The Children of the Sky

“Your mother was the chief administrator at the High Lab, wasn’t she?”

“Actually, it was my dad. Mom was the vice chief, or chief of vice when she was feeling mischievous.”

Ravna had her low opinion of the Straumers’ High Lab. At best it was good intentions gone cosmically wrong. But the Lab had been the pinnacle of the Straumer civilization. It had been mind-boggling hubris, but it had also enlisted the best and the brightest of their entire civilization. Very likely there had been other heroes besides the parents of Johanna and Jefri. “Your Dad must have been a management superstar.” A more talented leader than anyone on this poor world.

Nevil gave an embarrassed laugh. “If you go by the selection process, he was. I remember how it dragged on through most of my grade school years, all the hoops my folks had to jump through. But Dad said it didn’t matter, that there were so many geniuses at the Lab that ‘administration’ was more like herding cats.… You know? You had cats at Sjandra Kei, didn’t you?”

Ravna smiled in the darkness. “Oh, yes. Cats go back a lot farther than Sjandra Kei.”

Nevil Storherte might have only childhood recollections to go by, but he’d grown up among real leaders. And obviously, he had the magic touch himself. And stupid me, all self-pitying, ignoring resources that were here all the time. She took a deep breath and launched into something more than the shallow confidences of a minute before: “You know, Nevil, the most important thing in the world—maybe in this part of the Galaxy—is our raising a civilization here in time to face the Blighter fleet.”

“I agree.”

“But the DSG thing has made me realize how much our long-term goal distracted me from what’s happening in the here and now. I fear I’ve screwed up so badly that we may lose the main game before it ever begins.”

Silence, but then in a moment of pale light she saw that it was a thoughtful, attentive silence, and she continued: “Nevil, I’m trying to correct my mistakes, but what I’ve tried so far has had unhappy side-effects.”

“Woodcarver’s reaction to the New Meeting Place?”

“That’s just one.”

“Maybe I can help on that. I don’t have a private channel to Woodcarver, but Johanna certainly does. And I’ll bet my friends can think of changes to the New Meeting Place that will convince Woodcarver that it honors the whole of the Domain.”

“Yes! That would be great.” Thank you. “Let me fly the other changes by you. Most are a lot scarier to me than the New Meeting Place seemed.” Maybe you can show me which is dead wrong and which can somehow be made to work. One by one she described her ideas for reforms, and for every one Nevil’s reaction was like warm sunlight, sometimes agreeing, sometimes not, but always illuminating.

About instituting formal democracy: Nevil was in favor. “Yes, that’s something we must do, and fairly soon now that so many of us are adults. But I think it’s something that has to grow up naturally, not imposed from above.”

“But the only traditions the Children—I mean you all—have experienced are embedded in heavy automation and large marketplaces. How can the idea come from within?”

Nevil chuckled. “Yeah, lots of nonsense can emerge too. But … I trust my classmates. They have good hearts. I’ll talk this around. Maybe we can use the New Meeting Place to model how things were handled in the most successful of the Slow Zone democracies. And figure out how to do it without offending Woodcarver!”

About Ravna moving out of Oobii: Surprisingly, Nevil was almost as uneasy about this suggestion as she was. “We need you aboard Oobii, Ravna. Anybody who thinks about the question knows that you’re the only person who knows how to use the planning tools there. If we’re going to raise civilization before we die of old age, we need you there.” He was silent for a moment. “On the other hand, you’re right in fearing that this angers people who don’t think things through—and it’s an irritant for everyone sitting out in the cold. We Children were born into a comfortable civilization. Now that’s been lost—except where we see it sitting, gleaming green on Starship Hill. So maybe it makes sense for you to move out for a while. But choose the time, some turning point where it gains the greatest good will. If you stay out, our highest priority will have to be getting you proper communications back with Oobii.”

“Okay. So we should begin planning for just when to make the move. Can you—”

“Yes. I’ll check around, but very quietly. I suggest you don’t discuss this with others. I’ll bet that it’s the sort of thing that once suggested becomes a popular imperative.”

And then there was the hardest, scariest item: the priority for medical research. And here, Nevil’s reaction was the most surprising and comforting of all. “You mean shift resources from the general technology program, Ravna? In the long run, wouldn’t that slow everything, including bioscience?”

Ravna nodded. “Y-yes. Basically, we need to build our own computers for process control and create the networks between them. Then all the rest of technology will take off; prolongevity will be easy. But in the meantime, you kids will age. Pre-technological ageing is just dying, withering, year by year. I can already see it in some of the oldest Children. I look younger than some of them. It’s a little like the problem of my living the good life in Oobii—but it looks much uglier.”

“I—” Nevil seemed to be struggling with himself. “Yeah, you’re right. I’ve been doing okay, but then I probably have a naturally healthy body type. I think this is a very serious future problem. The good news is that among the kids I know well—which is most everybody—this is not currently a major source of complaint.”

“Really? I had been so afraid—” I’ve been seeing monsters everywhere since the DSG raised its ugly head.

“I suggest you continue with your best long-term research plan. But think about having a general meeting soon, where you explain the changes and your development schedule.”

“Okay.” Ravna nodded. “Right. Right.” These were her reforms, but with a big dose of constructive common sense. “We could do it in the New Meeting Place after you get it properly rebuilt.”

“Yes. I should have something by early winter. Whenever after that you feel—”

“Good,” she said. “The sooner the better.” This was progress on almost all fronts. Somehow that brought her back to the debacle that had made this night so desolate. She hesitated for just a second. Her special surveillance of Flenser had always been the secret beyond telling. Now? Now she finally had someone to share it with.

“There’s one other thing, Nevil.” She explained about Flenser and her spy infestation.

He gave a low whistle. “I had no idea that Beyonder surveillance tech could work here.”

“Well, it turns out that in the long run it was a disaster,” she said, and then described the latest session, under Flenser’s castle. She heard her voice rising. This part felt as bad as ever. “And confessing to Woodcarver on top of everything else—I just can’t do it!”

The breeze had risen ever so slightly, and the glowbugs had fallen out of synch. Now they were only isolated spots of light. There was the occasional tap of raindrops on her hood, the beginnings of the shower Oobii had predicted.

Nevil was quiet for a long moment. Finally he said. “Yeah, that’s a problem. But the surveillance itself—I think that was the right thing. Johanna has always been very suspicious of that pack. And from what you said, you got years of valid intel.”

“Some unknown number of years.”

“True. But my Dad used say that there’s no way to be a successful leader without taking considered risks. And that means occasionally doing things that fail miserably. The point is to make what you can of the successes— then revisit the failures. When Woodcarver is happy about things, then come back to her with this.”

Ravna looked up into darkness, got a couple big raindrops in the face for her trouble. She licked at the cold water and suddenly was laughing. “Meantime, the weather is telling us to adjourn this summit meeting.”

She reached out to pat Nevil’s shoulder, and his hand found hers. Surely both hands were chilled, but his was the warmer. It felt so comforting. “Thank you, Nevil,” she said softly.

He held her hand for a second more. “It’s just the support you deserve. We all need you.” Then he withdrew his hand with an embarrassed laugh. “And you’re right about the weather!” He stood and slid down from his perch on the rock, then shined a dim light on the rock to help her down. Thankfully, he did not give her a hand with the descent.