Humanity's Hold 4053.11.06 CE

22.2 megaseconds since the catastrophe

Gianetta Carson stared at the ring in the palm of her right hand with such a mixture of emotions that she was in danger of losing her breakfast. That would have been particularly unfortunate, given that her great-uncle's long illness and final passing had left her so stressed as to barely be able to eat in the first place. Breakfast had been two slices of toast with fig jam, and she was pretty sure she had only managed to get through one of them before the news of Uncle Neal's passing reached her.

On paper, Neal Carson had just been another citizen of Humanity's Hold. In practice, he'd been one of the nine councilors who governed—or, more officially, guided—true humanity. She had always been aware of his somewhat elevated status, that he was involved deeply in the plans that were going to take humanity back to the stars. She didn't really know much about those plans. Nobody did outside the council and the citizens directly involved with the project.

She had questioned him closely at one point, taking full advantage of being quite his favorite out of her generation of the family. Why so secret? What did it mean to go back to the stars after so long underground? Why did humanity need the stars, anyway?

He had answered some, but not all. The secrecy, he admitted, was because not everyone would necessarily approve of the measures being taken for their best interests. She had been full of the Hold's propaganda at the time, that being one of the functions of education after all, and found that statement odd. He had opened up to her a bit more, then, telling her what he said most adults already knew, whether or not they'd ever heard it said so plainly. The council was entrusted with humanity's best interests, he'd said, so that ordinary citizens could go about their business without having to carry the weight of it.

That had been the first of many conversations in which he'd confided to her some of the inner workings of the Hold. He had told her, for example, that the caverns that made up the Hold had always been on the verge of overcrowding. Strict control over the centuries had kept things in bounds, until he had hit upon a better solution. At first, he had thought they could build habitats on the surface, ruined as it was, but then, he thought, why stop there? Before the calamity that rendered Earth uninhabitable, humanity had learned the trick of reaching the stars. The depth of Sol's well was daunting, but once out on the edge, one could go far.

Indeed, at one time, humanity had gone far. In doing so, however, they had become alien. Worse, they had become treacherous. When Earth needed them, they turned their backs.

He'd told her these things, and many more that were not necessarily taught in school. Everything but what the grand plan really entailed. It wasn't until much later than she began to suspect why he'd told her so much. Literally only now, with the ring in her hand, did she knew for certain.

Her younger, more idealistic self, would have blanched at the naked and literal nepotism involved in the selection. But she had to admit, there had been hints all along. He'd told her it was not unknown for councilors to choose their kin to succeed them. His good friend Morris, whom she also thought of as a kind of uncle, had been one such.

The council did have a say. She could show up with the ring, and they could, should six of the remaining eight so vote, reject Carson's choice. But for now, for right now, she was the Third Seat Councilor Designate.

Or she would be once she took the ring to her uncle's—to her—office and presented herself and the ring to the system there.

And then, she would know, she realized. All of it. At last.

She almost leapt up and did that, right away. But no, she realized. That was not proper. More than that, it was a distraction. She had loved her uncle. As his successor in this busy time, she would not have a large window of opportunity to mourn him. She needed to go to the hospital, talk to her great aunt, her uncle, her father, her sisters and cousins and all the rest. She had to say goodbye to him formally, as she already had in person. She needed to do this right, both because his memory deserved it, and because she did not want to be seen as clutching too eagerly at his power.

So, first to the hospital, or wherever else the family were gathering. Then, it would probably fall to her to call Uncle Morris, currently visiting the Hold Above, both to tell him the news and show him the ring. Not that she expected him to be surprised. If Uncle Neal had chosen her, he could not have failed to lay the groundwork with his fellow councilors first. He'd been too meticulous for that.

Then, and only then, to the office, even if it meant a late night, to make herself known to the system—and at last to find out what her uncles had not told her.