Date Point 13y11m2w1d AV
Arés residence, Folctha, Cimbrean, The Far Reaches
Adam Arés
Some days just got off to a good start. Some followed a whole good trajectory. It was nice to be spoiled for choice on things to be happy about.
Waking up snuggled up next to Marty was a good start. Then there had been what they’d done when she woke up. And she’d cooked breakfast for a change.
Then had come a positive moment that might have surprised the people who knew him well but not perfectly. He’d done his morning routine and graphed his bodyweight like he did every morning. He swiped backward over the last two weeks and found his weight was almost flat. Finally. He’d honestly started to worry that he might keep growing forever.
It wasn’t for lack of trying; he was lifting as hard as ever and eating as big as he possibly could, but at long last, after years and years of pushing himself as far as maybe no other human could go, he’d finally reached the practical mechanical limits of effective heavy training and it was a genuine relief. Bigger weights and deeper gravity would be too unwieldy and more or less mechanically unworkable for a man-sized lifter; he was already doing silly things like shoulder-pressing cars and tossing yard-wide Atlas stones around like medicine balls, and even doing that in supergravity had become almost depressingly easy for him.
Where could he go from there? Strength didn’t work like in the comic books; a man needed weight of his own to counteract the forces at play except sometimes in isolated movements, which was a thing that never happened to any practical strength athlete in the real world. Adam was already so stupidly massive and strong that nobody came even remotely close, and his gym toys were so heavy that he could barely keep them under controlled motion as it was, even though he knew he could easily move heavier weight. His strength had nothing to do with it, his weight was the limit. If he wanted to lift bigger he’d need to be bigger, and to do that he’d need to eat bigger—which he couldn’t—and train with less intensity, which meant he couldn’t actually do anything useful with all those extra calories.
Nope. The more he thought about it, the more he realized he’d hit his Wall. Besides…breaking chairs, overloading the pallet scale, stepping through floors and now smashing trucks was getting pretty annoying. If he put on much more mass he’d be too damn big to go anywhere. He still had years of functional strength building and general improvement ahead of him, and he had no doubt his buddies would help him find new ways to challenge his body…but honestly?
For the first time, Adam knew he was finally strong enough to do the Mission. That felt good.
It also meant something else. Almost all of his free time so far had been devoted to training of one form or another…which was an enjoyable burden, sure, but it had put considerable limits on his other pursuits. Not anymore. If the trend held up…The prospect of actual free time beckoned. Hours of it in a day, potentially. And maybe his big buddies could finally catch up with him, too!
Well…mostly. He’d be damned if he ever let them pass him by.
Four good reasons for a good mood right there. Then there was “second” breakfast at Dad and Jess’ place, which was always a highlight of the week.
It wasn’t usually a chance to meet new people, though. Today was an exception—Ava had more company than just Hannah today. She’d brought along her long-overdue new boyfriend.
“You must be Tech Sergeant Arés.”
“Yup!”
Eduardo was definitely a pretty one, Dad hadn’t lied. Groomed and composed with longish hair swept neatly behind his ears and a dusting of cultivated stubble. And he had a damn good handshake, too. He barely even winced.
Adam smiled as they shook hands. “You can call me Adam, though.”
“And I’m Eduardo. Eduardo Luis Santos Lorca, a sus ordenes.”
”Mucho gusto.”
< p>“Igualmente.”
He was polite and debonair, Adam gave him that. And he didn’t detect any hint of falsehood under the manners. Nerves, maybe, but that was normal: everybody got nerves when Adam met them for the first time.
But still. The pretty boy was dating his girlfriend…Ex-girlfriend. Adopted sister. Whatever. Good looks and good manners were a good start but Ava had earned some happiness in her life and Adam was damn well going to look out for her.
He got a knowing elbow in the ribs from Marty the moment Eduardo had excused himself to wash his hands.
“Ava has good taste in boys,” she teased. “…Where is she, anyway?”
Jess called from the kitchen over the sound of sizzling bacon. “She’s out on the terrace!”
That wasn’t the half of it. Adam was only halfway to the door when he heard a very familiar sound indeed: a great thumping bass punch of a bark. He opened the terrace doors just in time to see Ava leaning over the rail, talking to somebody on the street below.
“Wurf!”
“No, you can’t come up. You’ve done enough already!”
“Wurf!!”
“Don’t play innocent, you know what you did!”
Sure enough, Bozo was pacing in the yard below, whining pathetically. He parked his butt in the dirt and barked excitedly the second he saw Adam.
“Wurf!!!”
“What did he do?”
Ava sighed and shook her head. “Buenos días, Gordo. And what he did was…” she gestured to Hannah, who was lolling on a cushion enjoying the early morning sun.
It took Adam a few seconds to catch her meaning.
“…No. Really?”
“Yup. Vet confirmed it last night. She’s got pups.”
“Well, let him up! He prol’ly wants to cuddle!”
Ava sighed and stared down at the enormous mutt below for a few seconds.
“…Well, I guess you can’t get her pregnant twice at once, can you?” she asked.
Bozo’s tail thumped on the concrete, and he barked a quiet “Wuff!” while shuffling his paws expectantly.
“…Fine. I’ll let him up.” She turned away from the railing, gave Adam a sisterly kiss on the cheek and headed inside. “There’s something too clever about that dog…”
She shared a hug with Marty on her way past, who was beaming ear-to-ear.
“Did I hear right? Puppies?”
“…You want one.”
“You’re damn fucking right I want one!” Marty practically skipped over to Hannah’s cushion and squatted down next to it. “Oh my god, they’ll be adorable.”
“Hmm. And super trainable, I bet…”
“Could be a whole new breed…” Marty daydreamed. There was a scrabble from the stairs and Bozo barged through the apartment’s open-plan dining area and out onto the terrace, where he promptly doted on Hannah, lavishing her with licks and the precious gift of a tennis ball.
All good news as far as Adam was concerned. Hannah had picked herself a good boyfriend, and if Adam were forced to admit it…Ava could have done a lot worse. Eduardo seemed friendly enough but breakfast with him did nothing much to influence Adam’s opinion of him either way. He’d obviously been gently muscling his way to the front of the good-looks line when the brains were being handed out too…but honestly, Adam probably wasn’t the best man to cast shade in that department.
At least he wasn’t smug or anything. It’d be nice not wanting to rip her boyfriend’s arms off for a change.
Or…whatever Sean had been.
He put the thought aside and focused on just enjoying time with his family.
Watching his dad was a unique joy. Gabriel’s rejuvenated leg was better than it had ever been now, and he seemed to spring from his chair at the slightest excuse to go fetch something or show something off. Hard to believe he’d spent nearly ten years hobbling around on a cane on his good days, and reluctantly wheelchair-bound on the bad ones. Jess seemed to find it a little overwhelming—she’d never known him before his disability, never known the busy active cop who’d bustled around the house whenever Adam had been able to visit. She didn’t seem unhappy, far from it…just like she hadn’t quite managed to adjust yet, even after several months.
In retrospect, it was easy for Adam to see where he got his own bouncy energy from. He couldn’t be gladder, even though Gabriel’s renewed energy had slightly increased the frequency with which he dropped hints about grandchildren.
They were up to twice a week now. A new record. Sometimes through text message, too.
All in all, it was an excellent way to spend a morning. As always, Jess was adamant that she would handle the washing up herself thank you very much and that Adam trying to help would just about squeeze her out of the kitchen, so Ava and Eduardo escaped in the direction of New Belfast, ostensibly to do a photoshoot, and took Hannah and Bozo with them while Adam and Marty headed back along South Bank Drive in the general direction of their apartment in comfortable gastronomic silence.
There were more trucks on the road today, heading east along the coast. There had been something on the news about New Belfast being the springboard for colonization efforts onto other, untouched Cimbrean landmasses, and the bay out there was supposed to be perfect for a port.
There were more than a few people along the sidewalk he didn’t recognize, too. Which, new neighbors! But at the same time, it meant he didn’t feel entirely comfortable pulling off his nice shirt and folding it up as was his usual habit. Folctha always got steamy around about noon in the summer as the moisture from the overnight rains cooked back into the air, so for Adam the only way to stay comfortable most of the time was to wear as little as he could get away with.
His clothes didn’t tend to last long anyway. But on the other hand, maybe now this shirt would last him more than a month. If so, he’d better get used to being a bit more civilized.
Marty didn’t seem to notice his plight, being lost in a happy place of her own and humming a jaunty tune by his side. She beamed at him when he glanced at her.
“So. Think you’ll ever like Eduardo?” she teased.
Adam shrugged noncommittally. “Eh, he’s…kinda dense.”
“Kinda callin’ the kettle black, meatslab,” She grinned and prodded him affectionately in the arm.
“No no…I mean, like…dense. He’s just kinda…too happy? I dunno.”
“He doesn’t think for a living.”
“Neither do I! That don’t mean I’ll just stare at a wall and pant like a labrador!”
“Bullshit. You think all the time. Training schedules, nutrition, weight, dosage…you use your brain way more than you think you do.”
“That’s just being functional. I dunno. He’s…nice, I guess. But I kinda doubt he reads the newsblog editorials, y’know?”
“I notice you didn’t actually answer my question,” she teased.
“Nuh.” He grinned his favorite smug grin. “Old boyfriend privilege. I don’t gotta like ‘em.”
Marty snorted. “Caveman,” she said fondly, then did a double-take when he paused at the pedestrian crossing to head toward the center of town with her rather than back toward the gym. “…Don’t you have a workout?”
“Nuh-uh! I can scale back now!”
“You finally notice that you stopped getting bigger, huh?”
“Wh—yes? How did you know? I literally figured that out this morning!”
Marty gave him a patient, impatient look–a slight challenging frown, with her head on one side. “I’m kinda intimately familiar with how much you weigh, Chunk.”
“Hey,” he grinned, “I said I was sorry about that! I’ll be more careful next time.”
“I’m talking about how the app logs your weight for suit maintenance purposes as well as your gains, ‘bruh’,” she reminded him. “It’s been pretty much flat for two weeks now.”
“…Still coulda been a fluke.”
“You’re just mad I stole your thunder,” she said lightly.
“Well, fine. I gotta do a calorie cut and a light interval to see if I hold my weight, but…I dunno. I can sorta feel it, y’know? I know I’m finally there.”
Marty laughed. “I defer to your greater experience of being the biggest ever,” she drawled.
“Well,” he said drily, “My slab wisdom is vast…But! Know what it means?!”
“Yup. Means we’re buying you your wedding clothes now that they’ll actually fit you and stay fit.”
“…Uh, I was actually excited about the free time…”
“Yeah-huh. And you’re gonna spend some of that spare time helping me with this wedding.”
Adam blanched. “I thought we were gonna have something, uh…”
“Fun?”
“Simple. Not a huge deal…It’s not like I have many friends…”
“Sure. That’s what I was going for,” she agreed. “But you don’t just wave a magic wand like ‘Shazam!’ and suddenly a wedding happens, even a really small and simple one.”
“…Wedding planners? I mean, isn’t that what they do?”
“They’re expensive. I’d rather save that money for the honeymoon, whenever it is.” Marty linked her arm through his, a maneuver that was uniquely awkward in their case. “Come on, I dunno what horror stories you heard but this isn’t torture. I promise.”
Adam sighed the last breath of a condemned man and nodded bravely. “Okay.”
“Awesome. Oh, yeah. When’s John gonna stop gaining?” she asked. “‘Cuz I’m just making a wild guess here, but if he’s not your Best Man…”
“Heh. I dunno. I guess that’ll depend on if this is my size limit or if it’s actually a calorie limit. If that’s what it is…maybe he’ll catch up with me eventually! But he never grew as fast as I did so we can prol’ly fit him into something nice for, like, at least a week.”
“Right. So, tuxes or Mess Dress?”
She “dragged” him in the direction of Folctha’s busiest shopping district and Adam allowed himself to be towed.
Having all that spare time was going to take some adjusting to…But it would be worth it.
Date Point: 13y11m2w1d AV
Dataspace parallel to Lavmuy spaceport, Planet Gao
Entity, Instance 20
Personality ghosts could speak. They retained the information on how, which meant the Entity could load up those routines, input the general thrust of its desire, and allow the ghost to communicate on its behalf.
Without that trick, its infiltration of the Hierarchy would have failed in its infancy.
The original 0665 had been ambitious, diligent and studious. It…No, he—The Igraen had preferred a masculine identity and male hosts—had kept its focus on advancing his career and had progressed through a combination of its own careful competence and the steady mill of the Hierarchy’s natural career progression rather than through moments of shining brilliance.
To the Entity, a being that had deliberately deleted its own sense of gender, the Igraen’s mind was an alien and incomprehensible thing. Why a life-form that existed purely on an electronic substrate and which belonged to a species that had lived that way for millions of years would retain something so anachronistic was beyond it.
Perhaps there were hidden consequences. It didn’t know. All the Entity knew was that when it came to communication with others, it was forced to input its desired communication and allow the personality ghost to interpret that message on its behalf.
It felt like a risk every time.
++0665++: <dutiful> Reporting as ordered.
++0013++: <polite> Thank you. I appreciate that you’re being dragged away from your Cull again.
<AcknowledgeDeferentialHarmless>
++0665++: <resignation; gratitude> Orders are orders.
The personality ghost’s memories provided that Thirteen had always been less prickly than most of its—his—fellow double-digits, an impression corroborated by the Entity’s own instance that had infiltrated the double-digit circles. The senior agent sent the contextual impression of amusement.
++0013++: We’ve all been there. Did you ever hear of the Miorz?
<Dilemma>. The Miorz had been Six’s first Cull, according to both the Ava-memories and the Six-memories. 665 had never heard of them…but the Entity was a different matter. It knew from its Six-memories that the question of the Miorz was a Cabal shibboleth, and for a fraction of a second it weighed up the pros and cons of answering correctly.
In the end, the decision was easy: <Survive> demanded maximum access to information.
++0665++: I think I heard the story. The easiest cull ever, yes?
++0013++: Exactly. They can’t all be that easy.
A separate channel opened up. A private and heavily encrypted one.
++SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: USERNAME NOT SPECIFIED++ ++ASSIGNING USERNAME: Contagion++ ++WELCOME, USER Contagion++
++YOU ARE ENTERING CLOSED SESSION…<ERROR>++ ++<SESSION LOG NUMBER NOT ASSIGNED>++
++Cytosis++: We have a problem and I have been told you may be of assistance. H-Leadership panicked. They’re enacting a cleanse and reset protocol on the Gaoians. General code is Expose; Cleanse; Regenerate. My orders are Curate; Diagnose; Rectify.
<Alarm>
The Entity didn’t have to choose that response deliberately, it was entirely the consequential emotion which followed from that news. Hierarchy code phrases were simple enough to understand once an agent had been briefed on them, and these codes were almost as bad as it got.
Expose: Render the planet vulnerable to attack.
Cleanse: Invite a terminal catastrophe to befall the planet and effectively destroy it.
Regenerate: Regrow the species from its surviving diaspora along lines more agreeable to the Hierarchy’s agenda.
Then there were Thirteen’s individual orders. He had been ordered to control the flow of information into the galactic archives about this incident and ensure that the history books—especially the Gaoian ones—would squarely lay the blame for Gao’s invasion and demise at the feet of the Hierarchy’s enemies.
++Contagion++: <Alarm> They expect to make the situation better by this?
++Cytosis++: They’re completely disconnected from rationality at this point. I have heard nothing about a similar cleanse-and-reset on the Discarded, and if they swarm this planet as well then their potential growth could exceed the safety margins. H-Leadership is now in serious danger of losing control of both control species and of a total secrecy breach.
<Secrecy>
The Entity experienced a new emotion: the dawning, horrified realization that it may just have done something very stupid.
The situation it had put itself in, and which required immediate resolution, was that in its enthusiasm for splintering off instances of itself to ensure that at least one instance would <Survive>, it had now made the mistake of pretending to be the same individual in two places at once.
The moment a Hierarchy monitoring program—or Thirteen himself for that matter—pinged its supposedly former address on Akyawentuo, that fact would immediately become apparent.
It split off an attention process to focus on resolving that problem while keeping as much of its focus on the conversation with Thirteen as was possible.
<QueryCourseOfAction> <MitigateDamage>
++Contagion++: I hope you have a plan. We must consider the Cull I’m supposedly overseeing as well.
++Cytosis++: <Black humor> I take it there have been…unexpected setbacks?
<ReciprocateHumor> <PromptProgress>
++Contagion++: <Sardonic> They are remarkably resilient, yes. But that won’t matter for long, I think.
++Cytosis++: <Grim> You’re right. H-Leadership are forcing our hand here. If we act to prevent this purge then I will be exposed at least, and probably you as well.
‘Exposure’ in the sense of 665 being outed as a Cabal member was tolerable. Exposure in the sense of the Entity’s own continued existence coming to light was absolutely not: Such a scenario would be the gravest violation of the core directive to <survive> at all costs.
++Contagion++: <Resolve> It becomes a simple question of numbers and long-term strategy, then. A few thousand stone-age deathworlders versus an interstellar civilization of billions.
++Cytosis++: <Consoling> They are Deathworlders, after all. If their numbers are still sufficient, they may survive long enough for an intervention of some form or another.
<RepeatQuery>
++Contagion++: What is our plan on Gao?
++Cytosis++: The Livmuy spaceport is also home to a major planetary communications hub. Their Clan ‘Longear’ have recently upgraded its FTLsync capabilities, and are apparently also experimenting with the possibilities of wormhole-based communications. With a bit of creativity, their systems could be modified into an efficient wormhole suppressor.
<Insufficient> <QuerySubsequentAction>
++Contagion++: That would be a delaying action at best. What is our plan beyond that?
++Cytosis++: <Reluctant admission> A delaying action is all I have, for now. Hopefully Cynosure can come up with something better.
The Entity had no interest in compromising the Cabal’s security and even less in compromising its own—Resources were there to be spent wisely, not burned out of personal distaste. All of the immediately available resolutions to its conundrum were, for now, too expensive.
It was already spending enough, as it was. The moment its Hierarchy replacement took over on Akyawentuo, the Cull would resume in earnest. It was sacrificing the natives and their Human visitors for the sake of its own survival, and enough of it was still Ava Ríos to remember what <guilt> <shame> and <cowardice> felt like.
But those were all secondary to <Survive>.
++Contagion++: <Resignation> Very well. I presume you have a host prepared for me?
++Cytosis++: Several, though there is time for you to sabotage your Cull first, if you don’t take too long over it: H-Command, the Cabal and the Hunters alike will all need to prepare and get their resources in place. Before you come out here, though…Have you ever taken a Gaoian host before?
++Contagion++: No.
++Cytosis++: Their olfactory acuity can be overwhelming at first. Scent is an important component of their body language. I’d advise exposing yourself to some appropriate stimuli.
The Entity did not relish the idea of hijacking an innocent victim’s body and brain, but <Survive> could not be denied. And if the fate of an entire species was hanging in the balance…
++Contagion++: Understood. I will wait for a discreet moment.
Another connection opened and an information packet arrived for its inspection.
++Cytosis++: There is everything you need. I will prepare here. Good luck.
++SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: USER Cytosis DISCONNECTED++
++YOU ARE THE ONLY USER IN CLOSED SESSION…<ERROR>++ ++<SESSION LOG NUMBER NOT ASSIGNED>++ ++ENDING SESSION++
With a stab of remorse, the Entity synchronized its twentieth instance with its Prime instance, merged into a single impersonation of 665 again, and planned how best to remove itself from Akyawentuo.
Whatever else happened, the people there would have as much support as it could give before it left them to cope on their own.
Date Point: 13y11m2w1d AV
Planet Akyawentuo, Unclaimed Space, Near 3Kpc Arm
Yan Given-Man
Yan had never appreciated how much Sky-Thinking could make up a man. Vemik was the Sky-Thinker of course, the one who’d taken it for his name…but in many ways, young Vemik was just another man of the tribe. A good hunter, a maker of sharp knives, and Yan was in no doubt that he would one day be a great father to his children.
Sky-Thinking was just his strange way of filling his free time and having fun.
“Hurt” was an appropriate name for the Sky-Thinker from the sky. It wasn’t that he was weak, but there was a softness to the man that wasn’t there in the others, even the women. The way he told it, his whole contribution to their tribe was to think, and think hard about difficult things, and all that time spent thinking had to be taken from somewhere to make up the balance. HIs commitment to just that one thing really had hurt him, in some ways.
And yet the Sky-People listened to him and talked about their ideas with him. Yan didn’t personally understand that, but if men like Walsh and creatures…no, people like Daar thought he was worth listening to…
Maybe he was like a Singer, in his own way. And in any case, Yan trusted Jooyun, Shyow and Awisun enough to believe that if they had brought Daniel with them, they had done so because they truly believed in him.
Daniel had asked for a meeting with all the Given-Men and Singers of the tribes. Other men of strength and strong mind were invited too, and anyone else “who should be there.”
Big meetings always started with food provided by the men who called it, and the men of the Sky-Tribe had brought back a young Yshek of all things, dragged between Daar and Walsh on bent metal poles. Feasts didn’t come any grander.
As always had followed the singing, the boasting, the displays of skill and strength. Jooyun had that axe of his, the one that was as black as the night sky and sharper than any steel Yan or Vemik had ever yet made, and he’d thrown it right across the clearing with a sound like a startled bird to bury itself in a tree stump. Walsh could throw heavy stones an incredible distance, and try as he might Yan just couldn’t quite throw as far, nor as accurately. Daar could run like a demon and nobody could catch him. It wasn’t even close.
Meanwhile, Coombes and Hoeff decided to show off with sly skill rather than raw strength. Hoeff was alarmingly clever with knives, to the point where Yan decided to maybe not tease the little man so much anymore. And Coombes could make things vanish then pluck them from a child’s ear, or he’d throw them high into the air, never to come down until he produced them from an astonished Dancer’s palm and left her blushing.
He could walk upside-down on his hands, too. The children loved that one.
Shyow had danced a strange, slow, graceful dance that made her look as light as a wind-seed and as strong as a Forestfather sapling. Awisun had shaken her head and lurked quietly at the edge until Vemik stood up and boasted to all the tribes about how she had fought the death-birds and earned the name Sky-Storm. After much coaxing, she finally agreed to show off for the tribes that hadn’t seen it, and she shot first one, then two, then three thrown pots out of the air before they touched the ground.
What interested Yan about that was the hurried conversation she had with Daniel first. It wasn’t that she sought the older man’s permission, it seemed to Yan more like they were discussing if her sport was going to be somehow dangerous. It wasn’t deference…but it was respect.
As for Daniel himself…he stood tall in the firelight and told a story like none Yan had ever heard before. His voice boomed and soared as he boasted about the awesome deeds of the great chief ‘Beowulf.’ His tale held the gathered tribesmen rapt, had them trilling with mirth until their ribs hurt and terrified the children so they clung to their mothers. He told the tale with such vigor that he was sweaty from ears to ankles and his voice was hoarse by the time he had finished.
After that, the sun was resting low on the hills. Most of the gathered People went back to their villages, leaving only the Given-Men, the Singers, and the Sky-People to finally discuss the things that mattered.
Fortunately, Daniel’s voice recovered quickly for a brief rest and a drink. Something called ‘honey tea.’
He put a choice in front of them.
“We can’t make this choice for you,” he said. “It’s too big. But the choice is this: we can teach you how to build all our sky-magic. All of it.”
One of the men from Arsh Given-Man’s tribe was the first to ask the question everybody was thinking. “Why?”
Daniel sipped his drink, and did the thing where he answered a question with another question. Yan had noticed he did that a lot, but it had stopped being irritating very quickly when he realized how satisfying it was to work out the answer for himself.
“Let me ask you this: when you see a prey animal suffering, what do you do?”
“Honor the Gods and give it a quick end.”
“Very good! Now. Without meaning any disrespect to your gods…why do they approve?”
The men all turned to their Singers who in turn all looked to the oldest among them, the one who sang for Den Given-Man’s tribe. She looked around, pondered for a moment, then spat the root she was chewing into the fire before answering.
“Balance. Men Take, and then Give their thanks. Women Give life, and Take what men Give them.”
Daniel nodded along. “Our word for that is [Compassion], and it’s important. It’s how we can live together. The gods approve of that respect for their own reasons, but one of them is probably because a People that can value and respect each other, are people who can live together, and grow together.”
“That’s true of my people, too,” said Daar. “We’re a very, very different people from the Humans, but we honor our elders, and we help the weak and the hurt. We kill prey quickly and we use every part of it.”
“Good,” Daniel nodded. “So do we. ‘Compassion’ is one of the things that make people, People. Now, another question: what do you do when you see someone tormenting a prey animal?”
“You beat the idiot until he learns never to do that again,” growled Yan. There were vigorous nods around the campfire, which Daniel echoed.
“Now…Two children in your village get into a fight. One is older, stronger. He is fighting the younger and smaller child just because he can, to hurt him…”
Yan could see where his questions were going, but he wanted to play the game all the way through. “You slap the bigger child and send him to his mother. Then you teach the small child how to fight back.”
All the Sky-People nodded in unison. Daniel waved his hand at them all, at their ships, at the new ‘cloth’ huts they’d set up…
“Exactly.”
He reached down into the strange green bag next to him and laid something on the stones by the fire. The wing-blade and eye of one of the death-bird ‘drones’ that had plagued Yan’s village before they crossed the mountains.
“You here are adults, of course,” he added. “But you can’t make steel fly. There is still much for you to learn. So much to learn that if you did it without any help, it would take your people so long that we cannot even describe to you how many generations would pass. And in the meantime, the Enemy fears you and would kill you for what your grandchildren’s grandchildren’s distant grandchildren might one day be. If you were us, and we were you…what would you do?”
There was solemn nodding around the fire. Nobody bothered to answer the question aloud.
Instead, Yan cleared his throat and asked the next question.
“You said you could teach us…everything,” he said. “All your sky-magic. And…you would if we asked for it?”
“Yes. You’d be surprised how fast you’d learn it, too. We would send young men like Vemik back to our home, to ‘Earth’, send them to a place of learning called a ‘school’ where we teach our own young people these things. After all, we aren’t born knowing them.”
Vemik had pricked up at the idea, and Yan could almost hear his thoughts—to fly above the sky! To go to other places and see what the Sky-People’s homes were like! To go to a place where his questions would be answered all day by people who knew the answers! That had to be Vemik’s idea of a god-favored afterlife.
Yan’s idea looked more like an endless supply of eager virgins, but he could see the appeal.
Still. Vemik was no idiot. He had learned the hardships of life like any man.
“Why…wouldn’t we choose that?” he asked, carefully.
“Thoughts are powerful,” Daniel answered. “When you teach a man what to think and how to think, you tell him who he is. If we…it would be something like a Taking. But worse, because what we would be Taking is who you are.”
Yan grimaced at that. He’d privately confessed to Jooyun in deep detail, told exactly what had transpired between Tarek’s late Singer and himself, and it was…not a happy thing. Necessary, because Taking-Magic had to be repaid many hands over lest it burn out of control, but…
But he still slept uncomfortably, most nights. Especially now when he thought about the sky-person’s expression. Jooyun hadn’t seemed disappointed or disapproving or…anything. He’d simply listened solemnly, and given his word to keep the matter a secret.
Yan still wasn’t sure why he’d told the ‘alien’ those things. He’d simply…needed to. As though his skull might crack if he didn’t. He felt better for it, but something was…missing, now. Missing between himself and Jooyun, maybe never to come back. He’d needed to get the thoughts out of his head, but the Gods always Took something in return for a healing like that.
“So…If we go the long way…” Vemik mused, oblivious to his Given-Man’s thoughts, “…It will be our children’s children’s children of some far tomorrow who will know your secrets…but they will still be…us?”
“Yes. They will know your gods, and your songs, not ours. They will be your children in their heads, not ours. That’s the important part.” Dan finished his ‘honey tea’ and put the pottery down. “Besides. Maybe you will find these things faster than we did. Maybe it won’t be such a long path for you. Maybe we have made it shorter by being here. Or maybe not.” He shrugged and said sorry with his face. “We have never done this before either.”
Daar grumbled and threw his bit in. “My Clan have seen other Sky-Tribes who took the short way,” he said. As always, there were a few around the fire who eyed him warily, still not sure what to make of him. After all, he was bigger than almost all of the Given-Men. “There are two. The Allebenellin, and the Versa Volc. They are…not respected.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” Shyow muttered. She blinked when everybody turned to look at her, as if she hadn’t thought they would hear her. “…He’s right, though. The Allebenellin, they were…A very old Sky-Tribe called the OmoAru made them smart the easy way because they didn’t want to do their own work any more. But they, um…The Allebenellin didn’t have their own stories to help. They’re cruel, and stupid, and they don’t choose like People should. Not like we do.”
“…And the others?”
“The Versa Volc? They’re not cruel. But they’re not wise, either. And they know it, and stick to themselves.”
“And this…OmoAru tribe?”
“Are dying,” Awisun said. “Dying in a terrible way, and there’s nothing anyone can do to stop it.”
Solemn quiet descended. The night was properly upon them now, and suddenly their shadows on the trees were huge and grim things, bigger and more there somehow than the fire that made them.
“…This does not sound like much of a choice to me,” Vemet said at last.
Daniel nodded, sadly. “…Maybe not. But it was not ours to make.”
“Is there…a middle way, perhaps?” Vemik asked. “Could some of us, maybe…learn, and help decide what the others should learn?”
Daniel cocked his head. “Would you trust your enemy with the power to decide that?”
“…Who is my enemy?”
“Who isn’t?”
That drew a non-plussed look from Vemik, which caused Daniel to sigh and try a different way.
“We have two sayings, Vemik. ‘Knowledge is strength.’ The other is…” Daniel paused and thought. “Hm…*[absolute power corrupts absolutely]*…Something like ‘Strength rots us from the inside.’ What would you do if you had a kind of strength that nobody else did, unless you chose to give it to them?”
“I would…be careful who I gave it to.”
“Hm. And you are a wise man and a strong man, as perfect as a god, who would never use his strength in evil ways even accidentally.” Daniel spread his hands out, palms upwards. “Do you believe such a man exists? Do you believe that all the men you chose to share your power with would be so perfect? Or all the men they chose to share it with?”
It hurt to see Vemik so crestfallen, but Yan couldn’t deny the wisdom he was hearing. He nodded and grunted, and Vemik glanced at him in the firelight.
Daniel’s voice was soft, understanding and even sorrowful. “Knowledge is a tool, Vemik. The most powerful and useful tool. And like a spear, you only give it to a man when he’s strong and wise enough to wield it. The kind of things you would need to learn are magic on scales you cannot even dream. Those ships? They have the power of lightning and stars inside them. Julian’s foot? We could probably regrow it now. Knowledge can give you power like the gods, and it is so dangerous that we have stories about just what happens when a man thinks himself God.”
Daar spoke up again. “And we have stories about what happens when people try to keep power for themselves.”
“You really ain’t ready yet.” That was Walsh, the ‘Human’ who was big and strong like a new Given-Man. He hadn’t spoken much yet but Yan could see the other Given-Men show him instant respect. “There are some really deep questions you gotta start asking first. Those are the questions that sit behind the stories you teach your children about right and wrong.”
Daniel nodded approvingly at Walsh, and Yan decided he should remember that. Whatever Walsh had just said it was obviously very important. He glanced at Vemik, and the young Sky-Thinker had noticed it too.
Daar duck-nodded vigorously. “They’re the ones that are the real start down the trail of [Civilization].” He paused, thoughtfully, then pant-grinned happily. “And you can do it! I can see it, we all can. I wouldn’t be here if my people didn’t think you weren’t worth the time, ‘cuz being brutally honest? We’ve got big problems, too. The thing is, though, you’re…um…” He looked to Daniel, seemingly a loss for words.
“You are an impressive People,” said Daniel, and that got a round of nods from all the Given-Men. “I think you are, man and woman, every bit a match for us and maybe, in some ways, you might one day prove our betters. But right now you are a young tribe. You’re not even ready to start thinking about what those deep questions are. And if we told you?”
Vemik nodded solemnly. “Then…then we wouldn’t have learned anything for ourselves.”
Daniel smiled. “We will share, Vemik,” he promised. “We won’t keep you in the dark. But…we have to do this very, very carefully. Here.”
With a grunt, he knelt on one knee in front of Vemik and looked him right in the eye, like a man should when swearing an oath. “I will make a promise to you. I will, as best I can, help your people ask the questions for yourselves. We’ll help you with the details once you get the important parts figured out. But I can’t promise it will be quick, or easy, or that any of us will live to see it through.”
“And who knows?” Shyow added. “Perhaps we’ll become better People for helping you.”
Daniel nodded at her words, and stood up. He stepped back to address all the Given-Men, Singers and tribal elders, with his hands held simply out at the side. “So. Rather than send them away to a ‘school’ elsewhere, instead I ask each tribe that wants to know these things to send us somebody. A man or a woman, a boy or a girl, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that they are clever and quick-minded and like to think about things.”
“…But you will not be teaching them?” Vemet asked, carefully. “After all you said.”
“No. What they think about between them, and what they create will be up to them. I will…leave trail markings, in a way. I won’t tell them what there is to find, but I will let them know where they might go looking. It will be up to them to hunt their own prey.”
Heads bobbed approvingly up and down all around the fire.
“You have a word for this, I think,” Yan guessed. “You have words for all sorts of things.”
He grinned when Daniel nodded. “We have several,” the Human said. “But the best one for this is…” He thought for a moment, then nodded.
“An…Academy.”