 At the age of eleven, Martin recognizes
No one, least of all Martin, could dispute that a man's life should be guarded by his kin—but by those who hadn't been born yet? Nobody in the neighborhood was surprised when Martin's mother disappeared and Ninian came to take care of him. As for his father, Martin had never had one. He'd been a war baby, born of one of the tides of soldiers—enemies and allies, both—that had engulfed the country in successive waves and bought or taken the women. "He's dissatisfied with the current social order and killing you is part of an elaborate plan he's formulated to change it. One day the truant officer came to ask why Martin hadn't been coming to school. Martin had to beat up every kid on the block before he could walk a step without hearing "Fancy Pants!" It wasn't that she cared what these people thought of her, for she made no secret of regarding them as little better than animals, but she was shy of attracting attention. Martin was told to call him Uncle Raymond. From time to time, there were other visitors—Uncles Ives and Bartholomew and Olaf, Aunts Ottillie and Grania and Lalage, and many more—all cousins to one another, he was told, all descendants of his. Martin was never left alone for a minute. The adults obviously figured that if a one-car family hired private tutors for their kid, there must be something pretty wrong with him. She was grown up; she was supposed to know better than he did. He had food to eat that he'd never dreamed of before, warm clothes that no one had ever worn before him. Though they were in the house with him, in their minds and in their talk they were living in another world—a world of warmth and peace and plenty where nobody worked, except in the government service or the essential professions. There was no devastation, no war, no unhappiness, none of the concomitants of normal living. It was then that Martin began to realize that either the whole lot of them were insane, or what Ninian had told him at first was the truth. When Martin was sixteen, Raymond took him aside for the talk Ninian had promised five years before. We're virtually the same people ... although it is amazing what a difference two hundred odd years of progress and polish can make in a species, isn't it?" And, on those worlds, it's far cheaper to use native labor than to ship out all that expensive machinery.
 the descendants are immature and ill-equipped to deal in matters of practicality and common sense.
 Conrad is the enemy, and the only way to keep the future generation safe is to fight him to the death if it comes to it.  the descendants are on to something with the way they live in the future.  the descendants are really the instrument of Conrad, and they are there to do his bidding.  the descendants are immature and ill-equipped to deal in matters of practicality and common sense.