Sure, listen, it could be that Watcher hasn’t gotten the whole story from Earthside yet, from those gray ships, they must be pretty damn busy
That Watcher’s old, slow
We hit it now maybe take it by surprise—
Enough of your waffling Ted
Yeah you got the sense of the meeting
You do something and fast or we vote you out, Ted
Simple as that
I understand your concern and if you’ll merely let me think
I’m calling the question Mr. Chairman
No wait let me ask—Bob?
Uh, yes, Ted?
Are we cleared?
All revved
All right then I’m ordering Propulsion to bring the ramscoop up to ignition
That’s great!
I take it I have the approval of you all? And does anybody have anything further to add?
All primed Ted
Team here is ready
Nigel shook himself. Ted has used the consensus for so long, and now it was using him.
“Don’t you think we should get inside?” Nikka asked.
“That air bubble won’t be any protection. Quite the reverse, if you shed your helmet.”
Carlos called, “Look! They’re turning Lancer.” Then plaintively, “They’re not going to evacuate first.”
“The Watcher is active. It might skrag our shuttle,” Nigel said, looking at Carlos.
The man was making an effort to be more authoritative now, speaking more deeply and using more abrupt phrases. Still, it was unconvincing. Inappropriate response. Yes, that was the nub of it, the wrong answer to one of the inherent troubles of organic life. The machines had no need of sex; they could reproduce through a template. And they could alter themselves at will, a form of voluntary evolution.
Organic beings were forever split into the efficient yet isolating bonds of two sexes, two views of the world, two dynamics that only partially overlapped, two beings who desired the other but could never wholly be the other, no matter how surgery or simulations promised a fleeting false liberation from the problem of forever being who you truly were, separate and unlike and yearning in the darkness you made for yourself.
Overhead in the hard night, Lancer moved.
It turned on its axis and brought the exhaust of the ramscoop to bear on the Watcher. Men and women stood on the barren plain and watched the silvery dot that was their home. Lancer pulsed with fresh energy. The magnetic fields gathered, driven by the awakened fluxlife.
“Hope they burn the damn thing to a cinder,” Carlos said fiercely.
“Nigel, I don’t like this,” Nikka whispered.
Nigel said laconically, “Listen. They’re calling it an ‘exploratory attack.’”
“It’s revenge,” Nikka said.
“Don’t be such a coward,” Carlos said roughly. “It’s about time somebody did something.”
Nigel’s eyebrows arched like iron-gray caterpillars. “Indeed. But not this.”
Crusted orange lights moved on the Watcher. Blue bands crisscrossed it. A halo of darting burnt-yellow specks appeared around Lancer as the drive engaged. The ramscoop required a mix of deuterium and other isotopes to begin the fire.
Carlos began, “I bet it’s never seen a fusion drive before, or it’d be more—” and the sky exploded.
A gout of flame curled out of Lancer’s exhaust. The fusion start-up belched ionized plasma in a roaring streak that slammed into the Watcher.
“Jesus!” Carlos cried. “That’ll fry it for sure.”
Soundless, the stream poured forth, spattering streamers of blue and gold and crimson on the Watcher’s gray stone and tarnished metal.
“This is mere show,” Nigel said. Arcing plasma lit the plain around them, throwing grotesque shadows. “The high-energy gamma rays are doing the real damage.”
“How long can it …?” Nikka said.
