*I*N*F*E*C*T*I*O*N*
The council chambers were in another seashell-based building, much larger than Volos-Cetra's house, with deep and wide underground rooms. Like so many architectural features, it was bright white. A number of rounded shelves and water ponds decorated it.
The Council of Elders was composed of fifty Cetra representing all the clans that had arrived at the north continent, all highly sensitive and well-practiced at various means of communicating with the Planet. The term "Elder" appeared to be figurative—the Elders were all older than Napir- and Volos-Cetra, but seemed to vary greatly by age and physical appearance. They were dressed in more elaborate clothing than Volos-Cetra's parents had worn—ceremonial? Formal?—though the flowing, colorful garments looked comfortable and easy to move in. The council members sat waiting at a huge, semi-circular table. Napir-Cetra's mother—Councilor Mlande-Mother-Cetra—was a member and sat halfway down from the leader at the center. She nodded, smiling, to Napir as he and Volos entered and stood before the flat edge of the table.
Volos and Napir gave the Cetra council a flat, incomplete report about what had been found at the crater site. They described the devastation from the meteorite impact, how the Lifestream was hemorrhaging into the crater, how life there had been almost entirely destroyed, how new life was gradually coming back into the area. They talked of how the crater was growing colder. All information obtained from the real Volos- and Napir-Cetra's memories, or discussed by Ratih-Cetra earlier.
Naturally, they did not mention the True Life that had arrived with the meteorite.
"This corresponds with what we have gleaned in our communications with the Planet," said the leader of the council, an elderly woman—High Councilor Iounn-Cetra. "It screams of something that fell from the sky, something that created a great injury. It acted to prevent the global environmental disaster that would have surely followed had nothing been done. It continues to do so, in fact."
Hierarchy, the One Self gleaned from its stolen memories. Council members were designated as Councilor, with lesser honorifics for lesser roles. The Council leader's title was prefixed with High. Wasteful foolishness. A distributed consciousness had no need for titles or hierarchy. Volos and Napir were part of the One Self, extensions of one being, isolated but always connected via aetheric communion. Though separate, they acted as appendages of the One Self's mind and body, as useful remote limbs. It had speculated earlier that all Cetra were also part of a similar unity with the Lifestream, but now decided that identity and independence on this world were stronger concepts than expected.
"You have no better specifics about the injury than that?" Napir queried.
"We were hoping you could tell us, my son," Councilor Mlande-Mother-Cetra—Mom—Informal for Mother—said, gazing at him over steepled fingers. "You were sent because you have inherited the family sensitivity to the Planet. Did you learn nothing from communion with it so close to the actual damage?"
"Only that it is in great pain," Napir said smoothly. There were no memories for the One Self to draw upon. Napir-Cetra had never initiated any deep communications with the Lifestream after it had arrived in the crater. Perhaps the One Self had acted too hastily, and should have allowed the two Cetra more time before it had consumed and absorbed them. Napir added, "It is screaming so much that I couldn't discern anything more with clarity."
That much was true. Memories did show that Napir-Cetra had known of the Planet's pain, even if he hadn't directly communed with it. The Cetra council would accept that testimony.
"So we know little more than we did from our earlier Planet Readings," a male councilor—Umay-Cetra—said with a sigh. "A wasted venture, after all."
"It's just as well we've already started making plans for healing and cultivation," said another woman. "We can continue to direct the Lifestream so that cultivation of the land around the injury can occur, at least. More plant and animal life will help with healing."
"It might be best not to waste too much effort. The Planet has invoked Shiva's power to seal the injury with ice. There'll eventually be a great glacier there to stop the hemorrhaging of the Planet's lifeblood."
"That may take years. We should continue, anyway, just to keep things from getting worse until the Planet can seal off the bleeding."
"It will take centuries to heal such an immense wound, even with so much of the Planet's energy being directed to that area," said High Councilor Iounn-Cetra.
"That is just as well," Mlande-Mother-Cetra stated. "The impressions we received from the Planet indicate that there are still large amounts of debris and toxins in the air over the crater. The Lifestream captured most of it and carried it back into the depths of the earth, but a full cleansing will take a long time."
"How many Cetra have arrived for cultivation?" Napir asked. Volos remained quiet. Napir was best suited for these kinds of questions, as he came from a council member's family and was considered sensitive to the Planet. He would draw the least suspicion for asking about the movements of the Cetra with regards to the crater.
"Several thousand," Napir-Cetra's mother replied. "Most are already preparing to head to the crater site to work on it directly. You arrived just in time."
The council bickered among themselves, seemingly having forgotten about Napir and Volos, though they were standing right in front of the table. Both avatar-scouts remained quiet, gathering information from the noisy discussion. There wasn't much extra to learn, and after the councilors ran out of things to argue about, High Councilor Iounn-Cetra dismissed them all.
"We will adjourn until after the next Planet Reading," she said, and that seemed to be the end of the meeting.
As the council members filed out of the room, Mlande-Mother-Cetra herded Napir and Volos before her, saying, "That went well, even if it did seem somewhat incomplete. I'm disappointed you weren't able to commune any better than that with the Planet, Napir."
"I told you, the Planet was screaming. It was incoherent and I couldn't get any solid details," Napir said, putting a little of Napir-Cetra's aggravation into his voice. The One Self knew the original Napir-Cetra sometimes got frustrated with his mother.
She sighed. "I know, child. I thought you were better trained than that. We'll have to work on it some more."
"You should have gone yourself if it was so important to you," Napir said in a perfect imitation of sulkiness.
"Silly. You know I can't leave the council." She smiled, reached out and fondly touched his face, and that was her mistake and Napir's chance. Microtubules instantly formed and connected to her palm, and more of the non-metabolizing, non-alive replication machines loaded with genetic material and quintessence flowed through them into her body. This time not so many tubules were connected, so the payload was smaller, but it didn't matter. Directed by quintessence and specialized enzymes, the machines would infect her cells, replicate themselves, and ultimately integrate their genetic material into hers. "You're just tired and probably stressed from reporting to the council. You'll feel better after dinner and a good night's sleep."
"Yes, Mom," Napir answered, just like a dutiful son.
She pulled her hand away, then frowned and looked at it. "That's odd," she murmured, and rubbed her palm with her other hand. "My hand is so itchy."
That had been the minimum number of connections the One Self needed to use for an adequate genetic payload, and still it had been detected. However, it seemed that it wasn't as noticeable as before, since Mlande-Mother-Cetra just wiped her hand on her gown and appeared to forget the matter.
"You go home, Volos," she said to the other avatar-scout. "I'm sure your parents are waiting to hear all about the meeting."
"Yes, ma'am," Volos agreed. He turned and walked off. The One Self was pleased. Napir might be tied to his family-group for the rest of the day and night—the better to infect them, even if it did restrict the avatar-scout's movements—but Volos was free to feed, and to spread: to walk around the Cetra capital, bumping into and touching every Cetra he encountered. It should be an advantageous exercise.