In that distant time he had watched the approach of the station, wondering what forces marshaled there. Problems of command had vexed him. He had fretted over whether to assault the huge, silvery construction. He could see the station now, too—a platinum-hard dab of light swimming near the brown crescent of New Bishop.
The name mocked him. The Bishops had found the same ageold trials here. This place had meant more struggle, not a peaceful destination. And losses. Huge, bitter losses.
“Shibo,” he said. “Is this link working?”
The light voice came hesitantly.—I, I, yeasay.—
“Toby?”
—I’m here, Dad.—
Yes, Killeen thought, we’re all here. Together in the only way possible now.
Toby lay in the control vault with complex apparatus enclosing his head. Close comm link brought his voice to Killeen. And Shibo… she was only an Aspect of Toby’s now.
“You sure this won’t do you harm?” Killeen asked.
—No, Dad. I trust her techcraft.—
Through Toby, Shibo had engineered this union. Normally an Aspect could never speak through its host. The term for that was “Aspect storm” and Family would take immediate measures to pull the offending Aspect chips from the host’s neck.
But this was different. Killeen was tapped directly into Toby’s sense of Shibo. The intricate meshing was Shibo’s invention and, used cautiously, might extend the Family’s abilities. She had modified techniques known to Family Pawn, she said. There had been no call for such a trick before, one that verged on Family taboos.
Now it was pure necessity. Only Shibo’s deft command of Argo could save them.
“Any better fix on that Cyber ship?”
Shibo’s wispy Aspect voice replied,—It has executed another dodging maneuver.—
“Damn! What’s Quath say?”
Toby answered,—She’s calibratin’ somethin’. You want, I can tap her in here.—
“Naysay, let her work. Her last estimate said we still got a few minutes before they start firn’.”
—Argo is ready,—Shibo sent reassuringly.
He still had trouble getting used to her voice. It was a fully incorporating Aspect and gave every appearance of a complete operating personality. He and Toby had managed to get Shibo’s body into the recording room of Argo before there was significant damage from oxygen loss. The machines had spoken of potassium balances and digital matching matrices but it had all taken place someplace far from him, under glass.
He knew from sad experience that some people survived grotesquely bloody wounds while others seemed to die of a scratch. That had not helped when Shibo had slipped away from them, her systems simply tapering to zero.
Toby had taken the Aspect, of course. Not simply because Family rules were firmly against carrying a dead lover; that was inviting disaster. No, the overpowering reason had been that Killeen was too shaken to accept Shibo’s Aspect. He had recovered only when her voice spoke to him through Toby. She had chided him and somehow dragged him back into the world. He had clung to her voice.
But it was only a voice. He would never see her again, never touch her silky skin, see the glinting mirth in her eyes—
He made himself stop. It was pointless. Stupid.
Killeen had told himself this a hundred times through the last few days. His emotions were held in check only by the necessity of command. Chaos would not wait for his grief to abate.
He looked back at the crescent of New Bishop. Explosions still flickered there on the nightside. Cyber conflict still raged. Quath’s allies seemed to have the upper hand now, though.
The Family had been fortunate to take only a few dozen casualties there. Only because humans mattered so little had they been able to slip away.
Cermo and Jocelyn had been resourceful and brave in getting the Family off the planet. In the chaos that followed His Supremacy’s death, they had held the Family together and slipped away from the Tribe.
The revelation that His Supremacy was a mech interloper had been enough to shatter the Tribal organization. The remaining Cybers had inflicted more casualties, but they, too, had seemed leaderless.
Jocelyn’s dash and Cermo’s confidence in the face of what seemed utter disaster had extracted Family Bishop with deft timing. Killeen knew well the difficulties of such a maneuver, the most intricate of all tactical feats. He had decorated both officers.
None of their work on the ground would have meant anything without Quath’s help, of course. She had steered the sleek Flitter craft down to the surface, understanding that the Family had to be kept intact.
In the warfare between Cybers a mere band of fleeing humans was now irrelevant. The Flitters had managed to get off again with the Family aboard. No one fired at them.
Some members of the Tribe had rushed toward the shuttles when they saw the landings. They had gathered at the Bishop perimeter and begged to go, too.
Killeen had been adamant. He could not trust anyone from a Tribe already infiltrated by mech-ridden humans. They had taken most of Family Seben and some other ragtag elements of the Tribe. But once aboard, each was carefully inspected. Three proved to have mech inlay riders in their skulls.
They were killed. The decision had been a bitter one, but he had to make it. For a while he tortured himself with the admission that the decision was easier since he had not done the killing himself. But Jocelyn and Cermo had carried out his wishes without hesitation. In many ways, he reflected, they were tougher than he could ever be.
We have word which may reconcile you to the outcome, came Quath’s diffuse message.
The bulky alien was inside the ship, but that did not impede communication between them. Killeen still did not know how this was done and expected he never would.
The alien did not speak in clear sentences. Killeen had to frame the filmy impressions he received into something resembling words before he could fully comprehend. It was like groping through a fog while fitful chill breezes struck you in the face. Each touch brought new comprehension. Equally, each brush left unanswerable questions in its wake. And the mist remained.
Killeen could not follow Quath’s meaning. “How so?”
The Tukar’ramin now prevails in her struggle. Remnant elements flee. The Illuminates of good spirit shall emerge triumphant.
Much of this gave Killeen only a diffuse sense of the vast events playing out around New Bishop. He knew now, after only days of direct communication with Quath, that he would never fathom all the alien tried to convey. Much of Quath’s explanations were unintelligible. The Illuminates were superior intelligences, apparently, but not above resolving disagreement by force. Killeen’s task was to see that their conflicts did not casually and unthinkingly destroy his Family.
“How’s that affect us?”
The Tukar’ramin will guarantee that those of your kind left behind shall be allowed to live.
Killeen sent Quath several questions before he was sure this was what the alien meant. When he finally believed it a weight rose from him. While Family Bishop owed the Tribe a debt for taking them in, that had been canceled by His Supremacy’s betrayal. Still, he was glad that the vestiges of humanity left behind could survive.
“Send my thanks,” Killeen said. The words were inadequate but he knew that Quath sensed his true feelings and would convey them to whatever the Tukar’ramin was.
Hope rose in him. “Does this mean whatever’s followin’ us’ll stop?”
This time the answer was clear:
No. The renegade elements launched this attack ship after us as one of their final measures. It cannot be recalled. When it comes within range it will fire.
“You can deflect whatever it’s got?”
Once, perhaps twice. Not for long.
Quath’s answer came laced with somber forebodings. The alien hoped and feared, but other emotions which Killeen could not name flowed beneath the surface. They seemed more like quick bursts of separate lives, fragments of pos
sibility. He was never sure which facet of Quath he spoke to. Sometimes the alien was extraordinarily patient. Other times he felt as though he were talking to a harried servant while the master of the house was preoccupied elsewhere.
But at least the alien’s nature might slowly unfold. Other riddles would never be answered. Killeen amped his opticals and could just barely make out the rim of New Bishop. The Cyber warrens were huge now, a belt circling far out from the planet. Could such massive mazes truly clasp and tame the energy of a whole sun? The task seemed daunting even for creatures who could suck to cores from worlds.
A still deeper puzzle spun at the rim of New Bishop. Slow movement told him that Skysower churned on. More shadowy mystery.
He would never know if that entity was a natural consequence of life or an engineering construct made by beings of ancient and daunting ability. He could scarcely believe that it carried out such massive purpose while obeying the timeless commands of embedded chemistry and genetics. Such complexity seemed impossible without intelligence. Yet Killeen had to admit that he knew nothing of events on this scale. As a lower-order intelligence, he was surely no good judge of limits.
—That Cyber ship’s fired somethin’ at us,—Shibo’s clipped voice came to him.
Killeen called, “Range and time?”
—Can’t tell. Closing fast.—Her voice still sent a pang through him.
“What’s… what’s it doing?”
—More dodging, looks like.—The Shibo Aspect was crisp and efficient. He had to remember that she had not truly suffered her own death and its aftermath. This Shibo was the woman who last remembered being scooped up by Quath. She would be that person eternally.
“Crew ready at locks?” he asked.
—Yessir,—Jocelyn answered.—Suited up.—
“Check the seals again.”
—Done that already.—
“I said again.”
Jocelyn had been subdued since she and Cermo returned to Argo. Her leadership during the Family’s escape from the Tribe had partly repaired the antagonism between her and Killeen. Once aboard Argo she had mutely accepted Killeen as Cap’n, never asserting herself. Still, Killeen knew that Jocelyn’s ambition had been damped but not destroyed.
A pause. “How’s it going?” he prompted.
—Uh, we found a small problem.—
“What?” he demanded impatiently.
—Seal is broken. We’re patching it again.—
The chagrined note in Jocelyn’s voice gave Killeen a small, pleasurable smile. He had made all crew that could be spared from crucial ship operations work incessantly on the sewage-soaked corridors. The elements of Family Seben and other Tribal remnants had been rebellious, but he had sternly broken their resistance.
Someone had to do the job, after all. Quath had blundered through Argo while it was abandoned. She had found the Legacies but in the process had opened the deck where the plumbing had malfed. Now the mess covered three decks. They had sealed off the offending zone, using vacuum-worthy sealants.
The irksome task had consumed much labor which might have gone into erecting defenses… though it was unlikely that any puny human weapons would count much in the coming encounter. Argo had nothing beyond simple shields.
The approaching Cyber missiles might be fooled by Quath at first, but she was sure they were intelligent weapons. That meant each incoming missile learned from observing the one before it. If Quath failed…
Killeen tried to catch a glimpse of the approaching enemy. “Shibo! Let me have the grid.”
Her quick response sent a crosshatched picture into his left eye. Three winking red dots trailed Argo, swelling visibly.
Killeen went back to normal sight. He had chosen to meet their fate while out here, where he could see and judge with his own eyes. Electronic helpers were all very fine, but some sense of human dignity demanded that he use his own capabilities now. A Cap’n should judge from his own experience.
And being outside might be safer if things went badly. He had officers posted at each lock to evacuate crew in pressure suits if Argo’s hull split. How they could survive for long without a functioning ship Killeen could not imagine, but at least such preparations gave them all something to do before the battle. Anything was better for the crew than agonized waiting.
Which was, he reminded himself, just what he was doing. He stopped fretting and walked along the gently curving hull. Argo was headed out from the waning sun. Its lessened light made the ivory washes of molecular clouds seem nearby. They bore now toward the seething disk of the Eater itself.
—They’re coming fast,—Shibo sent.
“Quath?”
We are acting.
Killeen held his breath. Suddenly the leading missile veered to the side. It wobbled and then streaked away.
We have deceived the first.
As Quath spoke, the missile burst silently into a crimson ball.
“Shibo?”
—Our shields are stopping the UV pulses.—
“Good.”
But those were trivial threats. The main purpose of the missiles was simple: to crack Argo’s hull.
The two remaining missiles had swollen to red disks in Shibo’s grid.
We are tumbling the second.
One of the disks bobbed randomly. Killeen watched it explode into another soundless crimson globe.
We attempt the third.
“Are there others behind these?”
Not yet.
Then there was still a chance.
We are… difficulty… difficulty…
For the first time Quath’s tone was streaked with warring impressions. Killeen had the sensation of watching multiple minds clamor and struggle to a single purpose. Before he could comprehend this he felt a heavy, drumroll urgency.
We… fail.
Death grew behind them. Killeen could see the sleek form now.
“Quath! Isn’t there—”
No. It resists my deceptions.
Killeen stared at the rapidly growing dot. In the sharp clarity of vacuum he felt as though he could almost reach out and slap it away. Or throw something at it. In space even insubstantial things could—
The idea was so simple it startled him.
“Jocelyn! Cermo!”
—Yeasay!—
“Release! Open the locks!”
—Yessir!—they answered together.
Clouds spurted from three openings in Argo’s hull. On signal the maintenance locks had popped open in the polluted zone of the ship. Now the air rushed out, carrying foul fluids with it. Anything left within quickly boiled away into hard vacuum.
Sunlight caught the expanding clouds. Suddenly they became huge, spreading foils. Billowing yellow wings seemed to twist and fan, as though Argo glided forward by beating against utter vacuum. Expanding gossamer veils trailed behind as the ship steadily accelerated away.
Killeen stood uphull from the locks and so was spared the spray. For long moments the fluids burst into sunlight. Gusts came forth. Each added more radiance to the fluttering wake.
“Shibo! Side vector!”
Argo lurched. Shibo had fired the jets on one side. The ship coasted sidewise.
Now Killeen could not see the approaching enemy. The luminous fog obscured everything. He hoped that the missile saw the same wreathed confusion.
“Quath?”
Approaching hard. Accelerating.
“Fire main engine!”
To stay on the hull Killeen had to catch himself against a pipe. Argo accelerated strongly.
Glory burst behind them. The plasma drive struck the wake cloud. The agitated ions immediately provoked answering radiation from the gas. Like a searchlight playing through clotted fog, the exhaust brilliantly lit a huge irregular blob of mist.
Killeen held on against the rising thrust. He had done all he could. Now—
A fireball flared nearby. It lit the billowing fog further, casting shock waves of luminescence.
�
��Missed!” he cried.
—Hot damn!—Cermo shouted.
Shibo laughed. Her tinkling voice rang in his ears.
—Let ’em eat shit!—Cermo yelled.
“And so they have,” Killeen said grimly. “Shibo?”
—No damage reports.—
“It went off where it thought we were. Couldn’t find its way through all our crap.”
Laughter pealed through the comm. Killeen could not help himself; he joined in.
“Quath?”
We detect no further missiles. Perhaps this deception of yours has worked. The radiant cloud is emitting signature frequencies typical of heated organic compounds.
“No surprise,” Killeen said. “That’s what it is.”
However, the pursuing vessel will interpret such emissions as evidence of a ruptured hull. A clever ruse.
“Think they’ll break off followin’ us?”
It seems so.
“You sure these are the last enemy Cybers?”
We have been assured by the Tukar’ramin. Our victory is now complete. The rightful Illuminates now prevail.
“Damn glad to hear it.” Killeen was still rankled to think that his Family had gone through so much because of a factional dispute among distant beings he would never know.
He let the spike of irritation pass. It was irrational to harbor resentments against beings whose motivations and meanings were so alien. He thought he caught glimpses of Quath, but he was sure the deeper essence eluded him. Who could have guessed, for example, that the Legacies aboard Argo would mean something to a Cyber—when simple spoken sentences often did not? The Illuminates had commanded that they be ferried up from New Bishop and returned to Argo. That had been done just as Argo cast off from the station. Cyber craft had tried to destroy the Flitter carrying the Legacies and the Illuminates had expended ship after ship defending it.
Why?
Killeen shook his head.
Standing beneath the roiling sky of incandescent majesty soothed his spirits. He walked the hull as their radiant wake dispersed. A few more moments out here would settle him and make the coming tasks of Cap’ncy easier.
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