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quest for skip-worthy stones and settling for a pocketful of gravel. He spent the next hour pitching gravel into the pond, not even trying to skip them because they always sank after the first bounce. Meewee had a strong throwing arm, but it was too short to get much distance. Nevertheless, despite everything, Meewee lost himself in the activity.
    His reverie was interrupted by a message from his calendar.
    “I thought I told you to hold my calls,” he said with a huff of annoyance. “This had better be important.”
    The calendar wisely made no reply.
    Meewee sighed and brushed his dirty hands on his scarlet and vermilion jumpsuit. “Proceed.”
    Aria flight control at Mezzoluna reports that due to local conditions launch of advance ships has been moved forward.
    “That news could have waited until I returned to the office.” He turned and began to climb the rocky apron to the grassy bank. “Anything else?”
    New launch time is 14:50 today
.
    “Today? The launch is today?”
    Yes, at 14:50 local time
.
    “What time is it now?”
    14:45.
    Meewee swore and began to jog up the bank to the cart, but he knew he would never make it back to the office in five minutes. “Arrow,” he said, addressing his mentar, “you’ll have to project the launch here.”
    The cart at the top of the bank lurched forward half a meter in order to turn away from the sun. Then a patch of eastern sky above Meewee’s head darkened until it was pitch-black and spangled with stars. A voice was counting down the seconds, and Meewee craned his neck to stare at the far reaches of space projected above him. He couldn’t distinguish the launch facility from the starry background. The view was from the Aria space yards at Mezzoluna several tens of thousands of kilometers from the actual blast site. At the end of the countdown there was a beat, and then the star field disappeared in a blossoming ball of nuclear fire. Meewee shut his eyes and turned away, dazzled. When he could see again he searched the star field. “Well?” he said. “Was it successful?”
    Arrow said,
Shipboard telemetry won’t resume for several minutes.
    Of course not, even robotic ships needed time to recover from a nuclear blast. These ships carried a complete set of repair bots and nanofabs to constantly rebuild themselves during their centuries-long journey. They were designed to arrive at their destination star systems at least two hundred years before their assigned Oships. They would spend the time gained preparing the way for the colonists: scouting target planets, performing terraforming tasks, laying infrastructure, constructing cities so that when the Oships arrived and the colonists were roused from their millennial slumber, whole, viable new worlds awaited them, ready to inhabit.
    A new, faint star appeared in the holoscape above Meewee. “Is that—?” he said, and another appeared, and a third and fourth. The robotic ships that had come through the atomic boost were firing their main chemical rockets, to correct their course and to boost their speed even more.
    Aria launch control counted the ships as they reported in. Six, seven, fourteen ships. Twenty, twenty-eight, fifty, seventy-six. Meewee cheered, literally jumping up and down on the bank of the fishpond. Seventy-six out of a possible two hundred advance ships reported in. It was more than he had been told to expect. The launch was a solid success!
    “Arrow, name the Oships they belong to.”
    The
Garden Chernobyl—
ten advance ships under way. The
Garden Hybris—
eight. The
Garden Kiev—
twenty-four advance ships.
    The
Kiev
—excellent! thought Meewee. The
Kiev
was the first Oship in the launch order. Its departure was only months away.
    The
King Jesus—
nineteen advance ships under way
, Arrow continued.
The
Garden of Hope—
fifteen.
    Excellent, excellent, excellent—it was all excellent. It was superlative. Meewee felt like celebrating. If only Wee Hunk were still around. How he missed the