The Children of the Sky (82 page)

As she settled down in her old room by the command deck, she wondered again at her success in the meeting. Not since the Children were little—and rarely even then—had the kids deferred to her as they had this afternoon. Maybe they saw her as a competent hero who had been to hell and back. Ha. If they only knew how little of that was her doing. It still bothered her the way the kids winced when they looked at her crushed nose and cheek. But what if that wasn’t revulsion? What if the kids saw the injury as proof of tremendous sacrifice? Then sympathy and admiration all worked their magic in her favor. If it had been Nevil in her shoes, he’d squeeze that advantage as hard as he could, as long as he could. She thought about the notion for a moment, struggling to hold back sleep. Maybe she was a fool but, “Ship!”

“Yes, Ravna?”

“Please call Lisl Armin and tell her I’m a go for the face repair.”

And then she slept.

Scrupilo’s overflights didn’t support Giske’s worst-case theory. Ultimately, Nevil might be as crazy as Giske thought, but the Denier caravan was well equipped, and well prepared. Considering all the gear they had stolen, “well equipped” was no surprise. As for being well-prepared—Bili Yngva had something to do with that. The logs showed that Bili had spent a lot of time up here on the command deck, planning. He had recognized some of the gear in the Lander—what Ravna had mistaken for junk—and figured that it might still have limited functionality. That accounted for the strange thefts from the Newcastle catacombs. As for the fire they set in the Lander—Nevil and Bili really did believe in Countermeasure. The details were lost in a chaos of corrupted log files—what looked like a system failure, not encryption. Maybe she could unscramble the mess eventually, but for the moment she concentrated on trying to contact Tycoon and trying to break into the orbiter.

Meantime, Nevil was probing back at
Oobii
. The Chief Denier—that was her most polite term for him—had most of the commsets, and access to the orbiter. Ravna deliberately left the Denier user accounts in place, but in virtual cages. Nevil was all over them, probing for security holes, posting Nevilish propaganda. The incompetent hacking was very informative—to Ravna.

Woodcarver sent scouts with truce flags after the Deniers. They were peacefully received and allowed to talk to whomever they pleased. They even persuaded six from the caravan to return.

But when Ravna walked the streets of Newcastle town, the empty houses were everywhere, tears in the thin fabric of humanity. Denial had hijacked almost half of the human race, and there was yet a trickle of Children still departing, trying to catch up with the main group.

After five days, Nevil’s exodus reached its destination, a warm-springs cave system more than one hundred kilometers to the northeast. Woodcarver recognized the place. She told Ravna that she’d known about it for about a century and always believed it too dangerous for long-term settlement.

The place was beyond the range of Scrupilo’s little airboat. Three days passed, where the only word was Nevil’s voice reporting and happy messages from various of his followers. He was promising pictures any day now. When it came down through the orbiter, Ravna put the video in the Meeting Place.

Ravna and Woodcarver were present at the first showing, along with almost all the remaining Children and their Friends.

Nevil’s “Best Hope” settlement was near the edge of a hanging valley set in the wall of the Streamsdell river valley. It was in the Icefangs, just beyond Woodcarver’s territorial claims in that direction. Those highlands were not much favored by Tinish hunter-farmers, but Nevil was optimistic. In fact, the first video showed him near the middle of the Streamsdell Valley. “This land is ideal for humans, for independence and growth. Come see this in a year. There will be the green buds of our new hardicore grass, a chartreuse carpet stretching all the way to the edge of the Nordhus glacier.”

“Good luck, asshole!” someone in the audience shouted. “You guys never grew anything when you were
here
.”

The viewpoint bumpily slewed around, away from the glacier, past the river and then up the north valley wall. Some of the Tines were making wondering noises. Øvin said, “Hei, look! That must be why they picked this place!”

From the camera’s position, they could see something that was probably not visible to travelers taking the usual route along Streamsdell: a vertical slit in the dark rock of the side valley.

“That’s what, twenty meters tall?” someone said.

Nevil’s friendly voice rambled on behind their local commentary: “—apparently the Tines were never aware that the warm springs here supported a cave system. It is a truly human discovery.” He walked back into the field of view. “Fortunately, the team that found it were loyal to the best human values. Jefri Olsndot reported this directly to me.”

The hall erupted. “That son of a bitch!” “All that time he was the ‘great explorer,’ he was working for Nevil!”

Ravna had already checked: Jefri was not in the room.

On the display, Nevil had raised his hands, almost as if he knew the racket his announcement would cause. “I know, I know. It could not have been a purely human discovery. Jefri was accompanied by pack Amdiranifani. Friendship with the Tines will always be our policy. We seek friendship with Woodcarver. We have found friendship with Tycoon of the Tropics.”

There was angry laughter. “Hei, don’t forget your late good friend Vendacious!” and, “Ten days ago it was ‘Tycoon of the East Coast.’”

Nevil continued, “But my friends, a time has come for moral decisions. For too long, we’ve accepted the advice of misguided humans and Tines. Humans who truly want peace have a place with our settlement here at Best Hope. There is no need for the endless preparation for apocalypse that Ravna Bergsndot has forced upon you and the Tines of Woodcarver’s Domain. There was a time when we were too young and too desperate to know any better. Ravna and Woodcarver and Flenser saved the lives of all us young refugees who survived their initial massacre. We owe them so much. But at the same time, we owe our
parents
. They died at the High Lab in a noble effort, the highest striving that any humans have ever undertaken. We must not fall into the destructive hatred that Ravna preaches.”

“Same old, same old!” Giske said. “We have records.”

Ravna heard Øvin reply, “I’m sure Nevil will soon have his own records.”

“Besides, no one knows what really happened at the High Lab,” said someone else, that Ravna couldn’t see.

“We don’t even know what happened in near space, ten years ago!”

“Shut up!”

Nevil’s voice swept on, leaving a wake of tiny dissensions. “I hope that as more of you take honest inventory of the facts, you’ll see beyond the loyalties of the past, and that you and your friends—including any Tinish Best Friends!—will come to join us here at our redoubt of Straum. All who come with honest hearts will be welcome. But whether you agree with us or not—
please!
Whatever the disagreements, peace between our two human fragments is a desperate necessity. We may be all that is left of our race. In fact, after the galactic genocide of ten years ago, we may be all that is left from the High Beyond.”

Now Nevil was walking up the hillside, toward the entrance of his “redoubt.” His people were coming out, walking down to meet him, all smiles and laughter. Surrounded by familiar faces, Nevil turned and looked into the camera. “So even if we remain apart, even if we have profound disagreements … let us cooperate in surviving. You of the Domain have immense resources. You have
Oobii
and the treasures in Newcastle. These are the shared inheritance of our Beyonder origin. Let us cooperate in using them.”

That first video left the kids arguing throughout the afternoon. The second and third videos were so similar that by the time the fourth one came in, Ravna just watched the kids’ reaction from the bridge. There was no crowd in the Meeting Place; the message could be rewatched at any time. The live audience consisted mainly of sad Children hoping to see a few seconds of their lost loved ones.

But Nevil’s fourth message was different.

The video started with pictures of the Deniers’ new construction, inside the caves. They were building without the aid of
Oobii
technology, but now Ravna saw the use the Deniers had made of the gear stripped from the Straumer Lander. Indeed, it was not junk—she’d simply never figured out the user interface! Under sunny artificial lighting, the caves looked warm and dry. Three “participation homes”—that’s what Nevil called them—were already in place. Fresh timber was stacked everywhere, sawn and measured, ready for the construction of more housing. The timber and carpentering must be from Tycoon via Dekutomon. Somehow Nevil had patched things up with his remaining ally.

The few Children down in
Oobii
’s Meeting Place were using their new radios to tell others about the pictures. By the time a crowd started to form in the Meeting Place, Nevil had finished his show-and-tell of Best Hope marvels and was moving on to the platitudes. As usual he was surrounded by smiling faces. But now, Ravna wasn’t paying much attention; she could almost recite what the rest would be. Sure enough: “So even though we have profound disagreements … let us cooperate in surviving. You of the Domain have immense resources. We at Best Hope have the goodwill of Tines from the Tropics all the way to the Long Lakes and the East Coast. We have made peace with what was once a fearsome Enemy: Tycoon. By winning his trust and goodwill, we have secured the release of everyone he is holding. The release”—

Ravna’s eyes snapped up to the display. Downstairs, she heard gasps and then babble.

—“is without conditions. It’s happening because we showed Tycoon that—unlike Ravna and Woodcarver—we of Best Hope mean him no harm.” Nevil paused. Around him, his Deniers were cheering. Downstairs on the
Oobii
, the Children were cheering too, but more raggedly.

“We expect,” continued Nevil, “that most of the newly freed will prefer to stay here at Best Hope.” He paused, letting them all think on the consequences of
that
. “But we recognize that for the most extreme of Ravna’s acolytes, that would destroy whatever goodwill our effort should bring.” His expression darkened, one of the rare moments when the public Nevil looked angry. “Make no mistake. We won’t trade the freedom of any of these Children. We won’t force anyone to return to Ravna and Woodcarver and Flenser. But we welcome a peace party from the Domain. Any may come. Your party will have free access to all who are released. You can determine for yourself the desires of the freed Children and Tines.”

Ravna saw that Elspa Latterby had collapsed in tears. She wasn’t the only one weeping. Ravna ran out of the bridge, heading for the Meeting Place.

Everyone wanted to go to the Great Prisoner Release. Woodcarver exercised some of her old authority and asked Ravna to come up to the New Castle for a private chat. They met in Woodcarver’s throne room. Sht was big enough for its own little throne now. The other puppy nestled on the shoulders of another member.

“Nevil has stolen half the human race and almost all the equipment that wasn’t nailed down. I don’t want the rest of you in his claws.”

Ravna nodded; she had spent the afternoon talking to the kids, and worrying about the same thing. “But you’ll provide a military escort, right?”

“Of course! And unless Nevil has magic we don’t know about, my troops totally outgun him. But consider. We have only Nevil’s word of this agreement”—there was still no direct communication with Tycoon—“and if there
is
a deal between those two, we have no idea what it is. For all I know, Tycoon could field a force that would trump mine. There is
no
treachery that I put beyond these two.”

That was something the remaining Children agreed on, too. “Okay. I think I can persuade most of the Children to stay behind.” Ravna no longer looked like the victim of a sadistic mugging, but the kids were still amazingly solicitous of her. She had to be careful in making casual statements lest they take them as imperatives. “I am going, however.”

Woodcarver emitted a sigh. “That’s what I was afraid of, and I fear it undoes all our other caution.”

Ravna smiled. “I take it that you’re not going?”

“I’m not crazy.” Woodcarver’s tone was sour. “On top of everything else, there’s the possibility that all this is a feint, and Tycoon is set to attack us
here
.”

Ravna nodded. What Woodcarver said made sense, but—“You know, I think there’s still a chance for Pilgrim. From Wenda, I gather that Jo and Pilgrim crashed right in the middle of Tycoon’s operation. I know Tycoon wasn’t aware of that! It’s possible that Pilgrim is still in hiding down there. And Tycoon is not the monster Vendacious was. Even if Tycoon has captured Pilgrim, I think he’d be safe.”

Woodcarver sat back. All her eyes were on Ravna, except for the puppies, who were looking at each other. They did that just when the old Woodcarver would have said something really nasty. When she finally spoke, Woodcarver just sounded sad: “But Jo didn’t tell Wenda what had become of Pilgrim. And when we were all on stage, we learned nothing more; Tycoon was too busy ripping at her. Face it, Ravna. Both Jo and Pilgrim are dead.”

This was a dark outlook Woodcarver was not showing in public. Maybe the pessimism was entirely little Sht’s influence, or maybe it had more history. “You also grieve for Vendacious, don’t you, Woodcarver?”

Woodcarver’s heads came up abruptly. “Yes. I grieve for a monstrous pack, who after a century shared virtually none of my blood. Even my own advisors call my sympathy ‘the Queen’s madness.’”

“Not … madness.” But Ravna remembered her horror when Gannon was crushed; Woodcarver’s grief was a different thing. “You packs—you in particular—have done something most civilizations can’t do until they’ve externalized thought; you’ve taken biological selection by the throats and put it in service to ideas. Your offspring packs are your great experiments.”