the prow of the Canticle of Reason . “We are expected shortly.”
****
Hale and Un’qu walked on to the Canticle’s bridge. The command center of the former void ship had been transformed into a nexus for the planet’s defense. Maps with hastily written notes taped to them and a billboard with a long list of Dotok alphabet words were surrounded by squabbling groups of Dotok.
“What’s all this?” Hale asked Un’qu.
“We’re trying to decide which outpost to evacuate next. The Chosen from several villages think their lists rate higher than the others. There was an order of merit list with the First, but it was lost when the rail station was destroyed,” Un’qu said. “Along with the First.”
“Lists?” Hale asked.
“A hold over from our time in space,” Pa’lon said from behind Hale. The elderly Dotok, flanked by a pair of nurses, walked towards them with aide of a cane. “Was a time that any ship could have failed, and their crew and passengers lost. There’s only so much room on a fleet, if a ship was going to be evacuated, the ship master, the ‘chosen’ would get his most valuable people off first. Keep those with special skill sets alive over those who’d do nothing else but waste oxygen. The First might decide to move a hundred survivors off a failing ship elsewhere in the fleet, and the other chosen would make room for them.”
“By getting rid of those on the bottom of your lists?” Hale asked.
“That’s correct. It became a caste system,” Pa’lon said. “Skilled workers, talented artists, they stayed at the top of the lists. Those without useful knowledge or undesirables, criminals and such, fell to the bottom. Mobility was possible, but families settled into a rating band and stayed there. It kept going after we made landfall, even when we didn’t need it. Some traditions were too hard to break. Now we’re suffering for it.”
Pa’lon sank to a low crouch, a palsy shaking his left hand.
“You all right?” Hale asked.
“I’m old and sick, doesn’t that happen to humans too?” Pa’lon asked.
“The Ancient has been ill for some time,” Un’qu said. “Let him rest before the council meeting.” The Dotok officer led Hale away to the billboard.
“Your communication device translates what is spoken, but not the written word,” Un’qu said. “Allow me to explain. The top of the list has the cities with the highest known population, those with lines through them are confirmed to be lost to the noorla .” The Dotok’s eyes drifted down to entry toward the lower third of the list.
“What’s there?” Hale asked.
“My wife and child,” Un’qu said. “Usonvi is a place where low-listers choose to settle. I met my wife during a field training exercise there almost a year ago. My parents are still furious that I married someone so low. Moving them to New Abhaile proved difficult.”
“You’re pretty high up there?”
“Oh yes, anyone descended from the Ancient Pa’lon is expected to do great things, the opportunities present themselves. Nepotism. All against the Ancient’s wishes and guidance. If he was around more it might change, but his illness makes that difficult.”
Hale shook his head. “Let’s stay focused. I’ll have the Breitenfeld send down an air traffic control team and organize evac from whatever air assets we can spare.”
“But how will they know which places to evacuate first? The council might appoint a new First soon, shouldn’t we wait?”
“Let me tell you about Marines. We will do something constructive right away instead of waiting to figure out the perfect answer ten minutes too late.”
“But the council—”
“Our help doesn’t come limited by your conditions and we’re not going to wait around for you to get your act together.”
A robed Dotok stepped onto the bridge and rang a bell three times.
“The meeting begins,” Un’qu said.
****
The Dotok equivalent of a conference room was
****
Hale and Un’qu walked on to the Canticle’s bridge. The command center of the former void ship had been transformed into a nexus for the planet’s defense. Maps with hastily written notes taped to them and a billboard with a long list of Dotok alphabet words were surrounded by squabbling groups of Dotok.
“What’s all this?” Hale asked Un’qu.
“We’re trying to decide which outpost to evacuate next. The Chosen from several villages think their lists rate higher than the others. There was an order of merit list with the First, but it was lost when the rail station was destroyed,” Un’qu said. “Along with the First.”
“Lists?” Hale asked.
“A hold over from our time in space,” Pa’lon said from behind Hale. The elderly Dotok, flanked by a pair of nurses, walked towards them with aide of a cane. “Was a time that any ship could have failed, and their crew and passengers lost. There’s only so much room on a fleet, if a ship was going to be evacuated, the ship master, the ‘chosen’ would get his most valuable people off first. Keep those with special skill sets alive over those who’d do nothing else but waste oxygen. The First might decide to move a hundred survivors off a failing ship elsewhere in the fleet, and the other chosen would make room for them.”
“By getting rid of those on the bottom of your lists?” Hale asked.
“That’s correct. It became a caste system,” Pa’lon said. “Skilled workers, talented artists, they stayed at the top of the lists. Those without useful knowledge or undesirables, criminals and such, fell to the bottom. Mobility was possible, but families settled into a rating band and stayed there. It kept going after we made landfall, even when we didn’t need it. Some traditions were too hard to break. Now we’re suffering for it.”
Pa’lon sank to a low crouch, a palsy shaking his left hand.
“You all right?” Hale asked.
“I’m old and sick, doesn’t that happen to humans too?” Pa’lon asked.
“The Ancient has been ill for some time,” Un’qu said. “Let him rest before the council meeting.” The Dotok officer led Hale away to the billboard.
“Your communication device translates what is spoken, but not the written word,” Un’qu said. “Allow me to explain. The top of the list has the cities with the highest known population, those with lines through them are confirmed to be lost to the noorla .” The Dotok’s eyes drifted down to entry toward the lower third of the list.
“What’s there?” Hale asked.
“My wife and child,” Un’qu said. “Usonvi is a place where low-listers choose to settle. I met my wife during a field training exercise there almost a year ago. My parents are still furious that I married someone so low. Moving them to New Abhaile proved difficult.”
“You’re pretty high up there?”
“Oh yes, anyone descended from the Ancient Pa’lon is expected to do great things, the opportunities present themselves. Nepotism. All against the Ancient’s wishes and guidance. If he was around more it might change, but his illness makes that difficult.”
Hale shook his head. “Let’s stay focused. I’ll have the Breitenfeld send down an air traffic control team and organize evac from whatever air assets we can spare.”
“But how will they know which places to evacuate first? The council might appoint a new First soon, shouldn’t we wait?”
“Let me tell you about Marines. We will do something constructive right away instead of waiting to figure out the perfect answer ten minutes too late.”
“But the council—”
“Our help doesn’t come limited by your conditions and we’re not going to wait around for you to get your act together.”
A robed Dotok stepped onto the bridge and rang a bell three times.
“The meeting begins,” Un’qu said.
****
The Dotok equivalent of a conference room was
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