Kinder des Schicksals 4 (Xeelee 9): Resplendent

’crime’ of curiosity.
Perhaps he would have a word with Andres about it, get a new policy
formulated.
    They reached Diluc’s corridor-village.
    Before he could see his brother he had to be met by a series of
tribe worthies. Burly men and women in drab Ship’s-issue clothing,
they gathered with solemn expressions. Their greetings were lengthy
and complicated. The transients seemed to be evolving elaborate
rituals to be used on every social occasion: meeting, parting, taking
meals. Rusel could see the value of such rituals, which used up time,
and reduced social friction. But it was hard to keep up with the
ever-changing rules. The only constant was that these politeness
games always got more elaborate - and it was very easy to get
something wrong and give offence.
    The worthies looked concerned at the prospective loss of Diluc, as
well they might.
    Andres’s imposition of ’rule-by-consensus’ had been less than
effective. In some of the Ship’s dozen or so tribes, there was
endless jaw-jaw that paralysed decision-making. Elsewhere strong
individuals had begun to grasp power, more or less overtly. Andres
wasn’t too concerned as long as the job got done, the basic rules
obeyed: whoever was in command among the transients had to get the
approval of the Elders anyhow, and so Andres and her team were still
able to exert a moderating influence.
    The situation in Diluc’s tribe had been more subtle, though. As
the brother of an Elder Diluc had had a unique charisma, and he had
used that power to push his peers to conclusions they might not
otherwise have reached. He had been a leader, but of the best sort,
Rusel thought, leading from the back, invisibly. Now he was about to
be taken away, and his people knew they would miss him.
    With the worthies out of the way, the Elder was presented to
Diluc’s children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren. All of them
went through more elaborate transient-to-Elder rituals, even the
smallest children, with an unsmiling intensity Rusel found
disturbing.
    At last, with reluctance, he entered Diluc’s apartment. The rooms
were much as he remembered them, though the tapestries on the wall
had changed.
    Tila was still alive, though she was bent, her hair white, and her
face a crumpled mask. ’Thank you for coming,’ she whispered, and she
took Rusel’s hands in her own. ’There are so few of us left, you
know, so few not Shipborn. And he did keep asking for you.’
    Rusel pressed her hand, reserved, awkward. He felt out of practice
with people, with emotions; before this broken-hearted old woman he
felt utterly inadequate.
    Diluc himself lay on a bed, covered by a worn blanket. Rusel was
shocked by how his brother had imploded with age. And he could see,
even through the blanket, the swelling of the stomach tumour that was
killing him.
    He had thought Diluc was sleeping. But his brother opened one eye.
’Hello, Rusel,’ he said, his voice a croak. ’You bastard.’
    ’I’m sorry - ’
    ’You haven’t been here in fifty years.’
    ’Not that long.’
    ’Fifty years! Fifty years! It’s not as if - ’ He broke up in
coughing. ’As if it’s that big a Ship…’
    They talked, as they had talked before. Diluc told rambling
anecdotes about his grandchildren and great-grandchildren, all
properly genetically selected, all wonderful kids.
    Rusel had to tell him of a cull of the Elders.
    It had had a variety of causes, according to Doctor Selur, but
Andres had sniffed at that. ’I’ve seen it before. Call it a death
wish,’ she had said. ’You reach an age where your body knows it’s
time to die. You accept it. Maybe it’s some kind of neural
programming, a comfort as we face the inevitable.’ She cackled; she
was ageing too, and was now toothless. ’The Qax treatments don’t do
anything about it. And it carries away more would-be immortals than
you’d imagine. Strange, isn’t it? That longevity should turn out to
be a matter of the mind as much as the body.’
    Rusel had spent some years in faint trepidation, wondering if and
when his own dark-seeking mental programming might kick in. But it
never did, and he wondered if he had some unsuspected strength - or,
perhaps, a deficiency.
    Now Diluc grimaced. ’So even immortals die.’ He reached out his
hand. Rusel took it; the bones were frail, the flesh almost vanished.
’Look after them,’ Diluc said.
    ’Who?’
    ’Everybody. You know. And look after yourself.’ He looked up at
his brother, and Rusel saw