<For us as well. But the Philosophs never knew the true labyrinths of this place. The mechs have made certain to destroy all records they can find of that distant epoch.>
Killeen stated moodily at the expanses. “For us, coming here—well, it’s like climbing the tallest mountain anybody ever saw.”
<I believe that is somehow linked to why you are needed.>
Killeen shrugged, as if sensing when he would learn no more. “Okay, we’ll cool our heels a little behind that cloud.”
Though ordinary crew seldom spoke on the Bridge without the Cap’n’s bidding, Toby decided to use his position as Cap’n’s son. He could not resist probing further. “Quath, what made your ancestors leave?”
<Mechs guard this cyclone of fire.>
“Why? It’s a hellhole.”
<Mechs fare well here. Energies surge. They sup on such ferocity.>
“But there aren’t any mechs here now.”
<So it seems. This worries me.>
“There are plenty on our tail,” Killeen observed mildly.
<They will try to find us in the Besik cloud.>
“So we hide?” Killeen asked, frowning.
Toby knew his father did not like to sneak by a challenge unless he absolutely had to. On the other hand, the Families had been running for a long time, learning the elusive crafts, and knew the virtues of being missing.
<My kin of the Myriapodia will have a chance to speak and to [unknown].>
Killeen shrugged again, as if he knew when he wasn’t going to get any more out of Quath. He tapped the control board. The screens veered again, coming around to the strange, warped star—which wasn’t a star at all any more.
While they had been talking, the inflating fat-man’s belly had broken open. Now it spewed out white-hot streamers, the tortured sun finally shredding. Erupting gas swirled away from the split star, twisting. It rushed to join the smoldering rim of the great disk. As the view backed away, Toby saw the star as if it were a helpless animal, caught, struggling pointlessly, its life being sucked out. Lumps of it streamed into the disk, setting off fresh orange explosions there.
Toby felt a chilling wonder mixed with fear. “How come the hole can rip up a whole star, this far out, and it’s so small we can’t even see it?”
Killeen reached down and patted his son’s shoulder, and in his face Toby saw the same mix of emotions. “The way I understand it, that hole is small, sure—but it’s got plenty of mass in it. That much, all compressed together, it makes strong tides. The inner face of that star’s trying to orbit along one curve, see? Its back face, it’s a smidgen further out from the hole, so it wants to orbit along a little-bit different orbit.”
“I guess. So?”
“Well, they can’t both go their separate ways and still hold together and be a star, right?” From Killeen’s half-distracted gaze Toby knew he was getting coached by his tech Aspect. “But they can go their own way, if the star tears itself apart. So when the tides get strong enough, that’s what it does. The tides just plain shred it, like a rag doll.”
Toby looked around. The whole Bridge crew was silent, watching their Cap’n. In their upturned faces Toby read hope and need, sobered by the spectacle. Killeen’s wary smile reflected the glare of the agonized, dying sun.
In the quiet Quath spoke, her words carrying a faint hiss. <This fresh food will fuel the Eater—and first, the disk.>
Killeen’s face wrinkled with worry. “So it’ll get hotter?”
<Yes. Let us speed to the refreshing cool of Besik.>
Toby grinned. “I thought your kind looked but didn’t run.”
<To run quickly and well is an art, which then lets one live to watch again.>
“Ummm. Sounds like an excuse to me, big-bug.”
<[Untranslatable].>
THREE
Besik Bay
Toby didn’t like to take advantage of his being son of the Cap’n, but there were times when he couldn’t resist.
This was one. They were running for their lives now.
Every wall screen in Argo showed how close pursuit was. The mech ships were gaining on them. A narrow gap, getting slimmer. Their boxy, jumbled construction betrayed no concern for line or craft. Indeed, as Jocelyn explained, mech ships weren’t like bottles carrying passengers. They were multiple, interlocking machines, without even a single, intact skin of metal. The basic unit of organic forms was the individual. For mechs, single operating systems the size of cities were perfectly ordinary. And these ships were huge, misshapen bundles.
Behind them came the Myriapodia craft with their immense ivory hoop suspended between them. The mechs did not turn to attack the Myriapodia. And Argo now fled into the shadowy tendrils of the immense Besik cloud.
Bravado and loud talk dwindled away. Family spoke quietly in small, worried knots around the cafeteria. Toby didn’t want to sit idly and wait for news, so whenever he could fake an excuse, he slipped up to the Bridge. If he stood at the back, the Bridge officers didn’t notice him, or else they gave him a wink and passed on. Cap’n’s son, who needs trouble?
Naturally, Besen wanted to come, too. Toby had yet to master the skills of dealing with women, as opposed to girls—and Besen was most definitely a woman. In the Family, a woman was one who displayed ability at a wide range of practical matters, not just in the kitchen or in bed—though they were no slouches there, either. Girls and boys were just that—but women and men were crew. With appropriate rituals to mark the change. So he found it impossible to not take her along.
They stopped for a moment in the small Legacy chamber. It was really just a cranny tucked into the flowing corridor walls, and Toby came there often. Besen had hardly ever been, and said so. He was shocked.
“But these are the Legacies!”
“Well, sure,” she said half-apologetically—and then her eyes flashed defiantly. “But they’re just some slabs with writing on them. Not even writing anybody can read, right?”
