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 possibility. 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.
