Hidden Empire - Kevin J. Anderson [123]
He surfaced, spluttering, and splashed new-blond hair out of his eyes. He stroked gently toward the edge of the pool, still with little grace, but growing competence. Raymond had promised himself that he would keep practicing until he became an excellent swimmer. Basil Wenceslas and his other benevolent captors were pleased that he wanted to learn new things and expand his knowledge, though they had given him explicit curricula to which he must devote most of his time.
OX stood like a metal statue at the side of the pool. He held a towel, though the compy instructor saw no need for his student to emerge from the pool before he continued his lecture. "I have several lessons prepared, young Peter. Shall we begin?"
By now, Raymond had stopped being bothered by the false name. Chairman Wenceslas had given him so many benefits and rewards just for playacting the son of King Frederick that he decided to put up with it. It didn't really make any difference. If that was all Raymond was required to do, then it was certainly a bargain.
Raymond treaded water. "I'm listening, OX." Water continued to trickle out of the overhead slide, and bubbles foamed from thermal vents at the bottom of the faux volcanic floor of the sea bath. "Hey, why don't you tell me about yourself? You're one of the oldest compies I've ever seen. That model was discontinued, oh what, ten years ago?"
"Forty-three years ago, young Peter. Yes, I am old. I was one of the first dedicated compies. I was created to be placed aboard the first generation ship, the Peary."
Raymond splashed backward, barely able to believe. He knew parts of the history, had studied it in school, but now pushed back, stroking through the warm salty-smelling water trying to calculate. "That's more than three centuries ago."
"Yes, three hundred and twenty-eight years," OX said. "The long voyages of the generation ships were the reason compies were originally created. Not just to be companions and mechanical pets for people on Earth, but to serve their descendants aboard the generation ships. My memory files are old but still quite clear. I remember the day the Peary launched. I was onboard."
"I know that now, OX," Raymond said.
"The Peary held two hundred families and all the resources they would need to establish a self-sufficient colony. Engineers built the generation ships in the asteroid belt and then shuttled all the passengers onto the vessels. The captain let me stand on the bridge as they launched. Even at full acceleration, it took us nine months just to leave the Earth's solar system. Everyone aboard was certain they would never see other humans again."
Raymond swam gently across the pool so as not to make too much background noise, otherwise the Teacher would scold him, repeat himself, or raise the volume of his voice. "Crimson rain, OX, it's hard to believe people would be willing to drop everything and leave their homes behind with no realistic hope of ever finding a better place."
"Those were desperate times," OX said. "The ships were slow and huge—colonies themselves, in effect, with every supply needed to support all passengers and their descendants for centuries. We compies were placed onboard to provide stability and long-term memories during such extended voyages. Thus, it was vitally important that we learned how to teach."
"Like baby-sitters that never went away," Raymond said. He playfully splashed OX, but the compy was not the least bit ruffled.
"We were a stabilizing influence. Over such a long voyage, no one expected that the passengers would preserve all the details of human civilization, that they would remember Earth culture and laws and morals. Compies helped guide the children, and then their children, and then their children. The information had to be preserved, the dream kept alive. When the generation ships finally arrived at a suitable planet, we did not want their passengers to be feral primitives."
"Then the Ildirans