Godlike Machines (56 page)

“And it’s no use to us either,” Jake replied, “unless we can enliven it. We can’t send the deep rock through your network, can we?”

“No, but if you spent a century or two manufacturing antimatter from geothermal energy, you could build an engine to carry samples of rock at a significant fraction of light-speed. And even if for some reason you didn’t have enough spare power to do that, I guarantee that you could find a partner in the Amalgam who’d trade you a few tons of antimatter for some deep rock samples of their own. And I mean a few tons on arrival at Tallulah, not a few tons when it left home!”

Juhi said, “We need to be careful. It’s one thing to hand Tallulah over to the Next Passengers, as the Builders intended, but we don’t want a million strangers flocking here just to mine the planet.”

“Nobody’s going to do that,” Shelma assured her. “If deep rock has any value at all in the Amalgam, it will come from the ability to graft it, or the ability to reverse-engineer it. In either case, a few kilograms would be enough.”

Rahul said, “Whether we choose to join the Amalgam or not, you need antimatter for your own journey, don’t you?”

“A few micrograms would come in handy,” Shelma admitted.

The transceiver sprayed out a chemical ringtone and Rahul replied with a command for it to speak. Azar found the conversation that followed cryptic—and she suspected that parts of it were literally in code-but when it was over Rahul announced, “Someone spotted you in the forest with Jake. The Circlers have destroyed your puppets, but they know more or less what happened now. I think we need to move from here.”

Azar was dismayed. “Can’t you talk to them? Explain the situation? None of our plans should be any threat to them.” The Amalgam would happily leave the Circlers in peace, sending no travelers and no further explorers, but the Spiral Out faction were entitled to emigrate, and to trade a few small pieces of Tallulah’s exotic legacy with the wider galaxy.

Rahul said, “They’re convinced that you’re the New Passengers, and that the fight to retain Tallulah has begun. In the past they’ve viewed Spiral Out as timid fatalists, but now that we’ve come to your aid we’re something worse. We’re traitors.”

On the flight deck Shelma muttered a string of obscenities. “We’re not going to spark a civil war,” she told the lizards. “We’ll surrender ourselves. It doesn’t matter if they destroy us; we’ll make backups.”

Jake said, “But they understand now that you can do that. You could surrender a thousand machines to them—or one pair of living creatures, and call them your true form—but it won’t be enough to convince them that they’ve put an end to your plans.”

Azar wanted to contest this bleak verdict, but from what she’d seen of the Circlers firsthand it rang true. Whatever the original intention of Tallulah’s creators, it had sounded like a beautiful story: a chariot traveling between faint, forgotten stars, rescuing the inhabitants of dying worlds, offering them a safe, warm home for a few million years so they could build up their strength then fly from the nest—or, if they wished, dive into its depths, into a femtoscale mansion of a quadrillion rooms. In a way, she admired the Circlers for their determination to tear up the script, to scream at their long-vanished benefactors that they would make their own decisions and not just meekly come along for the ride. But the irony was that they were so intent on rebelling against the Builders that they seemed blind to anything that didn’t conform to their own version of the scenario. It was chiseled in stone that one day they would fight the New Passengers for Tallulah, and they had spent so long rehearsing this play that you couldn’t even tap them on the shoulder and suggest a different ending without being dragged into the plot and cast as the villain.

Shelma had their mock-lizard body destroy itself, and found a dim but agile P2 fish for the insect to parasitize and modify. A talking fish would attract suspicion, but with some help from the library they managed to engineer speech glands for it that created rapidly decaying words; if they swam up close to a chosen confidante they could emit some short-range chemical whispers with little chance of being overheard. Unfortunately, the lizards’ own medical nanotech wasn’t flexible enough to do the same for them, and Jake and the others recoiled from a friendly offer to let the aliens tweak their speech organs.

Shelma said privately, “This is going to get messy.”

“So how do we fix it?” Azar replied.

“I wish I knew.”

They agreed on a place and time to rendezvous, then Jake, Rahul and Juhi scattered.

Shelma said, “I think we should go back to the surface for a while.”

They took the fish as high as it could go, then left it parked and rode the insect alone for the last few hundred meters. When they broke the water, Azar found herself almost weeping with relief. She was still as far from home as ever, but just a glimpse of the stars after so long without them made her feel that she was back in the right universe again.

Neither the balloon nor the orbiting microprobes had experienced any form of aggression, or noticed anything else unusual. It seemed that the Circlers, for all their paranoia, had been too complacent to create a world bristling with sensors and weapons while Tallulah’s next stop was still so far from sight.

Shelma said, “We should bring the balloon down on the ground somewhere and replicate the library a few times. I think we’re already carrying everything vital, but if our backups have to take over from us we want to be sure that they’re not disadvantaged.” Their backups in the jungle were already receiving incremental memory updates, by radio via the microprobes.

Azar agreed, and they sent the instructions. She paced the flight deck, rubbing her eyes. She had given up the need for sleep, but there was still something irredeemably strange about the feeling of unpunctuated consciousness stretching back into the distance.

“I screwed up,” Shelma said. “I rushed to make contact. We didn’t even know what the factions’ names meant.”

“And I let you do it,” Azar replied. “We’re both at fault. But I don’t believe the situation’s irretrievable. The Circlers have killed some alien zombies, but according to Jake the philosophies have been at peace for millennia; it could still be a step too far for them to start harming each other.”

“How do we defuse their anxiety,” Shelma said, “when there’s no invading army for them to defeat? Do we offer them the microprobes as sitting ducks? I doubt that they could hit targets that small, and even if they could they’d just assume that there were 10,000 more.”

Azar looked up at the stars again, and tried to see them as a hostile, threatening sight. “They need some theater. They need some catharsis.” Clearly Shelma thought the same way too, but then neither of them were exactly experts in the lizards’ psychology. “And we need to talk to Jake again.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“The microprobes are too small, and Mologhat is already gone. So maybe we should think about launching a bigger target.”

Only Juhi turned up at the rendezvous point in a remote stretch of ribbon-weed forest. “Jake and Rahul are safe,” she said, “but they’re too far away at the moment.”

“What’s been happening?” Azar asked her.

“We’ve been in contact with most of Spiral Out, and they’ve made a decision. They want to send a delegation with you to the closest world in the Amalgam, to make contact with this culture and report back on the possibilities for trade and migration.”

Azar was encouraged; at least Spiral Out had proved willing to break from its preconceptions.

“We’re prepared to start manufacturing antimatter,” Juhi continued. “But we should compare notes on the process first; if you have a more efficient method we should adopt that.”

Shelma said, “What kind of power sources do you have access to?” The everyday lizard culture they’d seen was based on plant thermoelectrics.

“There are some deep-bore geothermal turbines that are used for specialized research projects,” Juhi replied. “Obviously we can’t tap the whole output, but we should be able to siphon some off discreetly.”

“What if you just built your own turbine?” Azar said. “Would the Circlers do anything to stop you?”

“Right now,” Juhi said, “I don’t think it would be wise to find out.”

Azar turned that statement over in her mind. If people were about to begin clandestine antimatter production, what would happen to them if they were caught?

“We’ve had an idea,” she said, “but I don’t know if it will make sense to you. The Circlers believe we’ve come from a nearby planet, from a star too dim to see. What if we built a spacecraft that might have made a short journey like that... and then let the Circlers shoot it down?”

Juhi said, “How are you going to power this spacecraft?”

“The azide bulbs you eat when you travel; enough of them could actually get a small craft into low orbit. The Circlers accept that we’re digitized, so they don’t expect the invasion force to be a fleet of thousand-ton arks.”

“It’s an interesting idea,” Juhi said, “but the hardest part would be contriving their success in destroying the craft. Since your arrival they’ve been dredging up plans for weapons that our ancestors constructed for the last close approach, 200,000 years ago. But nobody’s sure now that they still understand those designs.”

Shelma said, “What about surveillance? Are they already monitoring what’s happening in near space?”

“Yes. You can be sure of that.”

“Then the problem,” Shelma said, “is that they’d see us taking off. It would better to convince them that something new is coming in from deep space.”

Juhi paused, the front of her body twitching from side to side, a motion that Azar now recognized as a sign of anxiety. “I don’t see how we can do that. But let me take this to the others.”

Shelma had the insect’s nanotech construct a sample of a solid-state antimatter factory, and passed it to Juhi for the lizards to copy. It was the Amalgam’s most efficient design, but nothing could get around the fact that it would still need thousands of times more power than any ordinary burrow consumed.

After parting from Juhi they stayed away from Jute and the other colonies, but the scout mites had placed intercepts on some of the intercolony trunk fibers long ago. The lizards had no infrastructure in place for quantum encryption, and their standard communication codes were easily cracked; clearly this wasn’t a culture with an entrenched history of bitter enmities and closely held secrets. It was a culture polarized by sudden panic, and Azar clung to the hope that cooler heads would soon prevail.

The tapped conversations were discouraging, though. The idea of Spiral Out as traitors was spreading throughout the Circlers, many of whom were urging each other to keep a close watch on their treacherous neighbors and erstwhile friends. The claim that the alien visitors were benign explorers with no territorial ambitions was largely discounted; two previous examples of Tallulah being colonized were, apparently, sufficient to render other motives unlikely. Azar began to wonder if the best course would be to lie low for a century or two and simply wait for the non-arrival of the trumpeted invasion force to leave the prophets of doom looking like fools.

Rahul met them for the next rendezvous. “Jake’s disappeared,” he said. “I think he’s been imprisoned, but nobody will admit to holding him.”

Azar was speechless. For all the bad news she’d heard from the taps, she’d never believed it would come to this.

“We can send machines to hunt for him,” Shelma said.

“If you can, please,” Rahul replied. “But they will have moved him to another colony, so I don’t know exactly where you should start.”

Azar came her to senses. She instructed the scouts that were already hovering near the fish; they would spread out and replicate, following the fiber trunk lines from colony to colony, spawning search parties as they went.

“We have an idea to placate the Circlers,” Rahul said. “To give them the triumph they think they need.”

“Go on,” Shelma urged him.

“We can’t get a craft into deep space, unseen,” he said. “And even if we could, I doubt the Circlers could hit it. But the Old Passengers’ machines are still working very well after all this time—as you know, to your cost. If they were seen to repel the would-be New Passengers, I think the Circlers would treat that victory as their own.”

Shelma said, “But how do we get the target up there? And how do we guarantee that the machines strike it?”

“We cheat,” Rahul said. “We hack into the Old Passengers’ network, and make it respond with as much sound and fury as possible to something that isn’t really there.”

Azar said, “Do you know how to do that?”

“Not quite,” Rahul admitted. “This is where we need your help.”

The lizards had mapped parts of the Old Passengers’ network long ago. It was bioengineered from native C3 plants, and used a modified form of the conductive polymers that Azar had first seen in the thermocouple bush. There were sensors of various kinds scattered across the continents, processing hubs on land and in the water, and dozens of geothermal cannons on the ocean floor.

Every thousand years or so someone had tried tapping into the network, but the protocols had always eluded them. There had been talk of trying to decommission the whole eccentric, unpredictable system, but the contrary view—that the Old Passengers had known what they were doing, and always had the interests of Tallulah at heart-had prevailed. Certainly the system had been benign enough to allow the lizards themselves to cross from their home world unmolested, and if the cannons sometimes spat steam and ice at phantoms that was a small price to pay.

Armed with Rahul’s map, Azar and Shelma returned to the surface and sent instructions to the other explorer insects, which had now reached every continent. As the insects tapped into the network, the microprobes monitored the flashes of Cerenkov radiation that incoming cosmic rays created in the upper atmosphere. Whatever else might elicit a response from the system, radiation was a proven irritant.

As they waited for the data to accumulate, Azar couldn’t stop thinking about Jake. What would his captors do?
Torture him?
While the lizards had engineered senescence away, and pumped their bodies full of medical nanotech that could combat the subtlest toxins and parasites, a simple metal blade could still be as painful, or as fatal, as it would have been for their earliest ancestors.