already out of the bag. Surely, that was more Faxon’s fault than mine? I hoped. It would be beyond awful if almost the first thing I’d done as Sovereign was precipitate a Grentl attack.
“Power reserves have fallen dramatically since my last report,” Leontine commented, displaying the two figures side by side. “Far more than between that report and the previous one, thirty-four years earlier.”
He was right. I pulled up that number for all the previous reports and saw that while power had slowly but steadily declined over time, maybe since the very start of the colony, the drop was far greater over the past forty-six years.
Curious, I searched a few other databases and discovered that the precipitous drain had occurred during Faxon’s tenure. Not only had he or his people introduced inefficiencies into all sorts of systems, from transportation to agriculture, but whatever secret military stuff he was doing—those particular files were missing—had also used an enormous amount of power.
To my inexperienced eye, it looked like Nuath’s century or so of continued existence might now have been cut to barely half that. Assuming, of course, that the Grentl didn’t plan to wipe us out even sooner.
Finalizing the report took nearly two hours. It would have gone faster if I hadn’t had to keep switching out the Archives. The version of Leontine in the main Archive was the most helpful by far, but he had to keep censoring himself to avoid any direct mention of the Grentl.
“I guess I understand the security reasons behind this,” I said when it happened for the fourth time, “but it seems kind of silly. I mean, nobody but a Sovereign can access either Archive, right?”
“Not as far as we know,” he agreed. “But there is always a risk of…hacking, I believe is the modern English word? It seemed a sensible precaution when my mother set up the system.”
“I suppose,” I said, thinking of Faxon. “Anyway, can you show me how to store my report on a data chip? And how to make it work once I, um, get where I need to go?” I didn’t use the G word, since it made this version of Leontine clam up.
“There should be empty data chips in the small drawer to the right of your vidscreen.” There were. “This process is quite simple. As for the other, can you not ask one of the Engineers to accompany you?”
I shook my head. “There aren’t any. Eric Eagan was the last, and he died right after showing me…how to do what I needed to do.”
“Eric? In my time, he was by far the oldest of those with that knowledge. I did not expect him to outlive me—though apparently my demise was no more natural than that of your parents.” He was so much more like a real person than his image in the other Archive.
His comment reminded me that at some point I’d need to sit down and add my own short history to the Archive. Not only would it be useful for later Sovereigns—still a weird thought—but it might help my grandfather, or any other Sovereigns I might consult, to advise me better going forward. I didn’t have time now, though.
“So, the data chip?” I held one up.
“Yes, of course. There is a slot halfway down the Scepter, between the two green stones. Insert it there and give the command to copy the most recent report. I’m sure I need not caution you not to leave the chip lying around. I recommend you erase it after you are finished.”
Swapping out the stones again, I did as he told me, then swapped them back, my report now in digital form, in my pocket. “Oh, how do I use the data chip…downstairs?” I asked my grandfather.
“With no Engineer to show you, all I can say is that it works much the same way, in reverse. Look to the lower left for the slot.”
That was more detail than I’d expected him to give me, given his reticence about the Grentl. I hoped it would be enough.
“Thank you…Grandfather.”
He smiled down at me with an incredible illusion of genuine fondness.
“Power reserves have fallen dramatically since my last report,” Leontine commented, displaying the two figures side by side. “Far more than between that report and the previous one, thirty-four years earlier.”
He was right. I pulled up that number for all the previous reports and saw that while power had slowly but steadily declined over time, maybe since the very start of the colony, the drop was far greater over the past forty-six years.
Curious, I searched a few other databases and discovered that the precipitous drain had occurred during Faxon’s tenure. Not only had he or his people introduced inefficiencies into all sorts of systems, from transportation to agriculture, but whatever secret military stuff he was doing—those particular files were missing—had also used an enormous amount of power.
To my inexperienced eye, it looked like Nuath’s century or so of continued existence might now have been cut to barely half that. Assuming, of course, that the Grentl didn’t plan to wipe us out even sooner.
Finalizing the report took nearly two hours. It would have gone faster if I hadn’t had to keep switching out the Archives. The version of Leontine in the main Archive was the most helpful by far, but he had to keep censoring himself to avoid any direct mention of the Grentl.
“I guess I understand the security reasons behind this,” I said when it happened for the fourth time, “but it seems kind of silly. I mean, nobody but a Sovereign can access either Archive, right?”
“Not as far as we know,” he agreed. “But there is always a risk of…hacking, I believe is the modern English word? It seemed a sensible precaution when my mother set up the system.”
“I suppose,” I said, thinking of Faxon. “Anyway, can you show me how to store my report on a data chip? And how to make it work once I, um, get where I need to go?” I didn’t use the G word, since it made this version of Leontine clam up.
“There should be empty data chips in the small drawer to the right of your vidscreen.” There were. “This process is quite simple. As for the other, can you not ask one of the Engineers to accompany you?”
I shook my head. “There aren’t any. Eric Eagan was the last, and he died right after showing me…how to do what I needed to do.”
“Eric? In my time, he was by far the oldest of those with that knowledge. I did not expect him to outlive me—though apparently my demise was no more natural than that of your parents.” He was so much more like a real person than his image in the other Archive.
His comment reminded me that at some point I’d need to sit down and add my own short history to the Archive. Not only would it be useful for later Sovereigns—still a weird thought—but it might help my grandfather, or any other Sovereigns I might consult, to advise me better going forward. I didn’t have time now, though.
“So, the data chip?” I held one up.
“Yes, of course. There is a slot halfway down the Scepter, between the two green stones. Insert it there and give the command to copy the most recent report. I’m sure I need not caution you not to leave the chip lying around. I recommend you erase it after you are finished.”
Swapping out the stones again, I did as he told me, then swapped them back, my report now in digital form, in my pocket. “Oh, how do I use the data chip…downstairs?” I asked my grandfather.
“With no Engineer to show you, all I can say is that it works much the same way, in reverse. Look to the lower left for the slot.”
That was more detail than I’d expected him to give me, given his reticence about the Grentl. I hoped it would be enough.
“Thank you…Grandfather.”
He smiled down at me with an incredible illusion of genuine fondness.
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