by Vernor Vinge
Tines. I like it. If that was the alien’s image, then it was the right name for his race. His pitiful advisors—and sometimes even the Flenser Fragment—were still intimidated by the ship from the stars. No question, there was power in that ship beyond anything in the world. But after the first panic, Steel understood that the aliens were not supernaturally gifted. They had simply progressed—in the sense that Woodcarver made so much of—beyond the current state of his world’s science. Certainly the alien civilization was a deadly unknown right now. Indeed, it might be capable of burning this world to a cinder. Yet the more Steel saw, the more he realized the intrinsic inferiority of the aliens: What a bizarre abortion they were, a race of intelligent singletons. Every one of them must be raised from nothing, like a wholly newborn pack. Memories could only be passed by voice and writing. Each creature grew and aged and even died as a whole. Despite himself, Steel shivered.
He had come a long way from the first misconceptions, the first fears. For more than a thirty days now he’d been scheming to use the star ship to rule the world. The mantis said that ship was signaling others. That had reduced some of his Servants to incontinence. So. Sooner or later, more ships would arrive. Ruling the world was no longer a practical goal… It was time to aim higher, at goals even the Master had never imagined. Take away their technical advantages and the mantis folk were such finite, fragile beings. They should be easy to conquer. Even they seemed to realize this. Tines, the creature calls us. So it will be. Some day Tines would pace between the stars and rule there.
But in the years till then, life would be very dangerous. Like a newborn pup, all their potential could be destroyed by one small blow. The Movement’s survival—the world’s survival—would depend upon superior intelligence, imagination, discipline, and treachery. Fortunately, those had always been Steel’s great strengths.
Steel dreamed in the candlelight and haze… Intelligence, imagination, discipline, treachery. Done right … could the aliens be persuaded to eliminate all of Steel’s enemies … and then bare their throats to him? It was daring, almost beyond reason, but there might be a way. Jefri claimed he could operate the ship’s signaler. By himself? Steel doubted it. The alien was thoroughly duped, but not especially competent. Amdiranifani was a different story. He was showing all the genius of his bloodlines. And the principles of loyalty and sacrifice his teachers drilled into him had taken hold, though he was a bit … playful. His obedience didn’t have the sharp edge that fear could bring. No matter. As a tool he was useful beyond all others. Amdiranifani understood Jefri, and seemed to understand the alien artifacts even better than the mantis did.
The risk must be taken. He would let the two aboard the ship. They would send his message in place of the automatic distress signal. And what should that first message be? Word for word, it would be the most important, most dangerous thing any pack had ever said.
Three hundred yards away, deep in the experiment wing, a boy and a pack of puppies came across an unexpected piece of good luck: an unlocked door, and a chance to play with Jefri’s commset.
The phone was more complex than some. It was intended for hospital and field work, for the remote control of devices as well as for voice talk. By trial and error, the two gradually narrowed the options.
Jefri Olsndot pointed to numbers that had appeared on the side of the device. “I think that means we’re matched with some receiver.” He glanced nervously at the doorway. Something told him they really shouldn’t be here.
“That’s the same pattern as on the radio Mr. Steel took,” said Amdi. Not even one of his heads was watching the door.
“I bet if we press it here, what we say will come out on his radio. Now he’ll know we can help… So what should we do?”
Three of Amdi raced around the room, like dogs that couldn’t keep their attention on the conversation. By now, Jefri knew this was the equivalent of a human looking away and humming as he thought. The angle of his gaze was another gesture, in this case a spreading and mischievous smile. “I think we should surprise him. He is always so serious.”
“Yeah.” Mr. Steel was pretty solemn. But then all the adults were. They reminded him of the older scientists at the High Lab.
Amdi grabbed the radio and gave him a “just watch this” look. He nosed on the “talk” switch and sang a long ululation into the mike. It sounded only vaguely like pack speech. One of Amdi translated, next to Jefri’s ear. The human boy felt giggles stealing up his throat.
In his den, Lord Steel was lost in scheming. His imagination—loosed by herbs and brandy—floated free, playing with the possibilities. He was settled deep in velvet cushions, comfortable in the den’s safety. The remaining candles shone faintly on the landscape mural, glinting from the polished furniture. The story he would tell the aliens, he almost had it now…
The noise on his desk began as a small thing, submerged beneath his dreaming. It was mostly low-pitched, but there were overtones in the range of thought, like slices of another mind. It was a presence, growing. Someone is in my den! The thought tore like Flenser’s killing blade. Steel’s members spasmed panic, disoriented by smoke and drink.
There was a voice in the middle of the insanity. It was distorted, missing tones that any normal speech should have. It howled and quavered at him, “Lord Steel! Greetings from the Pack of Packs, the Lord God Almighty!”
Part of Steel was already out the main hatch, staring wide-eyed at his guards in the hallway beyond. The troopers’ presence brought a bit of calm, and icy embarrassment. This is nonsense. He tipped a head to the alien device on his desk. The echoes were everywhere, but the sounds originated in the far-talker… There was no pack speech now, just the high-pitched slices of sound, mindless warbling in the middle range of thought. Wait. Behind it all, faint and low … there were the coughing grunts he recognized as mantis laughter.
Steel rarely gave way to rage. It should be his tool, not his master. But listening to the laughter, and remembering the words… Steel felt black bloodiness rising in first one member and then another. Almost without thought, he reached back and smashed the commset. It fell instantly silent. He glared at the guards ranged at attention in the hallway. Their mind noise was quiet with stifled fear.
Someone would die for this.
Mr. Steel met with Amdi and Jefri the day after their success with the radio. They had convinced him. They were moving to the mainland. Jefri would have his chance to call for rescue!
Steel was even more solemn than usual; he made a big thing about how important it was to get help, to defend against another attack from the Woodcarvers. But he didn’t seem angry about Amdi’s little prank. Jefri breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Back home, Daddy would have tanned his hide for something like that. I guess Amdi is right. Mr. Steel was serious because of all his responsibilities and the dangers they faced. But underneath he was a very nice person.
Crypto: 0
Syntax: 43
As received by: Transceiver Relay03 at Relay
Language path: Firetongue->Cloudmark->Triskweline, SjK units [Firetongue and Cloudmark are High Beyond trade languages. Only core meaning is rendered by this translation.]
From: Arbitration Arts Corporation at Firecloud Nebula [A High Beyond military[?] organization. Known age ~100 years]
Subject: Reason for concern
Summary: Three single-system civilizations are apparently destroyed
Key phrases: scale interstellar disasters, scale interstellar warfare?, Straumli Realm Perversion
Distribution:
War Trackers Interest Group
Threats Interest Group
Homo Sapiens Interest Group
Date: 53.57 days since the fall of Straumli Realm
Text of message:
Recently an obscure civilization announced it had created a new Power in the Transcend. It then dropped “temporarily” off the Known Net. Since that time, there have been about a million messages in Threats about the incident—plenty of speculatio
ns that a Class Two Perversion had been born—but no evidence of effects beyond the boundaries of the former “Straumli Realm”.
Arbitration Arts specializes in treckle lansing disputes. As such, we have few common business interests with natural races or Threats Group. That may have to change: sixty-five hours ago, we noticed the apparent extinction of three isolated civilizations in the High Beyond near Straumli Realm. Two of these were Eye-in-the-U religious probes, and the third was a Pentragian factory. Previously their main Net link had been Straumli Realm. As such, they have been off the Net since Straumli dropped, except for occasional pinging from us.
We diverted three missions to perform fly-throughs. Signal reconnaissance revealed wideband communication that was more like neural control than local net traffic. Several new large structures were noted. All our vessels were destroyed before detailed information could be returned. Given the background of these settlements, we conclude that this is not the normal aftermath of a transcending.
These observations are consistent with a Class Two attack from the Transcend (albeit a secretive one). The most obvious source would be the new Power constructed by Straumli Realm. We urge special vigilence to all High Beyond civilizations in this part of the Beyond. We larger ones have little to fear, but the threat is very clear.
Crypto: 0
Syntax: 43
As received by: Transceiver Relay03 at Relay
Language path: Firetongue->Cloudmark->Triskweline, SjK units [Firetongue and Cloudmark are High Beyond trade languages. Only core meaning is rendered by this translation.]
From: Arbitration Arts Corporation at Firecloud Nebula [A High Beyond military[?] organization. Known age ~100 years]
Subject: New service available
Summary: Arbitration Arts to provide Net relay service
Key phrases: Special Rates, Sentient Translator Programs, Ideal for civilizations in the High Beyond
Distribution:
Communication Costs Interest Group
Motley Hatch Administration Group
Date: 61.00 days since the fall of Straumli Realm
Text of message:
Arbitration Arts is proud to announce a transceiver-layer service especially designed for sites in the High Beyond [rates tabulated after the text of this message]. State of the Zone programs will provide high quality translation and routing. It has been nearly one hundred years since any High Beyond civilization in this part of the Galaxy has been interested in providing such a communication service. We realize the job is dull and the armiphlage not in keeping with the effort, but we all stand to benefit from protocols that are consistent with the Zone we live in. Details follow under syntax 8139. … [Cloudmark:Triskweline translator program balks at handling syntax 8139.]
Crypto: 0
Syntax: 43
As received by: Transceiver Relay03 at Relay
Language path: Cloudmark->Triskweline, SjK units [Cloudmark is a High Beyond trade language. Despite colloquial rendering, only core meaning is guaranteed.]
From: Transcendent Bafflements Trading Union at Cloud Center
Subject: Matter of life and death
Summary: Arbitration Arts has fallen to Straumli Perversion via a Net attack. Use Middle Beyond relays till emergency passes!
Key phrases: Net attack, scale interstellar warfare, Straumli Perversion
Distribution:
War Trackers Interest Group
Threats Interest Group
Homo Sapiens Interest Group
Date: 61.12 days since the fall of Straumli Realm
Text of message:
WARNING! The site identifying itself as Arbitration Arts is now controlled by the Straumli Perversion. The Arts’ recent advertisement of communications services is a deadly trick. In fact we have good evidence that the Perversion used sapient Net packets to invade and disable the Arts’ defenses. Large portions of the Arts now appear to be under direct control of the Straumli Power. Parts of the Arts that were not infected in the initial invasion have been destroyed by the converted portions: Fly-throughs show several stellifications.
What can be done: If during the last thousand seconds, you have received any High Beyond protocol packets from “Arbitration Arts”, discard them at once. If they have been processed (then chances are it is the Perversion who is reading this message and with a [broad smile]), then the processing site and all locally netted sites must be physically destroyed at once. We realize that this means the destruction of solar systems, but consider the alternative. You are under Transcendent attack.
If you survive the initial peril (the next thirty hours or so), then there are obvious procedures that can give relative safety: Do not accept High Beyond protocol packets. At the very least, route all communications through Middle Beyond sites, with translation down to, and then up from, local trade languages.
For the longer term:
It’s obvious that an extraordinarily powerful Class Two Perversion has bloomed in our region of the galaxy. For the next thirteen years or so, all advanced civilizations near us will be in great danger.
If we can identify the background of the current perversion, we may discover its weaknesses and a feasible defense. Class Two Perversions all involve a deformed Power that creates symbiotic structures in the High Beyond—but there is enormous variety of origins. Some are poorly-formed jokes told by Powers no longer on the scene. Others are weapons built by the newly transcendent and never properly disarmed.
The immediate source of this danger is well-documented: a species recently up from the Middle Beyond, Homo sapiens, founded Straumli Realm. We are inclined to believe the theory proposed in messages […], namely that Straumli researchers experimented with something in Shortcuts, and that the recipe was a self-booting evil from an earlier time. One possibility: Some loser from long ago planted how-to’s on the Net (or in some lost archive) for the use of its own descendents. Thus, we are interested in any information related to Homo sapiens.
The next day Amdi went on the longest trip of his young life. Bundled in windbreakers, they traveled down wide, cobbled streets to the straits below the castle. Mr. Steel led the way on a chariot-cart drawn by three kherhogs. He looked marvelous in his red-striped jackets. Guards dressed in white fur rolled along on either side, and the dour Tyrathect brought up the rear. The aurora was as brilliant as Amdijefri had ever seen, brighter in sum than the full moon above the northern horizon. Icicles grew down from buildings’ eaves, sometimes all the way to the ground: glittering, green-silver pillars in the light.
Then they were on the boats, rowing across the straits. The water swept like chill black stone around the hulls.
When they reached the other side, Starship Hill towered over them, higher than any castle could ever be. Every minute brought new visions, new worlds.
It took half an hour to reach the top of that hill, even though their carts were pulled by Kherhogs, and nobody walked. Amdi looked in all directions, awed by the landscape that spread, aurora-lit, below them. At first Jefri seemed just as excited, but as they reached the hilltop, he stopped looking around and hugged painfully hard at his friend.
Mr. Steel had built a shelter around the starship. Inside, the air was still and a little warmer. Jefri stood at the base of the spidery stairs, looking up at the light that spilled from the ship’s open doorway. Amdi felt him shivering.
“Is he frightened of his own flier?” asked Tyrathect.
By now Amdi knew most of Jefri’s fears, and understood most of the despair. How would I feel if Mr. Steel were killed?“No, not scared. It’s the memories of what happened here.”
Steel said gently, “Tell him we could come again. He doesn’t have to go inside today.”
Jefri shook his head at the suggestion, but couldn’t answer right away. “I’ve got to go on. I’ve got to be brave.” He started slowly up the stairs, stopping at each step to make sure that Amdi was still all with him. The puppies were split between concern for Jefri and the desire to rush mad
ly into this wonderful mystery.
Then they were through the hatch, and into Two-Legs strangeness. Bright bluish light, air as warm as in the castle … and dozens of mysterious shapes. They walked to the far side of the big room, and Mr. Steel stuck some heads in the entrance. His mind sounds echoed loudly around them. “I’ve quilted the walls, Amdi, but even so, there isn’t room for more than one of us in here.”
“Y-yes,” there were echoes and Steel’s mind sounded strangely fierce.
“It’s up to you to protect your friend here, and let me know about everything you see.” He moved back so that just one head still looked in upon them.
“Yes. Yes! I will.” It was the first time anybody except Jefri had really needed him.
Jefri wandered silently about the room full of his sleeping friends. He wasn’t crying any more, and he wasn’t in the silent funk that often held him. It was as if he couldn’t quite believe where he was. He passed his hands lightly across the caskets, looked at the faces within. So many friends, thought Amdi, waiting to be wakened. What will they be like?
“The walls? I don’t remember this…” said Jefri. He touched the heavy quilting that Steel had hung.
“It’s to make the place sound better,” said Amdi. He pulled at the flaps, wondering what was behind: Green wall, like stone and steel all at once … and covered with tiny bumps and fingers of gray. “What’s this?”
Jefri was looking over his shoulders. “Ug. Mold. It’s spread. I’m glad Mr. Steel has covered it up.” The human boy drifted away. Amdi stayed a second longer, poked several heads up close to the stuff. Mold and fungus were a constant problem in the castle; people were always cleaning it up—and perversely so, in Amdi’s opinion. He thought fungus was neat, something that could grow on hardest rock. And this stuff was especially strange. Some of the clumps were almost half an inch high, but wispy, like solid smoke.