Tides of Light Read Online Free Page B

released a self-warming
     vial of frozen soil-tenders. They were ugly, slimy things, and the woman had been so badly startled that she dropped the vial.
     Some had inched their way to freedom before the crewwoman raised the alarm. In the rich loam of the gardens, carrying with
     them not only their own genes but also an anthology of lesser mites, the worms wreaked havoc.
    Killeen’s rapping brought two small, squirming weevils wriggling from the tan grain cube. He swept away the tiny things and
     bit into the hard, tasty knot. It was hopeless to try to wipe them out now that they had spread. As well, he still objected
     to harming living things. Machines were their true enemy. If lesser life got out of its rightful place, thanks to human fumbling,
     that was no excuse to strike against the fabric of living beings. To Killeen this was not a moral principle but an obvious
     fact of his universe, of unspoken Family lore.
    Cermo sat uncomfortably in a small chair, cheerfullyjawing on about the woman’s punishment and all the supposed benefits of discipline that would unfold from it.
    He should be the one carrying Ling, not me
, Killeen thought. Or maybe it was easier to take a hard line when final responsibility wasn’t yours.
    He had seen that years before, when Fanny was Cap’n. Her lieutenants had often favored tough measures, but Fanny usually took
     a more moderate, cautious course. She had kept in mind the consequences of decisions, when an error could doom them all.
    It occurred to Killeen that his own hesitant way in those days might have been what made Fanny advance him up the Family’s
     little pyramid of power. Maybe she had mistaken that for a wary sense of proportion. The idea amused him, but he dismissed
     it; Fanny’s judgment had been far better than his, better than that of anyone he had ever known except for his father, Abraham.
     Killeen had enjoyed some success, due mostly to outright luck, but he knew he could never equal her abilities.
    “The Rooks ’n Kings always grumble ’bout a whipping if it’s one
their
folk,” Cermo said. “But they get the point.”
    “Still bitching over how I chose my lieutenants?”
    He had made Cermo and Jocelyn, both Bishops, his immediate underofficers. Lieutenant Shibo was both Chief Executive Officer
     and Pilot. She was the last survivor of Family Knight. Though she had lived with the Rooks, everyone considered her a Bishop
     because she was Killeen’s lover.
    Of such Byzantine issues was policy made. In the difficult days following liftoff from Snowglade, Killeen had tried using
     Rooks and Knights as Lieutenants. They simply didn’t measure up. He had wondered if their time living in a settled village
     had softened them. Still, he saw that his decisionshad not been politically wise. Abraham would have finessed the matter in some inconspicuous way.
    “Yeasay,” Cermo said, “but no worse than usual.”
    “Keep your ear on the deck. Let me know the scuttlebutt.”
    “Sure. There’s some who talk more’n they work.”
    “That’s private Family business.”
    “Could use a touch of the crop, I’d say.”
    Experience told him that it was best to let Cermo go on for a while, exhaust the subject of crew discipline. Still, he wished
     he were breakfasting with Shibo, whose warm, sure silences he found such a comfort. They understood each other without the
     endless rattle of talk.
    “—train ’em, get ’em savvy out the techtalk in ship’s computers.”
    “You think the younger ones’ll do better at it?” Killeen asked.
    “Yeasay. Shibo, she says—”
    Cermo was always coming up with another scheme to get more of the Family trained. The simple fact was that they were hardened
     people and didn’t learn technical matters easily. Families traded knowhow, but their ageold tradition was as craftsmen and
     craftswomen, not as scientists.
    He nodded at Cermo’s enthusiasm, half-listening, his attention focused all the while on the incessant ship