A Deepness in the Sky Part 11

Unnerby lost track after a while. For one thing, Sherkaner was very curious about Unnerby's construction business. The fellow was a good listener, and his questions gave Unnerby ideas he might never have had otherwise. Some of those might actually make money. Lots of money. Hmm.

Smith noticed: "Hey, I need this sergeant to be poor and in need of a generous enlistment bonus. Don't lead him astray!"

"Sorry, dear." But Underhill did not seem apologetic. "It's been a long time, Hrunkner. I wish we'd seen more of you these last years. You remember back then, my big, ah-"

"Screwball idea of the moment?"

"Yes, exactly!"

"I remember just before we b.u.t.toned up in that Tiefer animal deepness, you were mumbling about this being the last Dark that civilization would ever sleep through. In the hospital afterwards, you were still going on about it. You should be a science-fiction writer, Sherkaner."

Underhill waved a hand airily, as if acknowledging a compliment. "Actually, it's been done in fiction. But truly, Hrunk, ours is the first era where we can make it happen."

Hrunkner shrugged. He had walked in the Great Dark; it still made him queasy. "I'm sure there will be lots more Deep Dark expeditions, larger and better equipped than ours. It's an exciting idea, and I'm sure the Gen-Major Smith also has all sorts of plans. I could even imagine significant battles in the middle of the Dark."

"This is a new age, Hrunk. Look at what science is doing all around us."

They rounded the last curve of dry roadway and plowed into a solid wall of hot rain, the storm they had seen from the north. Smith was not caught by surprise. They had their windows rolled almost all the way up, and the auto was doing only twenty miles per hour when they were enveloped. Still, the driving conditions were suddenly ghastly, the windows fogging almost too fast for the car's blowers, the rain so thick that even with the deep-red rain lights they could barely see the edge of the roadway. The rain that spattered past the c.h.i.n.ks in the windows was hot as a baby's spit. Behind them, two pairs of deep-reds loomed in the darkness, Smith's security people pulling closer.

It took a forcible effort to bring his attention back from the storm outside and remember what Underhill had been saying. "I know about the 'Age of Science,' Sherk. That's been my edge in the construction business. By the last Waning we had radio, aircraft, telephones, sound recording. Even during the build-back since the New Sun, that progress has continued. Your auto is an incredible improvement over that Relmeitch you had before the Dark-and that was an expensive vehicle for its time." And someday, Unnerby wanted to learn just how Sherkaner had obtained it on a grad student's stipend. "Without a doubt, this is the most exciting era I could ever hope to live in. Aircraft will soon break the sound barrier. The Crown is building a national highway system. You wouldn't be behind that, would you, Major?"

Victory smiled. "No need. There are plenty of people in Quartermaster who are. And the highway system would happen without any government help at all. But this way, we retain control."

"So. Big things are happening. In thirty years-by the next Dark-I wouldn't be surprised if there is worldwide air traffic, picturing telephones, maybe even rocket-borne relays that orbit the world the way the world orbits the sun. If we can avoid another war, I'm going to have the time of my life. But your idea that our entire civilization will sustain itself right through the Dark-pardon me, old Corporal, but I don't think you've worked out the numbers. To do that we'd essentially have to recreate the sun. Do you have any idea of the energy involved? I remember what it took to support our diggers after Dark during the War. We used more fuel in those operations than in all the rest of the War put together."

Ha! For once, Sherkaner Underhill didn't have a ready reply. Then he realized that Sherk was waiting for the General to speak. After a moment, Victory Smith raised a hand. "Until now everything has been very sociable, Sergeant. I know, you've learned some things that enemies might make use of-clearly you've guessed my present job."

"Yes. And congratulations, ma'am. Next to Strut Greenval, you're the best that ever had that job."

"Why. . .thank you, Hrunkner. But my point is that Sherkaner's idle talk has moved us to the heart of why I asked you to take a thirty-day recruitment. What you're going to hear now is explicitly Strategic Secret."

"Yes, ma'am." He hadn't expected the mission brief to sneak up on him like this. Outside, the storm roared louder. Smith was pushing along at barely twenty miles per hour even on the straightaway. During the early years of a New Sun, even overcast days were dangerously bright, but this storm was so deep that the sky had darkened down to a murky twilight. The wind picked at the auto, trying to pry it off the road. The inside of the cab was like a steam bath.

Smith waved for Sherkaner to continue. Underhill leaned back in his perch and raised his voice to be heard over the growing storm. "As it happens, I have 'worked out the numbers.' After the War, I peddled my ideas around a number of Victory's colleagues. That nearly ruined her promotion. Those cobbers can do the numbers almost as well as you. But things have changed."

"Correction," said Smith. "Things may may change." The wind slid them toward a drop-off that Unnerby could barely see. Smith downshifted, forced the auto back toward the middle of the road. change." The wind slid them toward a drop-off that Unnerby could barely see. Smith downshifted, forced the auto back toward the middle of the road.

"You see," continued Underhill, undistracted, "there really are power sources that could support civilization through the Dark. You said we'd have to create our own sun. That's close, even if no one knows how the sun works. But there's theoretical and practical evidence of the power of the atom."

A few minutes earlier, Unnerby would have laughed. Even now, he couldn't keep the scorn out of his voice. "Radioactivity? You're going to keep us warm with tons of refined radium?" Maybe the great secret was that the Crown's high command was reading Amazing Science. Amazing Science.

Such incredulity rolled off Underhill's back as smoothly as ever. "There are several possibilities. If they are pursued with imagination, I have no doubt that I will have the numbers on my side by the time of the next Waning."

And the General said, "Just so you understand, Sergeant. I do do have doubts. But this is something we can't afford to overlook. Even if the scheme doesn't work, the have doubts. But this is something we can't afford to overlook. Even if the scheme doesn't work, the failure failure could be a weapon a thousand times deadlier than anything in the Great War." could be a weapon a thousand times deadlier than anything in the Great War."

"Deadlier than poison gas in a deepness?" Suddenly the storm outside didn't seem as dark as what Victory Smith was saying.

He realized that for an instant all her attention was upon him. "Yes, Sergeant, worse than that. Our largest cities could be destroyed in a matter of hours."

Underhill almost bounced off his perch. "Worst case! Worst case! That's all you military types ever think about. Look, Unnerby. If we work at this over the next thirty years, we'll likely have power sources that can keep buried cities-not deepnesses, but waking cities-going right through the Dark. We can keep roadways clear of ice and airsnow-and by the middle years of the Dark, they'll stay that way. Surface transport could be much easier than it is during much of the Bright Times." He waved at the hissing rain beyond the sports car's windows.

"Yeah, and I suppose air transport will be likewise simplified," withall the air lying frozen on the ground. withall the air lying frozen on the ground. But Unnerby's sarcasm sounded faint even to himself. But Unnerby's sarcasm sounded faint even to himself. Yes, with a power source, maybe we could do it. Yes, with a power source, maybe we could do it.

Unnerby's change of heart must have shown; Underhill smiled. "You do see! Fifty years from now we'll look back at these times and wonder why it wasn't obvious. The Dark is actually a more benign phase than most any other time."

"Yeah." He shivered. Some would call it sacrilege, but-"Yeah, it would be something marvelous. You haven't convinced me it can be done."

"If it can be done at all, it will be very hard," said Smith. "We have about thirty years left before the next Dark. We've got some physicists who think that-in theory-atomic power can work. But G.o.d Below, it wasn't till 58//10 that they even knew about atoms! I've sold the High Command on this; considering the investment, I'll surely be out of a job if it fizzles. But you know-sorry, Sherkaner-I rather hope it doesn't work at all."

Funny that she would support the traditional view on this.

Sherkaner: "It will be like finding a new world!"

"No! It will be like recolonizing the present one. Sherk, let's consider the 'best case' scenario that you claim we narrow-minded military types always ignore. Let's say the scientists get things figured out. Say that in ten years, or by 60//20 at the outside, we start building atomic power plants for your hypothetical 'cities-in-the-Dark.' Even if the rest of the world hasn't discovered atomic power on its own, this sort of construction cannot be kept secret. So even if there is no other reason for war, there will be an arms race. And it will be a lot worse than anything in the Great War."

Unnerby: "Ugh. Yes. The first to colonize the Dark would own the world."

"Yes," said Smith. "I'm not sure I'd trust the Crown to respect property in a situation like that. But I know know the world would wake up enslaved or dead if some group like the Kindred conquered the Dark instead." the world would wake up enslaved or dead if some group like the Kindred conquered the Dark instead."

It was the sort of self-generated nightmare that had driven Unnerby out of the military. "I hope this doesn't sound disloyal, but have you considered killing this idea?" He waved ironically at Underhill. "You could think about other things, right?"

"You have have lost the military view, haven't you? But yes, I have considered suppressing this research. Just maybe-if dear Sherkaner keeps his mouth shut-that would be enough. If no one gets an early start on this business, there's no way anybody will be ready to take over the Dark this time around. And maybe we're generations away from putting this theory into practice-that's what some of the physicists think." lost the military view, haven't you? But yes, I have considered suppressing this research. Just maybe-if dear Sherkaner keeps his mouth shut-that would be enough. If no one gets an early start on this business, there's no way anybody will be ready to take over the Dark this time around. And maybe we're generations away from putting this theory into practice-that's what some of the physicists think."

"Well, I'll tell you," said Underhill, "this will be a matter of engineering soon enough. Even if we don't touch it, atomic power will be a big deal in fifteen or twenty years. Only it will be too late for power plants and sealed cities. It will be too late to conquer the Dark. All atomic power will be good for is weapons. You were talking about radium, Hrunkner. Just think what large amounts of such a substance could do as a war poison. And that's just the most obvious thing. Basically, whatever we do, civilization will be at risk. At least if we try for it all, there could be a wonderful payoff, civilization all through the Dark."

Smith waved unhappy agreement; Unnerby had the feeling that he was witnessing a much-repeated discussion. Victory Smith had bought into Underhill's scheme-and sold it to the High Command. The next thirty years were going to be even more exciting than Hrunkner Unnerby had thought.

They reached the mountain village very late in the day, the last three hours of the trip covering just twenty miles through the storm. The weather broke a couple of miles short of the little town.

Five years into the New Sun, Nigh't'Deepness was mostly rebuilt. The stone foundations had survived the initial flash and the high-speed floods. As after every Dark going back many generations, the villagers had used the armored sprouts of the forest's first growth to build the ground floors of their homes and businesses and elementary schools. Perhaps by the year 60//10 they would have better timber and would install a second floor and-at the church-perhaps a third. For now, all was low and green, the short conical logs giving the exterior walls a scaled apearance.

Underhill insisted they pa.s.s up the kerosene service station on the main road. "I know a better place," he said, and directed Smith to drive back along the old roadway.

They had rolled down the windows. The rain had stopped. A dry, almost cool wind swept over them. There was a break in the cloud cover and for a few minutes they could see sunlight on clouds. But the light was not the murky furnace of earlier in the day. The sun must be near setting. The tumbled clouds were bright with red and orange and alpha plaid-and beyond that the blue and ultra of clear sky. Brilliance splashed the street and buildings and foothills beyond. G.o.d the surrealist.

Sure enough, at the end of the gravel path was a low barn and a single kerosene pumping station. "This is the 'better place,' Sherk?" asked Unnerby.

"Well. . .more interesting anyway," The other opened the door and hopped off his perch. "Let's see if this cobber remembers me." He walked back and forth by the car, getting the kinks out. After the long drive, his tremor was more p.r.o.nounced than usual.

Smith and Unnerby got out, and after a moment the proprietor, a heavy-set fellow wearing a tool pannier, came out of the barn. He was followed by a pair of children.

"Fill it up, old cobber?" the fellow said.

Underhill grinned at him, not bothering to correct the misestimate of his age. "Sure thing." He followed the other over to the pump. The sky was even brighter now, blue and sunset reds shining down. "Remember me, do you? I used to come through in a big red Relmeitch, right before the Dark. You were a blacksmith then."

The other stopped, took a long stare at Underhill. "The Relmeitch I remember." His two five-year-olds danced behind him, watching the curious visitor.

"Funny how things change, isn't it?"

The properietor didn't know just what Underhill was talking about, but after a few moments the two were gossiping like old pals. Yes, the proprietor liked automobiles, clearly the wave of the future and no more blacksmithing for him. Sherkaner complimented him on some job he had done for him long ago, and said it was a shame that there was a kerosene filling station on the main road now. He bet it wasn't nearly as good at repair work as here, and had the former blacksmith considered how street advertising was being done up in Princeton these days? Smith's security pulled into the open s.p.a.ce beyond the road, and the proprietor scarcely noticed. Funny how Underhill could get along with almost anyone, tuning down his manias to whatever the traffic would bear.

Meantime, Smith was across the road, talking to the captain who was running her security detail. She came back after Sherk had paid for the kerosene. "d.a.m.n. Lands Command says there's a worse storm due in about midnight. First time I take my own car, and all h.e.l.l breaks loose." Smith sounded angry, which usually meant she was irritated with herself. They got aboard the auto. She poked at the ignition motor twice. Three times. The engine caught. "We'll bivouac here overnight." She sat for a moment, almost indecisive. Or maybe she was watching the sky to the south. "I know where there's some Crown land west of town."

Smith tooled down gravel roads, then muddy trails. Unnerby almost thought she was lost except she never hesitated or backtracked. Behind them came the security vehicles, about as inconspicuous as a parade of osprechs. The mud path petered out on a promontory overlooking the ocean. Steep slopes fell away on three sides. Someday, the forest would be tall here again, but now even the millions of armored sproutlings could not hide the naked rock of the drop-off.

Smith stopped at the dead end, and leaned back on her perch. "Sorry. I. . .made a wrong turn." She waved at the first of the security vehicles pulling up behind her.

Unnerby stared out at the ocean and the sky above. Sometimes wrong turnings were the best kind. "That's okay. G.o.d, what a view." The breaks in the clouds were like deep canyons. The light coming down them flared red and near-red, reflections of sunset. A billion rubies glinted in the water droplets on the foliage around them. He scrambled out the back of the auto, and walked a little way through the sprouts toward the end of the promontory. The forest mat squelched deep and wet beneath his feet. After a moment, Sherkaner followed him.

The breeze coming off the ocean was moist and cool. You didn't have to be the Met Department to know a storm was coming. He looked out over the water. They were standing less than three miles from the breakers, about as close as it was safe to be in this phase of the sun. From here you could see the turbulence and hear the grinding. Three icebergs were stranded, towering, in the surf. But there were hundreds more, stretching off to the horizon. It was the eternal battle, the fire from the New Sun against the ice of the good earth. Neither could finally win. It would be twenty years before the last of the shallows ice had surfaced and melted. By then, the sun would be waning. Even Sherkaner seemed subdued by the scene.

Victory Smith had left the auto, but instead of following them, she walked back, along the south edge of the promontory. The poor General.She can't decide if this trip is business or pleasure. The poor General.She can't decide if this trip is business or pleasure. Unnerby was just as happy they wouldn't get down to Lands Command in one whack. Unnerby was just as happy they wouldn't get down to Lands Command in one whack.

They walked back to Smith. On this side of the promontory, the ground dropped into a little valley. On the high ground beyond there was some kind of building, perhaps a small inn. Smith was standing where the bedrock edge of the drop-off was nicked, and the slope was not deadly steep. Once, the road might have continued down into the little valley and up the other side.

Sherkaner stopped by his wife's side and draped his left arms over her shoulders; after a moment she slipped two of her arms over his, never saying a word. Unnerby walked to the edge and dipped his head over the drop-off. There were traces of road cut, all the way to the bottom. But the storms and floods of the Early Bright had gouged new cliffs. The valley itself was charming, untouched and clean. "Heh, heh. No way we're going to drive down there, ma'am. The road is washed clean away."

Victory Smith was silent for a moment. "Yes. Washed clean. That's for the best. . . ."

Sherk said, "You know, we could probably walk across, and up the other side." He jabbed a hand at the inn on the hillcrest beyond the valley. "We could see if Lady Encl-"

Victory gave him a sharp, rippling hug. "No. That place couldn't put up more than the three of us, anyway. We'll camp with my security team."

After a moment, Sherk gave a little laugh. ". . .Fine by me. I'm curious to see a modern motorized bivouac." They followed Smith back to the trail. By the time they reached the vehicles, Sherkaner was in full form, some scheme for lightweight tents that could survive even the storms of the First Bright.

FIFTEEN.

Tomas Nau stood at his bedroom window, looking out. In fact, his rooms were fifty meters deep in Diamond One, but the view out his window was from the loftiest spire of Hammerfest. His estate had grown since the Relighting. Cut diamond slabs made adequate walls, and the surviving special craftsmen would spend their lives polishing and faceting, carving friezes as intricate as anything Nau had owned at home.

The grounds around Hammerfest had been planed smooth, tiled with metals from the ore dump on Diamond Two. He tried to keep the rockpile oriented so only Hammerfest's flag spire actually spiked into the sunlight. The last year or so, that caution wasn't really necessary, but staying in the shade meant that water ice could be used for shielding and some gluework. Arachna hung halfway up the sky, a brilliant blue-and-white disk almost half a degree across. Its light was bright and soft across the castle grounds. It was all quite a contrast to the first Msecs here, the h.e.l.l of the Relight. Nau had worked five years to create the present view, the peace, the beauty.

Five years. And how many years more would they be stuck here? Thirty to forty was the specialists' best estimate; however long it took the Spiders to create an industrial ecology. It was funny how things had worked out. This really was an Exile, though quite unlike what he had planned back on Balacrea. That original mission had been a different kind of calculated risk: a couple of centuries away from the increasingly deadly politics of the home regime, an opportunity to breed his resources away from poachers-and the outside, golden chance that they might learn the secrets of a star-faring nonhuman race. He hadn't counted on the Qeng Ho arriving first.

Qeng Ho knowledge was the core of Balacrea's Emergent civilization. Tomas Nau had studied the Qeng Ho all his life, yet till he met them he had not understood how weirdly different the Peddlers were. Their fleet had been softheaded and naive. Infecting them with timed-expression mindrot had been trivial, arranging the ambush almost as easy. But once under attack, the Peddlers had fought like devils, clever devils with a hundred surprises they must have prepared in advance. Their flagship had been destroyed in the first hundred seconds of the battle-yet that seemed only to make them more deadly killers. When finally the mindrot shut the Peddlers down, both sides were wrecked. And after the battle had come Nau's second great misestimate of the Peddlers. Mindrot could kill Qeng Ho, but many of them could not be scrubbed or Focused. The field interrogations had gone very badly, though in the end he had turned that debacle into the means of unifying the survivors.

So Hammerfest's attic and Focus clinic and splendid furnishings-those were cut from the ruined starships. Here and there within the ruins, high technology still functioned. All the rest must come from the raw materials of the rockpile-and the eventual civilization of the Spiders.

Thirty or forty years. They could make it. There should be enough coldsleep coffins to serve the survivors. The main thing now was to study the Spiders, learn their languages, their history and culture. To span the decades, the work was split into a tree of Watches, a few Msecs on duty, a year or two off and in coldsleep. Some, the translators and scientists, would be spending a lot of time on Watch. Others-the pilots and tactics people-would be mainly unused in the early years, then live full time toward the end of the mission. Nau had explained it all in meetings with his own people and the Qeng Ho. And what he had promised was mostly true. The Qeng Ho had great expertise in such operations; with luck, the average person would get through the Exile with only ten to twelve years of lifetime spent. Along the way, he would plunder the Peddlers' fleet library; he would learn everything the Qeng Ho had ever learned.

Nau rested his hand against the surface of the window. It was as warm as the carpet on the walls. Plague's name, this Qeng Ho wallpaper was good. Even looking off to the side, there was no distortion. He chuckled softly. In the end, running the Peddler side of the Exile might be the easiest thing. They They had some experience with the duty schedule that Nau proposed. had some experience with the duty schedule that Nau proposed.

But for himself. . .Nau allowed a moment of self-pity. Someone trustable and competent must stay on Watch till final recovery. There was only one such person, and his name was Tomas Nau. On his own, Ritser Brughel would foolishly kill resources that could not be spared-or do his best to kill Nau himself. On her own, Anne Reynolt could be trusted for years, but if something unexpected came up. . .Well, the Qeng Ho seemed thoroughly subdued, and after the interrogations, Nau was relatively sure that no big secrets remained. But if the Qeng Ho did again conspire, Anne Reynolt would be lost.

So Tomas Nau might be a hundred years old before he saw triumph here. That was middle-aged by Balacrean standards. Nau sighed. So be it. Qeng Ho medicine would more than make up for the time lost. And then- The room shivered, a nearly inaudible groaning sound. Where Nau's hand touched the wall, the vibration crept in along his bones. It was the third rock quake in the last 40Ksec.

On the far side of the room, the Peddler girl stirred in their bed. "Wha-?" Qiwi Lin Lisolet emerged from sleep, her motion lifting her out of the bed. She had been working for nearly three days straight, trying yet again to find a stable configuration for the rockpile. Lisolet's gaze wobbled about. She probably didn't even know what had wakened her. Her eyes fixed on Nau standing by the window, and a sympathetic smile spread across her face. "Oh, Tomas, you're losing more sleep worrying about us?"

She reached out her arms, a comforting. Nau smiled shyly and nodded. h.e.l.l, what she said was even approximately true. He floated across the room, stopped himself with one hand against the wall behind her head. She wrapped her arms around him and they floated, slowly sinking, toward the bed below. He slid his arms toward her waist, felt her strong legs bend around his. "You're doing everything you can, Tomas. Don't try to do more. Things will be all right." Her hands brushed gently against the hair at the back of his neck, and he felt the trembling in her. It was Qiwi Lisolet who worried, who would work herself to death if she thought it would add one percent to their overall chances of survival. They drifted silent for long seconds, till gravity drew them down to the froth of lace that was their bed.

Nau let his hands roam her flanks; he felt the worry slowly subside in her. Lots had gone wrong with this mission, but Qiwi Lin Lisolet could be counted as a small triumph. She had been fourteen-precocious, naive, willful-when Nau took down the Qeng Ho fleet. The girl was properly infected with mindrot. She could have been Focused; for a while he had considered making her his body toy. Thank the Plague I didn't. Thank the Plague I didn't.

During the first couple of years, the girl had spent much of her time in this room, crying. Diem's "murder" of her mother had made her the first wholehearted turncoat. Nau had spent Msecs comforting her. At first that had been simply an exercise in the persuasive arts, with the possible side effect that Qiwi might improve his credibility with the other Peddlers. But as time pa.s.sed, Nau came to see that the girl was more dangerous and more useful than he had guessed. Qiwi had lived much of her childhood on-Watch during the voyage from Triland. She had used the time with almost Focused intensity, learning construction engineering, life-support technology, and trading practices. It was weird; why was one child given such special treatment? Like so many of the Qeng Ho factions, the Lisolet Family had its own secrets, its own interior culture. During the interrogations, he had squeezed the probable explanation out of the girl's mother. The Lisolets used the time between the stars to mold those girl children who were intended for ruling positions in the Family. If things had gone according to Kira Pen Lisolet's plans, the girl would have been ready for further instruction here in-system, totally dominated by her loyalty toward her mother.

As things turned out, this made the girl ideal for Tomas Nau's purposes. She was young and talented, and desperately in need of someone in whom to invest her loyalty. He could run her Watch after Watch without coldsleep, just as he had to run himself. She would be a good companion for the time ahead-and one who was a constant test of his plans. Qiwi was smart and in many ways her personality was still very independent. Even now, with the evidence of what really happened to her mother and the others safely blown away, slipups could happen. Using Qiwi was a thrill ride, a constant test of his nerve. But at least he understood the danger now, and had taken precautions.

"Tomas-" She turned to face him directly. "Do you think I'll ever ever get the rockpile stabilized?" get the rockpile stabilized?"

Indeed, that was a proper thing for her to worry about. Ritser Brughel-or even a younger Tomas Nau-would not have realized that the correct response was not a threat or even disapproval. "Yes, you'll think of something. We'll think of something. Take a few days' vacation, okay? Old Trinli is off coldsleep this Watch. Let him balance the rockpile for a while."

Qiwi's laughter made her sound even younger than she looked. "Oh, yes. Pham Trinli!" He was the only one of Diem's conspirators she had more contempt than anger for. "Remember the last time he ran the balance? He talks loud, but he started out so timid. Before he knew it, the rockpile was three meters per second off L1 track. Then he overreacted and-" She started laughing again. The strangest things made this Peddler girl laugh. It was one of the puzzles about her that still intrigued him.

Lisolet was silent for a moment, and when she finally spoke, she surprised the Podmaster. "Yeah. . .maybe you're right. If it's just four days, I can set things up so even Trinli can't do too much damage. I do need to step back, think about things. Maybe we can water-weld the blocks after all.. . .Besides, Papa is awake on this Watch. I'd like to be with him a little more." She looked at him questioningly, implicitly asking for release from duty.

Hunh.Sometimes the manipulation didn't work out as expected. He'd have bet three zipheads she wouldn't take him up on the offer. I could stillturn her back. I could stillturn her back. He could agree with just enough reluctance to make her ashamed. No. It wasn't worth it, not this time. He could agree with just enough reluctance to make her ashamed. No. It wasn't worth it, not this time. And if one does not forbid,then be wholeheartedly generous in giving permission. And if one does not forbid,then be wholeheartedly generous in giving permission. He gathered her close. "Yes! Even you have to learn to relax." He gathered her close. "Yes! Even you have to learn to relax."

She sighed, smiled with a hint of mischievousness. "Oh, yes, but I've already learned that." She reached down, and neither of them spoke for some time. Qiwi Lisolet was still a clumsy teenager, but she was learning. And Tomas Nau had years to teach her. Kira Pen Lisolet had not had nearly so much time, and had been a resisting adult. Nau smiled, remembering. Oh yes. In different ways, both mother and daughter had served him well.

Ali Lin had not been born into the Lisolet Family. He had been Kira Pen Lisolet's external acquisition. Ali was one in a trillion, a genius when it came to parks and living things. And he was Qiwi's father. Both Kira and Qiwi had loved him very much, even if he could never be what Kira was and what Qiwi would one day be.

Ali Lin was important to the Emergents, probably as important as any of the Focused. He was one of the few who had a lab outside the attic warrens of Hammerfest. He was one of the few who did not have Anne Reynolt or one of the lesser managers constantly watching out for him.

Now he and Qiwi sat in the treetops of the Qeng Ho park, playing a slow, patient game with the bugs. She had been here 10Ksec, and Papa some time more. He had her doing DNA diffs on the new strains of garbage spiders he'd been breeding. Even now, he seemed to trust her with that work, only checking her results every Ksec or so. The rest of the time he was lost in his examination of the leaves and a sort of daydreaming contemplation of how he might do the projects that Anne Reynolt had set for him.

Qiwi looked down past her feet, at the floor of the park. The trees were flowering a mandors, bred for microgravity over thousands of years by people like Ali Lin. The leaves twisted down and down, bushing out so that their eyrie was almost invisible from the shadowed "below." Even without gravity, the blue sky and the turn of the branches gave a subtle orientation to the park. The largest real animals were the b.u.t.terflies and the bees. She could hear the bees, see an occasional erratic bullet of their flight. The b.u.t.terflies were everywhere. The micro-gee varieties oriented on the false sunlight, so their flight provided the visitor with one more psychological cue about up and down. Right now the park was empty of other humans, officially closed for maintenance. That was something of a fib, but Tomas Nau had not called her on it. In fact, the park had just become too popular. The Emergents loved it at least as much as the Qeng Ho. The place was so popular that Qiwi could detect the beginnings of system failure; the little garbage spiders weren't quite keeping up anymore.

She looked at her father's abstracted features and smiled. This really was maintenance time, of a sort. "Here's the latest set of diffs; is this what you're looking for, Papa?"

"Hmm?" The other didn't look up from his work. Then abruptly he seemed to hear. "Really? Let's see, Qiwi."

She slid the list across to him. "See? Here and here. This is the pattern match we were looking for. The imaginal disks will change just the way you wanted." Papa wanted a higher metabolism, without losing the population bounds. In this park, the insects did not have bacterial predators; the contest for life went on within their genomes.

Ali took the list from her hands. He smiled gently, almost looking at her, almost noticing her. "Good, you got the multiplier trick just right."