Tides of Light (18 page)

Quath spun the skeleton, marveling at it. Inside her a chorus swelled over her weak, doubting voices. She swept aside the
bleak landscape of small-minded logic, the fears which had ruled her.

Here at last was the truth made manifest. Her faith returned.

Reason resonated here. A universe which spent such care on loathsome, useless Noughts surely could not make the whole drama
pointless by discarding it all, by letting blackness swallow everything, by letting Quath’jutt’kkal’thon ever finally fail,
fail and die.

PART THREE

A Matter of Momentum

K
illeen smacked his gloved palm against the alien bulkhead. “Damn!”

Then he heard Jocelyn coming back and made himself take long, calming breaths. It was never a good idea to let an officer,
even one as disciplined as Jocelyn, see the Cap’n in a pure, frustrated fit of anger.

“Nothing,” she reported. “Couldn’t see a damn thing happening anywhere in the ship.”

Killeen nodded. He had been certain the craft was completely dead to their commands, but they had to check every possibility.
There was precious little else they could do.

He remembered that during the assault on the station he had regretted that, as Cap’n, he was no longer in the thick of things.
Well, now his wish had been granted….

Their Flitter had been under way for over an hour. A steady throb of motors gave a slight acceleration toward the aft deck.
In these skewed hexagonal compartments this was a particularly awkward orientation, intended for some odd mech purpose.

Jocelyn pulled herself deftly over a tangle of U-crosssection pipes that emerged from the floor and arced into the outer hull.
Killeen peered into the mass of wires and mysterious electronic wedges that he had uncovered beneath a
floor hatch. He called up his Aspects—Arthur for the electronics craftsmanship of the Arcology era, former Captain Ling for
the starship lore of millennia earlier, and even Grey, aloof, sophisticated, so remote as to be nearly inaccessible. No matter
who he summoned, none of the ancient personalities offered anything useful. Ling came the closest.

The external entity’s means of controlling this craft may be insidious…note how none of your precautions prevented Mantis
from re-asserting itself, upon our arrival. Your mastery over Argo was illusory
.

“You mean we never stood a chance,” Killeen said bitterly. “Never did, never will.”

Long ago, before my time, before Grey’s, before even the epoch of the great Chandeliers, it is said that our ancestors once
challenged the mechs. Higher entities were forced to acknowledge our existence, rather than delegating our elimination to
minuscule mechanisms such as you knew on Snowglade
.

It was difficult for Killeen to picture a being like
Mantis
as “minuscule,” though Mantis itself had said that this was so. Killeen’ s mind could not encompass the heights Ling was
implying—heights once assaulted by humanity before the long, grinding fall.

As for your present problem, there is a simple solution. A way to prevent the outside entity from controlling this craft
.

“How’s that?”

By destroying its means of receiving instructions. Go outside and wreck the antennae
.

Killeen laughed so coarsely that Jocelyn looked up from her useless labor under the floorboards. “Already thought ’bout that.
We can’t
get
outside!”

Before Ling could respond he swept the irritating Aspect to the back of his mind. He tried again to call Shibo on comm.

Reception had improved since the last try, though it still faded in and out, washing her voice in soft static. To him it sounded
beautiful.

—How are you doing?—she asked, tense with concern.

“Survivin’. I miss you an’ Toby. How is he?”

—Toby’s fine. He’s up here on the Bridge with me and Cermo. We’re trackin’ you.—There was a pause.—You’re still headed for
rendezvous with the approaching ship. It’s hell just sitting here. Can’t budge
Argo
, come after you.—

“Did you try painting the hull with insulator? It might keep out whatever’s jammin’ the controls.”

—Yeasay. No good. It’s Mantis programs that’ve got us stuck here, embedded too deep.—Her level voice could not hide from him
her tight apprehension.—Looks like that method worked on the other Flitters, though. They’re under our control now. We’ll
have ’em charged up soon.—

Implied, but unspoken, was the fact that none would be ready in time to rescue Killeen and Jocelyn. Jocelyn reacted to this
by spitting on the cabin wall.

“All right,” Killeen said. “Shibo, I want you to form up the Family. Issue provisions. Full field gear.”

—For what?—

“For abandoning the station. Take the Family away.”

—But
Argo!
—

“We’ll have to abandon
Argo
too. Detach the farm
domes. We discussed that. They’re self-sustaining. Drag ’em along. But get out within twenty hours.”

—But we can defend the station!—It was Toby’s voice, rent with frustration, breaking in.

“Son,” Killeen said. “Get off the command comm.”

—I say we can
take
these damn mechs!—

Before Killeen could cut his son off, Shibo interjected agreement.

—Yeasay. We’ll stay with
Argo
, fight off anything that comes.—Shibo’s voice was filled with fierce commitment. Her motivation warmed him, but it frustrated
Killeen that he could not make her see.

Lieutenant Cermo’s forceful voice joined in.

—Fight higher-level mechs? From a
fixed
position? Crazy! Naysay!—

Shibo’s reply sounded uncertain.—We’ll sucker ’em in, jump ’em.—

—They’ll expect that!—Cermo spoke louder than necessary.

—These mechs’re puny!—Toby interrupted again.—We took ’em easy.—

Cermo’s reply was bitter.—Those were just night watchmen. Just wait’ll the Marauder class mechs show up. I tell you we can’t
fight things at that level. Not from fixed positions. At least not without help from something like the Mantis.—

—You Mantis-followers!—Toby grated.—Mantis’s mechs were gonna meet us here, you thought. Where were they? They got beat by
something else before we ever arrived.—

—Exactly my point! Whatever beat Mantis’s allies is gonna come back here soon. It’s already got th’ Cap’n.—

“Cermo’s right,” Killeen told them, glad that his second lieutenant was showing some sense. He was about to add
more praise when Cermo took a completely unexpected tangent.

—Thanks, Cap’n. That’s why I say we head right
now
for broken ground. Head for territory where we know how to fight, like in the old days, and where
we
can find allies.—

“You can’t mean…”

—Yeasay! Head for the surface.—

“No! Take the Flitters outward! You can reach the fourth planet. It’s got ice, carbon. We got some Aspects who ’member that
kind of life. You can set up domes.”

But Cermo cut in again.

—
Argo
brought us here for a
reason
, Cap’n. Some of us say let’s go down and find out what that reason is.—

“But those reasons may be obsolete! They
probably
are, if Mantis’s allies have lost. Anyway, what about the others in the Family? Those who
don’t
trust Mantis?”

That had always included the majority of
Argo’
s crew. Killeen had long counted on their support to overcome the mysticism, or gullibility, of the faction willing to put
its faith in the promises of a mech, even a “different” mech as unusual as Mantis. Killeen was confident peer pressure would
bring Cermo around.

But Shibo’s next words cut the deck from under him.

—The majority say we should stand an’ fight for the station,—she said in a low, bitter voice he could barely make out.—But
the Cap’n has convinced me we can’t. Given that, Cermo’s right.—

“No! Take the
Argo
. Run!”

—If we take the Flitters maybe I can find you later.—

“Not much chance I’ll be alive long. Somebody wants a look at Jocelyn ’n me. Don’t ’spect it’s just friendly interest.”

Cermo said,—Cap’n, we vote for goin’ down.—

“And I say you
don’t
.”

With less heat now Cermo sent,—The Mantis…—

“We’re masters of our own lives, dammit!” Killeen shouted.

—The Mantis had somethin’ in mind,—Cermo said stolidly.

“So what? Think it planned that cosmic string? Shibo! What’s it doing?”

In reply she sent a simulation picture that fluttered in his left eye.

The revolving hoop shaded the entire planet. From the small opening along the axis dark pencil-thin strands shot upward. Both
poles vented streams of matter. Yellow metal-lava struck vacuum and exploded into banks of fog. From the vapor came long,
thin threads.

“Looks like buildin’ somethin’,” Killeen said.

—Gutting the planet while they do it,—Shibo agreed.

Killeen said sharply, “You’ll do as I order. Shibo, you sounded the gathering call yet?”

Shibo replied reluctantly,—Yeasay.—

“Good. Now—”

—I got Flitters ready, too. They’re set up for easy destination programming. Files on the
Argo
showed me how. I’ve got them set for planet approach.—

Killeen saw bitterly that she had thought this through thoroughly. She could probably bring it off, too. Shibo was a wonder
at ferreting out mechmind ways. “Naysay! Something awful’s going on here. Get away!”

—Sorry, lover. You’re outvoted.—Shibo gave the words a lilt but he could feel her tension.

“As Cap’n I—”

—If you want legalisms, try this,—Shibo cut in sternly.—You’ve been shanghaied off. As acting officers we’re expressing the
Family’s decision.—

“Naysay! You can’t—”

—Listen!—Her voice suddenly flared with genuine anger. He could imagine her suddenly widened eyes, her clenched teeth. Emotions
seldom broke her calm surface but the effect was spectacular, like an unleashed force of nature.—We’ll try saving you. But
we’re holding with our dream.—

“Shibo, I want—”

—Lover, you
know
I can’t just sit here and do nothing.—

Killeen made himself pause. His frustration should be directed against whatever had seized this ship, not against this most
precious of all women. “All…all right. No way I can stop you, is there?”

Cermo answered with surprising warmth,—Naysay. None.—

“Where’ll you go?”

A pause. He imagined that she was holding herself in check too. The thin strand connecting them seemed to sing with unspoken
thoughts.—You…’member that signal from New Bishop?—

“Yeasay. Had human indices, you said.”

—I got a better fix on it. Voices. Near the equator. We’ll try for that.—

“Well…”

—There’re
people
down there. That convinced a lot of us. If we can’t defend
Argo
, we’ll go down and join our kin.—

It made sense. Killeen reluctantly admitted that Shibo and Cermo had logic and human fellowship on their side.

“The string, though!” he shouted, pounding the console. “How can you get past it?”

—It whirls round for a day or so, then stops,—Shibo said.—We’ll spread out from the station. When the string stops, we’ll
hit the atmosphere.—

“Too risky.”

—Lover…—

For a long moment they said nothing. The purr of static seemed almost like a background chorus to poignant, unspeakable thoughts.

“When…when’ll you leave?”

—Soon. We’re nearly ready. I…we’ll…try…pick you up…you…hide from whatever’s in that ship…if we can…get in close…otherwise…—

Her voice faded in and out. Killeen listened intently for some last contact with her. Finally he switched off the static and
realized he had been holding his breath.

Jocelyn looked at him expectantly. Killeen had no ideas and did not want to show it. He clamped down his jaw muscles, knowing
this gave him a stern look, but this time he valued it more because it compressed his helpless frustration.

“They want to keep us in here till…” Jocelyn plainly could not think of a way to finish.

“Yeasay. Till they can flush us out, step on us.”

“Haulin’ us out this far, maybe they just want get some idea ’bout what we are, ’fore they go into the station.”

“Seems reasonable. Mechs’re careful.”

“Even dead, we’ll give ’em info,” Jocelyn said flatly.

He saw her meaning. “Yeasay.”

“We better get out ’fore we arrive.”

Anger brimmed fresh in him. He needed to think but the blind rage seethed nearly beyond control. His hands ached to smash
and tear.

At that moment he saw the glimmer of an idea. Evolution’s mute legacy of hormones had made him get angry, and maybe that was
the right thing after all. Use his rage, yes.

“Let’s have some fun,” he said with a thin smile.

“Huh?”

“This ship’s got some onboard mind, even if we can’t reach it. Let’s give it a problem. A
big
problem.”