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I'll see you to your quarters, and you had better get some rest before the luau starts."
"You're giving a party . .. for me?"
"Out on the Malolo." A brawny arm pointed through a gap between walls, over several kilometers of
blue waves dusted with " diamond by the sun, to the great ship that, Fenn knew, held lokepa's
anaina community of extended families. "First a talimalo, a proper reception for you." Seeing his friend
brace himself a little, the kanaka added: "I think you'll enjoy it. Nothing stuffy. You for sure ought to
enjoy the celebration afterward. We're not solemn po'e here, you know. It wouldn't be right without a
talimalo, though. You're important."
Fenn was unsure about that, but decided to wait and see what it meant.
Leaving the boy to go his way, the men boarded one of the shuttles that ran continuously between
here and Nauru, and were soon on the island. No matter how often he had seen it on multiceiver and
vivifer, Fenn found it astonishing. He was used to high-technology concentra-tions of humans. This was
an atoll, larger and more el-evated than most but still less than twenty kilometers in circumference. Yet
parks and gardens covered at least half of it, palms swaying and rustling, grass a velvet car-pet bordered
and crossed with scarlet,, violet, golden, dawn-pink, Mars-orange extravagances of flower beds, here a
fountain, there a plot where raked gravel and standing stones invited contemplation.
Although few buildings w'ere residential, none rose high and all were of traditional form, frequently in
nat-ural wood, with sweeping roofs, shady verandas up which grew bougainvillea or fuchsia, perhaps a
hand-carved tiki in front or a figurehead springing from the gable. Vehicles were minimal in size and
numbers. Peo-ple walked, leisurely, in loose and colorful clothes; they stopped to chat, they whiled away
an hour in an outdoor cafe; a group of young folk in a room whose door stood open sang to the strains of
guitar and flute; a man and a maiden skipped along hand in hand; in another room, an old woman sat
weaving cloth to a pattern she must have made up herself; several men passed by in plumed masks. ... It
did not look like the centrum of a polity that dom-inated half the Pacific and reckoned just its human
mem-bers at eight million.
Well, Fenn thought, of course there were many other islands, not to mention ships like lokepa's
hometown. Besides, given the right equipment and, what counted for far more, the right habits, you could
accomplish every-thing you wanted to without having to act stiffly efficient. The truly extraordinary feature
was how well-ordered the society appeared to be, how almost everybody seemed to belong.
No doubt the exceptions were plentiful. He had heard about stresses and unrest on the increase, here
as every-where else.
"Where are we bound?" he asked after a while.
"To the luakini, seeing that you've arrived ready for action," lokepa replied. "It comes out 'temple' in
Anglo, or else 'spiritual center,' but I don't think either's quite right. Manu wants to meet you first and
broach the matter to you himself, in a very preliminary way. He aims to get your input about it, and some
feel as to whether you'll be right for it. He'o and I recommended you to him."
"Whatever the 'matter' is." Fenn grinned against the tension inside.
"I told you you'll hear today. In principle, anyhow. Later you'll see the engineering studies and so
forth; we'll want your opinion as well as the experts'. If the proposal clears all this, we'll make it public. If
it draws enough interest, it'll be debated in the longhouses on every island and every shipland. If they like
it there, we can begin dickering with the Synesis and whoever else might be concerned. A long haul to
maybe nowhere. But I've got my hopes."
"Who's this, uh, Manu?"
Manu Kelani, the chief kahuna of Nauru. You start at the top, mate."
The top indeed, Fenn thought with a prickling up his backbone. High priest, grand advisor, primary
magistrate of an unwritten law stronger than any in the databases however you wanted to render the
title had the chief kahuna of the polity's capital ever before passed personal judgment on an obscure
young foreigner?
The luakini lay massively timbered behind a sculptured colonnade. An honor guard of men in sarongs
and rain-bow cloaks, armed with spear guns, stood in front, be-neath the star-and-wavecrest banner of
the Lahui Kuikawa. lokepa's usual offhandedness turned grave as he saluted and addressed their leader.
With equal dignity, he and Fenn were admitted. Four women in loose white gowns, flowers wreathing
their unbound hair, conducted the two down a dim, cool hall and left them to wait in a room clearly meant
for private talk. Windows, open to the sea breeze, were high in the walls, each of which bore a fixed
mural the genesis of the Keiki Moana, their ancestral refuge with a few human caretakers in Hawaii,
Kelekolio Pela setting forth the Dao Kai, the cession of Nauru to descendants who had become a nation.
A table with a terminal and a few chairs were the only furniture on the hardwood floor.
Manu Kelani entered through a rear door. He was tall, his hair bushy-white, his features more
Melanesian than. Polynesian but the eyes incongruously emerald. A golden cross hung on his breast
above a blue robe and he carried a staff topped with a miniature anchor of an ancient type, lokepa went
to one knee. Manu laid a hand on his head. Words passed between them. Fenn could only, awk-wardly,
salute.
lokepa rose. Manu turned to the newcomer. Be wel-come," he said in fluent Anglo. "I have heard
much about you."
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