The Children of the Sky

The diagnostic window showed serious relay problems. Some of the forwarding devices were probably riding with the evening glowbugs up on the surface; maybe those insects were thinning as the night air cooled. Several seconds passed. Oobii’s guesses were not converging. Finally a little red flag appeared, indicating that clarity was unattainable with the data being received. Sigh. Ravna raised the level of acceptable uncertainty, and waved for the programs to proceed. Sometimes this surveillance reminded her too much of pre-tech fairy tales: She was a sorceress hunched over her crystal ball, doing her best to scry truth from uncertain auguries.

After a moment, Oobii generated its best guess: The displays jigged back a second or two and restarted. Flenser was saying: “Even so, my boy. What problems are troubling you?”

Amdi moved a little closer. “You made Steel and Steel made me.”

Gentle laughter. “Of course. I made Steel, and mainly from my own members. But Steel assembled you from the new-born puppies of geniuses that he purchased, stole, and murdered for—from all across the continent. You are among the rarest of packs, born all at once, all of puppies. Like a two-legs.”

“Yes, like a human.” Oobii’s imagery showed tears in Amdi’s eyes. “And now dying like a human, even though humans don’t begin to get old while they’re still children.”

“Ah,” said Flenser. Ravna noticed that the one with the white tipped ears had tilted its wheelbarrow forward and extended its neck toward Amdi. Wow. The overlapping mindsounds should be loud enough to be emotionally confusing to both packs. But Flenser’s voice—as represented by the surveillance program, always keep that in mind—was as cool as ever: “Haven’t we discussed this before? Unanimous ageing is a tragedy, but your members are still only fourteen years old. Your bad times are easily twenty years in the future, when my grand schemes will finally—”

Amdi’s interruption didn’t quite fit: “I loved Mr. Steel. Of course, I didn’t know he was a monster.”

Flenser shrugged. “That’s how I made him. My mistake, I’m afraid.”

“I know. But you made up for that!” Amdi hesitated, his voice coming more quietly. “And now there’s Jefri’s problem. You.…”

Ravna’s head came up. What about Jefri? But Amdi didn’t finish the sentence.

After a moment, Flenser said, “Yes, I’m doing what I can about that. Now what new problem has ambushed you?”

Amdi was making human crying sounds, the sounds of a small lost child. “I’ve learned that two of me are Great Plains short-timers.”

Ravna had to think for a second. Great Plains short-timers? That was a racial group. They didn’t look different from most other Tines, though they tended to congenital heart disease. Short-timers rarely lived more than twenty years.

In the other windows, Ravna could see Flenser’s heads bobbing. “Those two of you have chest pains?”

“Yes. And eyesight problems.”

“Oh my,” said Flenser. “Short-timers. That is a problem. I’ll check—” The audio faltered, perhaps Oobii grappling with some exceptionally great ambiguity. “I’ll check Steel’s records, but I fear you may be right. It’s a well-known tradeoff among broodkenners: the Great Plains short-timers often have excellent geometrical imaginations. Still and all, it’s not unanimous ageing.”

Amdiranifani was shivering. “When those two of me die—I won’t be me anymore.”

“Every pack faces that, my boy. Unless we get killed all at once, change is what life is all about.”

“For you, maybe! For ordinary packs. But I came into the world all at once, with nothing before. Mr. Steel struck a balance when he brought me together. If I lose two, if I lose even one, I’ll—”

“Woodcarver’s broodkenners can find some kind of match. Or you may find that six is as large as your mind can comfortably be.” Flenser’s tone was overtly sympathetic, but—quite consistent with his usual manner—somehow dismissive at the same time.

“No, please! If I lose any one of my eight, I will fall apart like an arch without a keystone. I beg you, Mr. Tyrathect. You made Mr. Steel. You made the Disaster Study Group. You made Jefri betray everyone. In all that monstering, can’t there be some good miracles?”