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The grownups are all very busy, but the children are all bored.
Bored or having nightmares. But Tasárinon was not on a ship and did not see the people dying and has only heard it thirdhand and can't exactly have nightmares about the look in his mother's eyes - well, he probably could, but he hasn't - so he's bored, and he is drawing on the floor. It is an absurdly intricate drawing. He has been embellishing it for three days.
Cool here's a bunch that don't rely on lots of ingame language. Have fun. If you need anything write it up and title it 'from the family on the planetoid'.
And then he flies away to conduct experiments. Test #1: who wrote the parley letter?
...that's weird.
Okay, suppose it's a Maia, maybe those are nonphysical entities, but they have bodies sometimes, right, what if he tries to make the body of the author.
Cam takes some pictures of it, then boots it into space and interpolates it. Okay, now: aliens?
...he tries progressively larger intervals of "written work produced during", expands to "recorded work" - nope.
Okay. FTL experiments.
The King conveniently has them listed by experiment contents, expected result, interesting failure, success. All but one get the expected result. One gets the outcome he called 'interesting failure'.
Cam takes dutiful notes, and then he descends towards Endorë. When he's within range of the phone satellites he texts Fëanáro his results, encrypted by one-time pad.
Won't be ten years, is the response, but won't be less than two and I'll have to hand everything else off. If you want to come in my son Tyelcormo wants to pitch you on a non-escalatory air force, don't know the details but do trust him.
"Hi. I don't think we've actually met, I was coordinating flying these things and Maitimo's being possessive. This -" he indicates a computer model - "is the fighters that the Federated Falas are using, and - "this is the same thing but with three main improvements, those being that it can take off from the surface of the water, that it's damn near impossible for the kind of rocketry they're using to hurt the pilot, and that if the pilot wants they can fireball it in midair in a way the chips won't survive. Can't carry any more, can't fly any faster, not any more maneuverable, will take hits just as satisfyingly if they wouldn't hit the pilot. We want to go help them with their airstrikes problem."
"Halls no, going down over enemy territory seems super bad and anyway the Falathrim aren't doing it so it might count as an escalation. Have you noticed what an annoying fucking constraint that is, by the way? Defensively."
"Three hundred, floating topside. We're also going to need you to refuel them, we're running them on gasoline and I haven't the faintest idea how gasoline's refined, we're a few centuries past using it for anything in Valinor..."
"I can give you a tankerful but it'll be a tempting target, explodes like crazy. Brithombar uses gasoline, though, they're rationing it but will know how to refine it."
"Then just fueled planes for now; after we've nibbled at their enemy for a bit we can ask them for a science lesson. Someone sufficiently suicidal could take one of those things all the way to Angband, and I'm sort of curious at what point he'd bring out the big guns, but we'll keep them in local borders."
"Lovely. Thank you. Building factories and mining facilities was going to be super tedious."
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