by Дэн Симмонс
“Its radar has begun tracking us,” said Patek Georg when they were six hundred thousand klicks away and decelerating nicely. “Passive radar. No weapons acquisition. It doesn’t seem to be probing us with anything except simple radar. It will have no idea if life-forms are aboard our probe or not.”
Dem Lia nodded. “Saigyô,” she said softly, “at two hundred thousand klicks, please bring our coordinates around so that we will be on intercept course with the thing.” The chubby monk nodded.
Somewhat later, the probe’s thrusters and main engines changed tune, the starfield rotated, and the image of the huge machine filled the main window. The view was magnified as if they were only five hundred klicks from the spacecraft. The thing was indescribably ungainly, built only for vacuum, fronted with metal teeth and rotating blades built into mandible-like housings, the rest looking like the wreckage of an old space habitat that had been mindlessly added onto for millennium after millennium and then covered with warts, wattles, bulbous sacs, tumors, and filaments.
“Distance, one hundred eighty-three thousand klicks and closing,” said Patek Georg.
“Look how blackened it is,” whispered Den Soa.
“And worn,” radioed Far Rider. “None of our people have ever seen it from this close. Look at the layers of cratering through the heavy carbon deposits. It is like an ancient, black moon that has been struck again and again by tiny meteorites.”
“Repaired, though,” commented the Chief Branchman gruffly. “It operates.”
“Distance one hundred twenty thousand klicks and closing,” said Patek Georg. “Search radar has just been joined by acquisition radar.”
“Defensive measures?” said Dem Lia, her voice quiet.
Saigyô answered. “Class-twelve field in place and infinitely redundant. CPB deflectors activated. Hyperkinetic countermissiles ready. Plasma shields on maximum. Countermissiles armed and under positive control.” This meant simply that both Dem Lia and Patek Georg would have to give the command to launch them, or—if the human passengers were killed—Saigyô would do so.
“Distance one hundred five thousand klicks and closing,” said Patek Georg. “Relative delta-v dropping to one hundred meters per second. Three more acquisition radars have locked on.”
“Any other transmissions?” asked Dem Lia, her voice tight.
“Negative,” said Den Soa at her virtual console. “The machine seems blind and dumb except for the primitive radar. Absolutely no signs of life aboard. Internal communications show that it has… intelligence… but not true AI. Computers more likely. Many series of physical computers.”
“Physical computers!” said Dem Lia, shocked. “You mean silicon… chips… stone axe-level technology?”
“Or just above,” confirmed Den Soa at her console. “We’re picking up magnetic bubble-memory readings, but nothing higher.”
“One hundred thousand klicks…” began Patek Georg, and then interrupted himself. “The machine is firing on us.”
The outer containment fields flashed for less than a second.
“A dozen CPB’s and two crude laser lances,” said Patek Georg from his virreal point of view. “Very weak. A class-one field could have countered them easily.”
The containment field flickered again.
“Same combination,” reported Patek. “Slightly lower energy settings.”
Another flicker.
“Lower settings again,” said Patek. “I think it’s giving us all it’s got and using up its power doing it. Almost certainly just a meteor defense.”
“Let’s not get overconfident,” said Dem Lia. “But let’s see all of its defenses.”
Den Soa looked shocked. “You’re going to attack it?”
“We’re going to see if we can attack it,” said Dem Lia. “Patek, Saigyô, please target one lance on the top corner of that protuberance there…” She pointed her laser stylus at a blackened, cratered, fin-shaped projection that might have been a radiator two klicks high. “…and one hyperkinetic missile…”
“Commander!” protested Den Soa.
Dem Lia looked at the younger woman and raised her finger to her lips. “One hyperkinetic with plasma warhead removed, targeted at the front lower leading edge of the machine, right where the lip of that aperture is.”
Patek Georg repeated the command to the AI. Actual target coordinates were displayed and confirmed.
The CPB struck almost instantly, vaporizing a seventy-meter hole in the radiator fin.
“It raised a class-point-six field,” reported Patek Georg. “That seems to be its top limit of defense.”
The hyperkinetic missile penetrated the containment field like a bullet through butter and struck an instant later, blasting through sixty meters of blackened metal and tearing out through the front feeding-orifice of the harvesting machine. Everyone aboard watched the silent impact and the almost mesmerizing tumble of vaporized metal expanding away from the impact site and the spray of debris from the exit wound. The huge machine did not respond.
“If we had left the warhead on,” murmured Dem Lia, “and aimed for its belly, we would have a thousand kilometers of exploding harvest machine right now.”
Chief Branchman Keel Redt leaned forward in his couch. Despite the one-tenth g field, all of the couches had restraint systems. His was activated now.
“Please,” said the Ouster, struggling slightly against the harnesses and airbags. “Kill it now. Stop it now.”
Dem Lia shifted to look at the two Ousters and the Templar. “Not yet,” she said. “First we have to return to the Helix.”
“We will lose more valuable time,” broadcast Far Rider, his tone unreadable.
“Yes,” said Dem Lia. “But we still have more than six standard days before it begins harvesting.”
The probe accelerated away from the blackened, cratered, and newly scarred monster.
“You will not destroy it, then?” demanded the Chief Branchman as the probe hurried back to the Helix.
“Not now,” responded Dem Lia. “It might still be serving a purpose for the race that built it.”
The young Templar seemed to be close to tears. “Yet your own instruments—far more sophisticated than our telescopes—told you that there are no worlds in the red giant system.”
Dem Lia nodded. “Yet you yourselves have mentioned the possibility of space habitats, can cities, hollowed-out asteroids… our survey was neither careful nor complete. Our ship was intent upon entering your star system with maximum safety, not carrying out a careful survey of the red giant system.”
“For such a small probability,” said the Chief Branchman Ouster in a flat, hard voice, “you are willing to risk so many of our people?”
Saigyô’s voice whispered quietly in Dem Lia’s subaudio circuit. “The AI’s have been analyzing scenarios of several million Ousters using their solar wings in a concentrated attack on the Helix.” Dem Lia waited, still looking at the Chief Branchman.
“The ship could defeat them,” finished the AI, “but there is some real probability of damage.”
To the Chief Branchman, Dem Lia said, “We’re going to take the Helix to the red giant system. The three of you are welcome to accompany us.”
“How long will the round trip last?” demanded Far Rider.
Dem Lia looked to Saigyô. “Nine days under maximum fusion boost,” said the AI. “And that would be a powered perihelion maneuver with no time to linger in the system to search every asteroid or debris field for life-forms.”
The two Ousters were shaking their heads. Reta Kasteen drew her hood lower, covering her eyes.
“There’s another possibility,” said Dem Lia. To Saigyô, she pointed toward the Helix, now filling the main viewscreen. Thousands of energy-winged Ousters parted as the probe decelerated gently through the ship’s containment field and aligned itself for docking.
They gathered in the solarium to decide. All ten of the humans—Den Soa’s wife and husband had been invited to join in th
e vote but had decided to stay below in the crew’s quarters—all five of the AIs, and the three representatives of the forest-ring people. Far Rider’s tightbeam continued to carry the video and audio to the three hundred thousand nearby Ousters and the billions waiting on the great curve of tree ring beyond.
“Here is the situation,” said Dem Lia. The silence in the solarium was very thick. “You know that the Helix, our ship, contains an Aenean-modified Hawking drive. Our faster-than-light passage does harm the fabric of the Void Which Binds, but thousands of times less than the old Hegemony or Pax ships. The Aeneans allowed us this voyage.” The short woman with the green band around her turban paused and looked at both Ousters and the Templar woman before continuing. “We could reach the red giant system in…”
“Four hours to spin up to relativistic velocities, then the jump,” said Res Sandre. “About six hours to decelerate into the red giant system. Two days to investigate for life. Same ten-hour return time.”
“Which, even with some delays, would bring the Helix back almost two days before the Destroyer begins its harvesting. If there is no life in the red-giant system, we will use the probe to destroy the robot harvester.”
“But…” said Chief Branchman Keel Redt with an all-too-human ironic smile. His face was grim.
“But it is too dangerous to use the Hawking drive in such a tight binary system,” said Dem Lia, voice level. “Such short-distance jumps are incredibly tricky anyway, but given the gas and debris the red giant is pouring out…”
“You are correct. It would be folly.” It was Far Rider broadcasting on his radio band. “My clan has passed down the engineering from generation to generation. No commander of any Ouster seedship would make a jump in this binary system.”
True Voice of the Tree Reta Kasteen was looking from face to face. “But you have these powerful fusion engines…”
Dem Lia nodded. “Basho, how long to survey the red-giant system using maximum thrust with our fusion engines?”
“Three and one-half days transit time to the other system,” said the hollow-cheeked AI. “Two days to investigate. Three and one-half days back.”
“There is no way we could shorten that?” said Oam Rai, the yellow. “Cut safety margins? Drive the fusion engines harder?”
Saigyô answered. “The nine-day round-trip is posited upon ignoring all safety margins and driving the fusion engines at one hundred twelve percent of their capacity.” He sadly shook his bald head. “No, it cannot be done.”
“But the Hawking drive…” said Dem Lia, and everyone in the room appeared to cease breathing except for Far Rider, who had never been breathing in the traditional sense. The appointed Spectrum Helix commander turned to the AIs. “What are the probabilities of disaster if we try this?”
Lady Murasaki stepped forward. “Both translations—into and out of Hawking space—will be far too close to the binary system’s Roche lobe. We estimate probability of total destruction of the Helix at two percent, of damage to some aspect of ship’s systems at eight percent, and specifically damage to the pod life-support network at six percent.”
Dem Lia looked at the Ousters and the Templar. “A six percent chance of losing hundreds—thousands—of our sleeping relatives and friends. Those we have sworn to protect until arrival at our destination. A two percent chance that our entire culture will die in the attempt.”
Far Rider nodded sadly. “I do not know what wonders your Aenean friends have added to your equipment,” he broadcast, “but I would find those figures understated. It is an impossible binary system for a Hawking drive jump.”
Silence stretched. Finally Dem Lia said, “Our options are to destroy the harvesting machine for you without knowing if there is life—perhaps an entire species—depending upon it in the red giant system, however improbable. And we cannot do that. Our moral code prevents it.”
Reta Kasteen’s voice was very small. “We understand.”
Dem Lia continued, “We could travel by conventional means and survey the system. This means you will have to suffer the ravages of this Destroyer a final time, but if there is no life in the red giant system, we will destroy the machine when we return on fusion drive.”
“Little comfort to the thousands or millions who will lose their homes during this final visit of the Destroyer,” said Chief Branchman Keel Redt.
“No comfort at all,” agreed Dem Lia.
Far Rider stood to his full four-meter height, floating slightly in the one-tenth gravity. “This is not your problem,” he broadcast. “There is no reason for you to risk any of your people. We thank you for considering…”
Dem Lia raised a hand to stop him in mid-broadcast. “We’re going to vote now. We’re voting whether to jump to the red giant system via Hawking drive and get back here before your Destroyer begins destroying. If there is an alien race over there, perhaps we can communicate in the two days we will have in-system. Perhaps they can reprogram their machine. We have all agreed that the odds against it accidentally 'eating' your seedship on its first pass after you landed are infinitesimal. The fact that it constantly harvests areas on which you’ve colonized—on a tree ring with the surface area equal to half a million Hyperions—suggests that it is programmed to do so, as if eliminating abnormal growths or pests.”
The three diplomats nodded.
“When we vote,” said Dem Lia, “the decision will have to be unanimous. One 'no' vote means that we will not use the Hawking drive.”
Saigyô had been sitting cross-legged on the table, but now he moved next to the other four AIs who were standing. “Just for the record,” said the fat little monk, “the AI’s have voted five to zero against attempting a Hawking drive maneuver.”
Dem Lia nodded. “Noted,” she said. “But just for the record, for this sort of decision, the AIs’ vote does not count. Only the Amoiete Spectrum Helix people or their representatives can determine their own fate.” She turned back to the other nine humans. “To use the Hawking drive or not? Yes or no? We ten will account to the thousands of others for the consequences. Ces Ambre?”
“Yes.” The woman in the blue robe appeared as calm as her startlingly clear and gentle eyes. “Jon Mikail Dem Alem?”
“Yes,” said the ebony life-support specialist in a thick voice. “Yes.”
“Oam Rai?”
The yellow-band woman hesitated. No one on board knew the risks to the ship’s systems better than this person. A two percent chance of destruction must seem an obscene gamble to her. She touched her lips with her fingers. “There are two civilizations we are deciding for here,” she said, obviously musing to herself. “Possibly three.”
“Oam Rai?” repeated Dem Lia.
“Yes,” said Oam Rai.
“Kern Loi?” said Dem Lia to the astronomer.
“Yes.” The young woman’s voice quavered slightly.
“Patek Georg Dem Mio?”
The red-band security specialist grinned. “Yes. As the ancient saying goes, no guts, no glory.”
Dem Lia was irritated. “You’re speaking for 684,288 sleeping people who might not be so devil-may-care.”
Patek Georg’s grin stayed in place. “My vote is yes.”
“Dr. Samel Ria Kem Ali?”
The medic looked as troubled as Patek had brazen. “I must say… there are so many unknowns…” He looked around. “Yes,” he said. “We must be sure.”
“Peter Delem Dem Tae?” Dem Lia asked the blue-banded psychologist.
The older man had been chewing on a pencil. He looked at it, smiled, and set it on the table. “Yes.”
“Res Sandre?”
For a second the other green-band woman’s eyes seemed to show defiance, almost anger. Dem Lia steeled herself for the veto and the lecture that would follow.
“Yes,” said Res Sandre. “I believe it’s a moral imperative.”
That left the youngest in the group.
“Den Soa?” said Dem Lia.
The young woman had to clear her thr
oat before speaking. “Yes. Let’s go look.”
All eyes turned to the appointed commander.
“I vote yes,” said Dem Lia. “Saigyô, prepare for maximum acceleration toward the translation point to Hawking drive. Kem Loi, you and Res Sandre and Oam Rai work on the optimum inbound translation point for a systemwide search for life. Chief Branchman Redt, Far Rider, True Voice of the Tree Kasteen, if you would prefer to wait behind, we will prepare the airlock now. If you three wish to come, we must leave immediately.”
The Chief Branchman spoke without consulting the others. “We wish to accompany you, Citizen Dem Lia.”
She nodded. “Far Rider, tell your people to clear a wide wake. We’ll angle above the plane of the ecliptic outward bound, but our fusion tail is going to be fierce as a dragon’s breath.”
The fully space-adapted Ouster broadcast, “I have already done so. Many are looking forward to the spectacle.”
Dem Lia grunted softly. “Let’s hope it’s not more of a spectacle than we’ve all bargained for,” she said.
The Helix made the jump safely, with only minor upset to a few of the ship’s subsystems. At a distance of three AU’s from the surface of the red giant, they surveyed the system. They had estimated two days, but the survey was done in less than twenty-four hours.
There were no hidden planets, no planetoids, no hollowed-out asteroids, no converted comets, no artificial space habitats—no sign of life whatsoever. When the G2 star had finished its evolution into a red giant at least three million years earlier, its helium nuclei began burning its own ash in a high-temperature second round of fusion reactions at the star’s core while the original hydrogen fusion continued in a thin shell far from that core, the whole process creating carbon and oxygen atoms that added to the reaction and… presto… the short-lived rebirth of the star as a red giant. It was obvious that there had been no outer planets, no gas giants, no rocky worlds beyond the new red sun’s reach. Any inner planets had been swallowed whole by the expanding star. Outgassing of dust and heavy radiation had all but cleared the solar system of anything larger than nickel-iron meteorites.