A Deepness in the Sky (Zones of Thought, #2)

by Vernor Vinge

Certainly, there was little problem in casual conversation. The Balacrean day wasn’t far off the 100Ksec shift “day” the Qeng Ho used. And their year was close enough to 30Msec that most of the year-stem words caused no confusion.

By itself, a star fleet could not build another fleet, or even keep itself indefinitely provisioned with high-tech supplies. It was an old, old problem: to build the most advanced technological products you need an entire civilization—a civilization with all its webs of expertise and layers of capital industry. There were no shortcuts; Humankind had often imagined, but never created, a general assembler.

She roamed through the labs, found the typical signs of his passage, graduate students in various states of puzzlement and sudden, surprised enlightenment. (“Underhill Dazzle” was what the students called it: If you came away puzzled, chances were that Daddy had said something worthwhile. If you were instantly enlightened, it probably meant Daddy had fooled both himself and you with a facile misinsight.)

in pure Qeng Ho Nese, the term “black market” existed, but only to denote “trade you must do in secret because it offends the local Customers.”

Victory didn’t say anything more for a time. And Hrunkner wished that he could walk over and put his arms across her shoulders … but sergeants, even old sergeants, don’t do that to generals.