“You believe that maybe they knew more about things like that?” Keene said.
“We can only speculate. Virtually all of the physical evidence was lost, even before Athena. We only have the scraps of what they recorded, handed down in tradition and legend. But cultures all over the world told of a lost Golden Age, long ago, when Man lived in harmony with nature and the gods, strife was unknown, and the world was plentiful. And in all of those tales, Saturn was the god that ruled the skies.”
Keene nodded. Sariena had talked about that too.
Foy went on, “We think Saturn was a benign proto-sun then, pouring out sustenance to give Earth a richness and diversity of life that was never seen or imagined since. But that era was ended by cataclysm in a way we’re still not sure of, and Earth was torn away to enter the fiery domain of the Sun. Its forests and gardens were turned into deserts, its animals died in graveyards by the millions. And for the humans who remained, violence and ruthlessness became the code for survival. It became the only way that Man knew, and all the cultures that reemerged subsequently were rooted in it. Eventually they were unable to conceive how things could be otherwise.”
Foy paused again, but Keene was still struggling with visions that would probably take him days to come to terms with. Finally, Vorse spoke, turning toward Keene as if he had been waiting for the lead up to this moment. “But, as Jon indicated at the beginning, the difference this time is that Kronia exists. We can prevent the same pattern from repeating again. So I can tell you now, Lan, that it has been decided to go back as soon as possible. The earlier we intervene, the better.”
As the meaning of Vorse’s words sank in, Keene’s gaze shifted to Foy, as if for confirmation. “Back to Earth?” Keene said. Foy nodded.
Vorse resumed, “It will soon be common knowledge. Preparations are being commenced. And this is where you come into it, Lan. One of the first needs will be a building program to replace the ships that were lost in the early rescue attempts. But not just with any ships. It needs the right kind of long-range, extended-mission-support ship. And when we get there, we’ll be setting up a full range of seed industries using profab.” Vorse was referring to “programmed fabrication,” a manufacturing technology based on creating objects by building them up from successive deposition layers, controllable to the molecular scale and capable of producing just about anything, given the right raw materials. “Your combined propulsion and MHD power generation system that would provide full support capability immediately is perfect—just what we want.”
Keene made an open-handed gesture. “Well, of course it’s yours. And whatever more I can do to help . . .” He checked himself as the broader possibility struck him as to why they might have brought him here. “Are you saying you might want me to leave the AG project, to move into this program?”
“More than that,” Vorse told him. “Maintaining bases that can operate viably on Earth will be crucial—both for remote outposts in the kind of venture Jon has described, or as centers to escape to if things go wrong out here. Either way, it’s a new design and an untried concept. With what’s at stake, it would be too risky to entrust operating them to anyone with secondhand knowledge. We want you there, as part of the first mission. We want you to go back to Earth.”
Keene slumped back in his chair, too surprised to respond at once.
Foy smiled, as if acknowledging a joke that they had been keeping till the end. “It’s ironic, don’t you think, Dr. Keene, that because of this calamity that has happened, the new era that might take us back to where the Golden Age was leading will begin once again out here, at Saturn? And, answering your earlier question, that could be the ultimate meaning of everything that Kronia stands for.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Eventually, Rakki would challenge Jemmo’s leadership of the clan, and one or the other of them would prevail. It was inevitable. Rakki considered himself to be the one who saw more and thought more. It had been his idea to place a second war party above the caves, which had contributed greatly to the speedy success on that day, and he had been the one to say that they should spare some of the Oldworlders to learn the secret of their weapons. And although Jemmo’s fighting ability was unquestioned, Rakki had accepted the risk of letting himself be taken by the Cavers, which in his estimation made him an equal in valor. To serve indefinitely as Jemmo’s lieutenant and inferior in status would be an insufferable affront to his pride. Jemmo knew it too. Rakki could see it in his eyes as he took in Rakki’s measure when they talked, unconsciously weighing him up as an opponent, and he sensed it in the way Jemmo’s face would harden, setting a margin of distance between them. And Jemmo, for his part, would never feel safe with the menace of a strong and competent potential rival who might move against him at any time. Rakki knew that too. Each was biding time, waiting for an advantageous circumstance. But the moment would come soon.