tremendous amount of energy to produce the necessary titanium.”
“You were going to look into the possibility of producing it in orbit, in solar-powered factories.”
“I was and I did. There are no adequate titanium ores available anywhere in the system other than right here on the planet. I’m sorry. The girderwork will have to be produced down here and lifted into orbit.”
Kiljar asked, “Who will manage all of this? Consider the politics. It will be an alliance of all the Communities and the brethren, and will represent and include most meth bonds. With that many interests, there is no hope of working in harmony for the time required. Many sisters will not tolerate taking orders from old enemies or from competitors in other orders. None will take directions from brethren, even where brethren are the competent experts. None will work with bonds as though they are equals.”
“Setting this in motion will require a formal convention, as Senior Kiljar has said,” Marika said. “Most of that will have to be fought out there. One possibility would be for the Communities to elect a most senior of most seniors for a fixed term and give her absolute powers and a group of judges to enforce them.”
“The smaller sisterhoods would object strenuously,” Kiljar said.
“Then, perhaps, a continuous convention in which grievances can be aired as they arise, given the understanding that work must go on uninterrupted.”
Bagnel snorted derisively. “No, Marika. I see time stretching and stretching already. Nothing ever gets done while silth argue. The arguing has to be done before. During, there can be nothing but the project.”
“Just how critical is the time frame?” Bel-Keneke asked. “Is there a time of no return? Of too late? We will be inside this dust cloud for millennia.”
“I do not know exactly, mistress,” Bagnel said. “One thing we will have to do is chart the density of the dust, just so we can estimate such things. I do know that we do not have millennia. Even now, tapping the petroleum in the Ponath will demand the creation of new engineering techniques. The longer we wait, the deeper the ice. And the greater the difficulties. Everywhere.”
“No matter what we do there will be problems,” Bel-Keneke mused. “No matter what else, then, we have to keep muddling ahead. An inch gained now may mean a foot saved later. Any progress will be better than none.”
Kiljar said, “Our first trial will be assembling a convention capable of acting. That chore I will assume myself, being, you will admit, somewhat more tactful than any of my fellow conspirators.”
Marika was startled. Humor? From Kiljar? You never learned everything about anyone.
Bel-Keneke remarked, “If the project takes twenty years instead of eight, so be it. The Reugge are committed.”
Marika turned from one more look at the icy world. “Bagnel, I believe you promised to take me flying. Let’s do it.”
Chapter Thirty-One
I
Marika’s voidship drifted slowly through the clutter and confusion of the leading trojan point. She could make better speed down on the surface of the planet. Here she dared not fly herself, trusting only herself, for there were so many obstacles to navigation. Passage through the site required the combined efforts of a Mistress of the Ship and a Mistress-qualified pilot-passenger working from the axis. Marika could not imagine how the brethren kept track.
Three years had passed. Initial construction was just beginning. The support industry down on the planet’s surface was not yet more than thirty percent of what it would have to be. Ninety percent of the off-planet effort, so far, had been devoted to the leading mirror.
It would be a demonstrator, in a sense. If it went active and did no apparent good, the rest of the project would collapse.
Marika reached with her touch and scanned the confusion. She remained awed by the magnitude of what she had set in motion. Designing it, planning it,
“You were going to look into the possibility of producing it in orbit, in solar-powered factories.”
“I was and I did. There are no adequate titanium ores available anywhere in the system other than right here on the planet. I’m sorry. The girderwork will have to be produced down here and lifted into orbit.”
Kiljar asked, “Who will manage all of this? Consider the politics. It will be an alliance of all the Communities and the brethren, and will represent and include most meth bonds. With that many interests, there is no hope of working in harmony for the time required. Many sisters will not tolerate taking orders from old enemies or from competitors in other orders. None will take directions from brethren, even where brethren are the competent experts. None will work with bonds as though they are equals.”
“Setting this in motion will require a formal convention, as Senior Kiljar has said,” Marika said. “Most of that will have to be fought out there. One possibility would be for the Communities to elect a most senior of most seniors for a fixed term and give her absolute powers and a group of judges to enforce them.”
“The smaller sisterhoods would object strenuously,” Kiljar said.
“Then, perhaps, a continuous convention in which grievances can be aired as they arise, given the understanding that work must go on uninterrupted.”
Bagnel snorted derisively. “No, Marika. I see time stretching and stretching already. Nothing ever gets done while silth argue. The arguing has to be done before. During, there can be nothing but the project.”
“Just how critical is the time frame?” Bel-Keneke asked. “Is there a time of no return? Of too late? We will be inside this dust cloud for millennia.”
“I do not know exactly, mistress,” Bagnel said. “One thing we will have to do is chart the density of the dust, just so we can estimate such things. I do know that we do not have millennia. Even now, tapping the petroleum in the Ponath will demand the creation of new engineering techniques. The longer we wait, the deeper the ice. And the greater the difficulties. Everywhere.”
“No matter what we do there will be problems,” Bel-Keneke mused. “No matter what else, then, we have to keep muddling ahead. An inch gained now may mean a foot saved later. Any progress will be better than none.”
Kiljar said, “Our first trial will be assembling a convention capable of acting. That chore I will assume myself, being, you will admit, somewhat more tactful than any of my fellow conspirators.”
Marika was startled. Humor? From Kiljar? You never learned everything about anyone.
Bel-Keneke remarked, “If the project takes twenty years instead of eight, so be it. The Reugge are committed.”
Marika turned from one more look at the icy world. “Bagnel, I believe you promised to take me flying. Let’s do it.”
Chapter Thirty-One
I
Marika’s voidship drifted slowly through the clutter and confusion of the leading trojan point. She could make better speed down on the surface of the planet. Here she dared not fly herself, trusting only herself, for there were so many obstacles to navigation. Passage through the site required the combined efforts of a Mistress of the Ship and a Mistress-qualified pilot-passenger working from the axis. Marika could not imagine how the brethren kept track.
Three years had passed. Initial construction was just beginning. The support industry down on the planet’s surface was not yet more than thirty percent of what it would have to be. Ninety percent of the off-planet effort, so far, had been devoted to the leading mirror.
It would be a demonstrator, in a sense. If it went active and did no apparent good, the rest of the project would collapse.
Marika reached with her touch and scanned the confusion. She remained awed by the magnitude of what she had set in motion. Designing it, planning it,
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