---Semelparity---

---Emiko’s perspective---

I step off the mule onto the bank of the river in Khawekh.

Most of the other expeditionaries are here as well.

Lhamo and Jae are both taking it as an extremely positive sign that we’ve already been invited to attend a ceremony like this!

And I have to say I agree!

“Erm… just me or… anyone else gettin’ a bit of a… sombre vibe?” asks Victor, his eyebrow cocked in scrutiny “Kinda thought there’d be a bit more of a happy, ‘joy of life’, ‘welcome to the world buddies’ atmosphere at an event like this… These guys look like they’re goin’ to a funeral(!)”

I look at the Vrakhand I can see, climbing the central thoroughfare to the palace.

Victor is right that the mood is not quite what I had envisaged…

Heads hang low, feet tread slowly and, in contrast to the usual motley of vibrant colours they wear, right now they’re all dressed in the pale grey of undyed silks… not unreminiscent of Terran funerary white…

Jae interjects to say “We can’t know exactly what cultural connotations they attach to birth… certainly not without witnessing this ceremony… For now, lets just try not to make obnoxious tourists of ourselves! Perhaps we’ll understand later… Like… maybe the party starts as soon as the Broodqueen gives birth… and this dourness is a purposeful juxtaposition to it?”

“Maybe…” answers Victor, clearly unconvinced.

“Jae’s right.” I state with more confidence than I feel “When you enter a town, you follow the town… Everyone walk slowly enough to not overtake anyone and nobody laugh or joke unless and until you see them doing so…”

With that, the crowd of us begin making our way up the hill in a slow, solemn march.

---Khr’kowan’s perspective---

Mhakhrav’s agonised screams fill the air as she is tended to by my father and the older accoucheurs.

The boys in the orchestra play a mournful tune on their strings, in a vain attempt to beautify these very unbeautiful moments.

I inspect the ceremonial axeclub.

The densest feeling piece of ironwood I’ve ever held, it is polished to a mirror sheen and has the toothplates of three different women serving as its blades.

I bring the flesh of my palm to each, checking their sharpness.

Each blade passes the inspection.

I give a quiet exhale as I steel myself to play my role.

Out of my top six eyes, I see the crowd of Terrans enter with only a few nonTerrans among them.

The noseless man, it has been explained to me, underwent a painful trial which bestowed him with the power of a deathworlder… ‘not magic’ as they always insist!

The four armed woman is apparently of a kind adjacent to deathworlderhood and raised on a deathworld by deathworlders.

Other than those two, most gardenworlders are not yet cleared to visit our city for fear that they might suffer death or injury by someone who does not realise their relative weakness.

The entire crowd of outsiders are garbed in wildly inappropriate dress, though I can tell that these clothes are different from their normal attire.

I suppose, their ways are different from ours… and just having them here in the first place is already enough to make this a most unorthodox birthing ceremony!

At least their behaviour is respectful, even if their dress isn’t…

They stand quietly in the back, their heads turned low.

I do see one or two of them frowning quizzically at me… or, more specifically, at what I hold…

Perhaps they use a different weapon for their birthing ceremonies?

Some time passes as the hall sits in expectation, until…

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One of Mhakhrav’s brood takes a particularly painful bite of her insides and she screams in pain.

“I ca-a-an’t!” she sobs “It’s too much! End it! End it!! End it!!!”

Khvi’erth, the head accoucheur, stands and turns his head to me “The broodmother has asked three times, First Woman.”

“Then I must oblige her…” I answer, gravely.

The men part and allow me access to the woman.

She is lying on her back with her belly facing upward, her thorax and head bent at an awkward angle to let her see her brood as they make ripples in the soft armour of her underside.

With the wisdom of age, the men each take two of her legs and hold them down to prevent her from thrashing.

I move to her left, to put her between myself and the audience, and look down at her distressed face.

“Mhakhrav of the Lhor’nhakhan Realm, Daughter of Broodking Kh’rkten of the Lhor’nhakhan Realm and Lady Welhak of the Virhan Realm… do you feel you have honourably discharged your duties as a woman?”

“I…*hhh*… do!” she pants.

“Have you any regrets?” I ask.

“I…*hh-hhh*… do not!” she sobs

“Are you prepared to meet the Weaver and accept Her judgement?”

“I AAAAAaaaaam!” she screams.

“Then I ask that you lie back, raise your chin… and give your life to your children…”

The woman lays her torso back against the floor, her head tilting back over the stone lip at the edge of the dais, exposing the unarmoured flesh beneath her throat to me.

I bring the blades of the axeclub to the spot, making sure the swing will hit true.

“We honour your sacrifice.” I proclaim, as I raise the weapon over my head.

---Emiko’s perspective---

I inwardly pray a silent prayer of thanks to the seven Gods of Fortune that Samus excused herself from this event!

With her arachnophobia, there is no way we would have avoided a scene!

“So… seems like they’re semelparous…” observes Jae as we step back onto the shuttle, finally out of earshot of any Vrakhand and able to freely discuss what we just witnessed.

“Semelparous?!… Semelparous!?” demands the gigantic Brit, incredulously “You not think that ‘semelparity’ is a bit too dry and academic of a word to describe whatever the hell that was, Jae!? That was literally the grossest thing I’ve ever seen and it ain’t even close!… We’re lucky we got outta there with none of us havin’ vomited!”

“I nearly did…” volunteers Tuun, quietly.

“That was a seppuku-style, public, ritual execution with a bladed fuckin’ tewhatewha, followed by a chestbursting that’s gonna haunt my nightmares and capped off with them tearing that woman’s body apart!… Her babies ate her alive from the inside out and then her community fuckin’ butchered her!” he says, moderately frantically.

“Victor…” I soothe “…sit down and breathe…”

The man shuts his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath, then sits.

Taking charge, I speak “Yes… I’m sure what we just witnessed was extremely disturbing for all of us… Many questions that we didn’t know to ask have just been… quite graphically answered… Yes, it was unnerving, given that we were not expecting it, and probably would have only been mildly less so if we had known what we were going to witness!… However… no matter how distasteful we may find Vrakhandic birthing, we must continue to treat them with respect!… It doesn’t seem as if their semelparity is something they can help, nor is that something we should expect of them!… Our own history is fraught with examples of Human sacrifice… It’s not as if we can stand in judgement!… To me, that seemed much less like an execution and much more like euthanasia! An act performed to spare the mother needless suffering! An act of humane compassion!… I implore all of you not to think any less of the Vrakhand for what we saw tonight!”

Here, Lhamo steps forward and smiles “Well said, Emiko…” then turns to stand by my side, facing everyone else “…from what we just witnessed, I think it’s quite likely that the communities formed by the presentient ancestors of the Vrakhand raising the infants of their deceased, female kin, were very likely the first steps they took towards sentience, though I would like to discuss that possibility with Drs Lamark and Sknz’h, later on… Whatever the case, it is very clear that the rituals around birth are utterly central to the Vrakhandic social identity!… Some of you might be thinking that, with modern surgical and regenerative techniques, it should be possible for female Vrakhand to forego their semelparity and live into motherhood… This is a matter that has to be handled extremely delicately since, with the reverence they seem to have for the current arrangement, offering them an alternative may be seen as an insult! Additionally, we need to spare some thought to what the unintended consequences of upending the foundations of their entire culture like that might be!… We don’t want to be the well meaning missionaries cheerfully handing out Sheffield steel axes to the Yir Yoront, blind to the cultural collapse our actions are inducing!… With that in mind…” she turns to me “…Emiko, I would propose that we make the subject of Vrakhandic birth temporarily off limits to discuss with either Vrakhand or Twigg… Do you agree?”

I frown and nod, as the shuttle touches down outside the embassy habitat in Gob Hollow, and answer “Wholeheartedly, Lhamo…! We need to give some serious thought to how and whether to broach the subject with them before we do… So, yes…” I turn my attention back to the group at large and say “…until further notice, nobody is to bring up Vrakhandic birth in any capacity at all, if any Vrakhand bring up birth, procreation or any related topic with you, try to change the subject and direct them to ask Lhamo or myself if they won’t be deterred!… Dismissed.”

The thoroughly depressed looking crowd begin filing off the shuttle and heading inside.

Lhamo, her husband and I are the last ones on the craft when I realise something.

“Oh… Merciful Buddha!” I cringe.

“What is it?” chuckles Lhamo, frowning back at me.

“The other day… I just remembered… the General was feeling some melancholy about her people’s First Contact… I realise I said something stupid!” I answer.

“What did you say?” enquires Ambassador Ong.

“I… erm… I explained it with a Japanese idiom… ‘it’s easier to give birth than to worry about it’…” I groan.

“Ah…” chuckles Lhamo, sympathetically “…yes, that might not have been the most helpful comparison to make(!)”