Chaper 642 A Difficult Problem...  

Ayaka took a moment to compose herself, then squared her shoulders and faced Birch. “But right now we have more pressing matters to consider. We’ll take you up on your gracious offer of a memorial in the future, but we need to know more about your children, and the children of your compatriots,” she said. “How mature, mentally and emotionally speaking, will they be when they’re... born?”

“That is an excellent question, Captain. We discussed it among ourselves and decided that it wouldn’t be cost-effective, in terms of mana expenditure, to raise them to the maturity level of Joon-ho when they’re first born. But that was only a contributing factor to the eventual decision.... What was more important was that we learned from him that individuals that aren’t part of a collective, as we are, are shaped and formed by their experiences.

“So if we were to artificially implant Joon-ho’s experiences into our children, they would be born with the same inspirations, hopes, and plans that he has within him based on his own life experience. And that, we thought, would be unbefitting of their unique individuality, an individuality that we hope to foster in them.”

Ayaka nodded in understanding. She wholeheartedly agreed, and the thought of billions of Terrible Teenagers running amok sent a chill shivering down her spine. One Joon-ho was more than enough, and perhaps half a Joon-ho too much.

“How do you plan on raising them, Lady Birch?” she asked.

Birch’s head rotated a hundred and eighty degrees and she gazed off into the distance as though she could see through the root construct that compromised the outer walls of the castle she had created out of what was essentially an extremely sturdy wicker. “We were actually hoping that you could help us with that, Captain,” she finally said after a moment.

The smile on Boris’ face faltered as he was reminded that Birch was still fundamentally alien; no human could possibly swivel, twist, and turn their heads as she did out of hand.

“We can teach you developmental psychology if you like, and childrearing practices... at least, we can teach you HUMAN childrearing practices. I’m not sure how well they would apply to nonhuman species, though,” Ayaka said, then turned to Boris. “What do you think?”

“Da. It’s likely that our childrearing practices and developmental psychology would only have limited applicability to the newborns,” he said, resting his elbow in his hand and rubbing his chin with his thumb. Ayaka concealed a wince; Boris had apparently forgotten that he was still wearing a SLEEK suit and that chin rub must have stung like a bitch.

But the gregarious Russian gave no sign as he continued, “We would need to study one in their development and generate a new field of developmental psychology....” He trailed off, mumbling incoherently to himself as he considered the creation of an entirely new field of psychology and the ramifications of it. As far as anyone knew, this was the first interaction humanity had ever had with an alien species, so his name would join the other greats of psychology in recorded history!

...If, that is, he was successful. Developing an entirely new school of thought to the point that it could be applied to billions of newborns—adult bodies or not—would be extremely difficult. And that difficulty would be raised to hell mode if he had to do it in the remaining time before the population was born. ‘Dammit!’ he thought. “Why couldn’t they have staggered the births, or reserved some of them? Or even just not birth so fucking many of them so they came out at least able to speak and use rudimentary tools!’

“Well, Boris?” Ayaka asked.

“Oh? Ah! Ahem... da. It’s possible, but so is Proxima Centauri going supernova tomorrow. There’s just not enough time to come up with a developmental plan for a species that doesn’t even exist yet,” he said.

“But it’s theoretically possible? What about time dilation?” “We would need a control group and enough time dilation to watch them develop completely without interference to get a baseline, then repeat the process through a generational study with multiple test groups....” Boris devolved into highly technical psychological terms and Ayaka’s mind fuzzed out a bit.

“Give me a moment to discuss the situation with the fleet, please, Lady Birch. Right now it’s looking like we simply don’t have enough time for the first generation, but there may be another possibility,” she said, turning to Birch.

“Another possibility, Captain Takahashi?” Birch asked, spinning her head back around to face the erstwhile diplomat.

“Yes, it’s possible that, if you can delay their birth for say... a week, perhaps two, we can come up with a stopgap measure.”

“What is a week?” Birch tilted her head in confusion. “A week is seven days... oh. Oh! Right, your concept of time differs from ours. A week would be....” She turned to Joon-ho with an expectant expression on her face.

“Almost a full turning around your sun, Birch,” he added. “Better to say three full turnings, tops. That would be four weeks, give or take, in Earth time.”

Ayaka nodded and her eyes glazed over as she “spoke” to the admiral on the Proxima. A few minutes later, she said, “Yes, three turnings would be barely enough time for what I have in mind. We can build a massive supercluster that allows extreme time dilation and build enough VR pods to grant your children access to it, where they would be raised in a freeform environment that allows for maximum possibility in their development. Would that suffice, Lady Birch?”

“That would be splendid, Captain Takahashi,” Birch said with a smile. Though, on her alien face that lacked lips, her smile looked more like a thin-lipped grimace. But that was just one of the quirks of xenodiplomacy; body language, in particular, would always remain different between different species.

“So what would you offer in exchange?” Ayaka asked.

“Well, I’m not sure we really have anything to offer,” Birch said.

“What about joining the empire?” George interjected.

Birch turned to him, her face a mask. “Joining the empire? We will not promise anything on our children’s behalf, nor will we attempt to guide, or force, them into a decision of their own.”

“What about if the decision was left up to them?” he continued.

“That would be... acceptable, Mr. Stefanopolous. We understand that diplomacy requires negotiation, and negotiation is a matter of give and take. But there are some things we will never compromise on, and interfering in our children’s lives is one of those things.”

“Excellent!” he exclaimed. “Then let’s begin the negotiations, shall we?” George, now in his negotiator mode, was far less dour and much more willing to speak in complete sentences.