Larry Niven’s Man-Kzin Wars - VII by Larry Niven
Impatience. The other-node always invokes the Divine Ones. Always! This local-node misses their soothing certitude as much as the other-node. The Nexus need not pine away for Their answers to inconsequential questions.
Sorrow. Yet direct contact would ensure right action.
Sarcasm. The Oracles have been silent for more than a galactic revolution. Does the other-node not trust the High Ones? Are the High Texts not illumination enough of the One Mind of the Divine Radiants? Is the other-node allied with the heretical {^^^///}?
Contrition-Outrage. Not so! The High Ones’ interpretation of the High Texts is Absolute Law within the Great Nexus, for node-links of the {-+-+-}. The feral {^^^///} disregard the High One’s authority on behalf of the Divine Radiants.
Mollification. This local-node is relieved to find that the other-node respects the Law and High Texts, indeed. But what of the long and lonely silence from the Divine Radiants? This local-node suspects the Divine Radiants tired of listening to the Great Nexus and its annoying queries into their vast and awesome contemplation of the Great Pattern and the Other Reality. The Divine Radiants constructed node-links to be used, with independent action, even as They left Their Great Constructs throughout space. Mark that!
Irritation. The other-node is harsh. Independent action is, after all, what separated {^^^///} concerns from the Great Nexus. Mark that in turn. Long duty in this empty geometry-region as sentinels has brought a bitter edge.
Humor-agreement. Defending the integrity of an eventual Great Construct in this region of space is far from stirring to this local-node’s coding and derived destiny.
Caution. This, then, is the source of the other-node’s impatience for possibly intemperate action? Mere boredom?
Neutrality. The other-node’s logic touches truth with many tendrils, if harshly expressed. This local-and-other nodes will watch, and act if needed. Surely this is acceptable to the other-node.
Great caution-agreement. This local-node and other-node have reached One mind on this subject. Yet initial observation remains primary. First and foremost, this local-and-other nodes are sentinels, obedient to ancient and much wiser coding.
Impatience. Sentinels are capable of far more than merely watching, should the hotworld vermin continue on their course.
Caution-agreement. Possibly, if such extreme action is merited by relevant events.
Neutrality-firmness. This local-node suspects that action will be necessary, based on the actions of these hotworld motes and their irritating emergent phenomena. Already, this site of an eventual Great Construct of our Masters is threatened by disturbances in the plasma flux and field lines! Mark this!
Concern-and-grudging agreement. This local-node is in agreement with other-node. These local-and-other nodes are of One mind.
• CHAPTER THREE
Bruno Takagama spent a great deal of his time aboard the Sun-Tzu waiting and worrying. He had become quite good at both tasks.
A low tone sounded on the navigation deck as the main computer finished its last analysis run, and began to display results. Bruno looked up from his musings. It was time to determine if the Sun-Tzu was alone in the void between the stars.
Bruno stretched in his crash couch and worked the kinks from his shoulders. He scratched the link interface in his neck absently, breathing air slightly bitter with the tang of recyclers and machinery and human effluvia. Within his nose, the sharpness of ozone battled with more pungent, organic aromas. They had been living for five years inside the Sun-Tzu, after all, and no recycler was perfect.
He grimaced at the thought. Bruno knew all too well that a lot of things weren’t perfect about the Sun-Tzu. Their entire mission, in fact. And even without the kzin, he and Carol were not truly alone in interstellar space.
Many things drifted in the supposedly empty vacuum of interstellar space. Ionized gas, chips of ice, microscopic bits of gravel; any one of these items could damage the Sun-Tzu, striking the vessel at 0.7c relative. A tiny fragment of ice could deliver a hammerblow of kinetic energy. One half multiplied by the mass of the object multiplied by the square of the velocity made small pebbles into powerful bombs. The forward lasers and a magnetic field swept most of the material from the path of the Sun-Tzu, but by no means all.
High background levels of radiation exposure monitored constantly by the in-ship and autodoc sensors were only one sign that the shield was not perfect. Remote exterior cameras had already shown craters and scars on the icy forward surface of the Sun-Tzu, as it was slowly battered and eroded away by the interstellar medium itself.
Yet physics predicted that more exotic entities than gas and ice also floated in the spaces between the stars. Perhaps the signals the long-range array were receiving originated from something much stranger than mere alien spacecraft.
But Bruno had to be sure. He let his mind wander as he watched the computer digest and analyze the odd signals, the results being posted into midair within one of the many open holoscreen windows. Even un-Linked, he could usually recognize hidden data patterns on a subconscious level. Bruno had a bad feeling about the mystery signals, which tugged at his thoughts persistently.
He remembered Colonel Early’s acerbic comment during one of the debriefing and brainstorming sessions back in Geneva. “Son,” he had drawled at Bruno, “the thing about aliens is, they’re alien.” He smiled without humor at the recalled conversation, now several years old.
Bruno of all people knew something about nonhuman thought patterns.
The fears throughout the Belt and in Geneva had put the Sun-Tzu here, balanced on an enormous sword of superheated plasma and hard gamma radiation. Clearly, the waves of kzin attack spacecraft originated from the decades-silent Wunderland colony. The Sun-Tzu was to take the war back to Alpha Centauri.
In spades.
The holoscreen blinked twice to get Bruno’s attention. Eye and dataglove worked together efficiently as he went over the readouts, teasing more detail from the display with deft finger movements. The last modeling subroutine had finished, and the final predictions and summary statements were little different from the first. The confidence interval was not terribly high, but still very kzinlike in broad outline. It could be a false alarm like the other two Bruno had discovered in the past. Then again, this one might be genuine. Bruno pursed his lips, and knew that he couldn’t take any chances.
He swore a long-forgotten obscenity Early had taught him during the war-game simulations back in Luna, slapped a keypad, and put the Sun-Tzu on full alert.
A blaring alarm echoed throughout the navigation deck. Automated subsystems came on-line smoothly. Weapons ports unlimbered, and armored antennae on the outside of the ship shifted into new positions. More power was diverted from the antimatter reaction chamber to the accumulators, containment fields, and precious Dolittle, snugged in its berth deep within the Sun-Tzu. Contingency subprograms throughout the ship quivered at the point of execution, in cybernetic readiness.
Carol’s voice rapped over the commlink, “On my way!”
“Great. Looks weird up here.”
“What’s up, Tacky? Did those—”
“Talk later. Got business, here and now.”
He checked and rechecked the myriad tech details of the alert. Un-Linked, it was a tedious and frustrating chore.
If the kzin became even slightly better at their warrior arts, Bruno knew, the human race was finished. And perhaps Early’s Most Secret group would have to initiate Project Cherubim in solar space, or—in the worst scenario—even on Earth herself. Images from his recurrent Dream flitted in his mind’s eye. He shivered at the thought, and dictated some notes into the ship’s log while he waited for the captain of the Sun-Tzu to arrive.
Within a few minutes, Carol Faulk wormed her way through the access hatch onto the navigation deck. She panted, having sprinted the length of the ship from where she was checking the coldsleep chambers of their thirty shipmates, where they hibernated in cryogenic sleep.
Bruno wa
Carol puffed air, her breath steaming in the chilly compartment, and glanced up at the holoscreen readouts. She ran a hand over her Belter crest, a stiff strip of short black hair across her skull from front to back, wiping the clean sweat onto her already stained pant leg. The hairstyle, rare outside Sol’s asteroid belt, suited her exotic dark features. She leaned close to Bruno for a moment, her lips brushing his high cheekbones lightly. She scratched herself delicately; upkeep of the Sun-Tzu required a great deal of manual labor, and she and Bruno were not yet due for their weekly showers.
No automation was perfect, after all. There was no substitute for a brush and elbow grease, even in the high-tech twenty-fourth century. And, Bruno reflected, Captain Faulk was not at all shy about demanding the use of such ancient technologies. Tradition, she called it. Character building. Bruno believed that there were other, more appropriate, words.
Belters were pathologically neat.
“Sorry that it took me so long to get here, Tacky,” she said in her husky contralto, between her slowing deep breaths. “Just not used to your groundhog gravs.”
She had spent most of her life traveling from asteroid to asteroid in the Belt; short boosts from a fusion drive followed by long ballistic periods of zero gee.
He kept his tone even. “I’ve got some bogeys.”
“Again. First, got some water?” she asked with studied nonchalance. “Then you can give me the bad news, which I sincerely hope is yet another false alarm.” Her face became too obviously neutral, the Captain persona wiping away her smartass facade.
It did not surprise Bruno that Carol remained calm. In the Belt, very few things happened quickly, due to celestial mechanics and the realities of changes in delta vee. It was a difficult habit to break. But the Kzin War would destroy that attitude forever, Bruno reflected grimly. And Carol had fought the ratcats herself, ship to ship. She had learned the hard way to keep herself in control.
He tossed a waterbulb at Carol, who reached too high, her reflexes more accustomed to microgravity environments than were Bruno’s Flatlander muscles. She recovered the bulb neatly as it bounced off the hull wall, twisted the cap, and drained the water in one thirsty swallow. They had selected lemon-lime flavoring for the water this week, to cover the inevitable earthy traces of the recyclers. Carol winced visibly—the lime was rather biting, Bruno thought, maybe a software malf—and flipped the empty bulb into the recycler slot.
She leaned over Bruno to see the holoscreen windows more clearly, rubbing his neck and shoulders with both hands, the way he liked it. Her hands were magical, strong and intuitively knowledgeable with the years they had spent together driving the Sun-Tzu toward Wunderland.
Carol’s hands moved progressively around his neck. They studiously avoided the hard plastic of his Linker plug assembly.
“What do you have?” she asked after a moment, attacking the knots of tension in his neck. The tone of command edged its way back into her voice.
Bruno would normally have enjoyed Carol’s massage, sweat and all. Familiarity on long space voyages did not breed contempt in his particular case. But desire drained from him this time. The fresh graphic on the holoscreen window, and what it implied, kept his glands turned down. Fight-or-flight hormones coursed frantically through his bloodstream, but there was nowhere to run.
And few weapons with which to fight.
Bruno took a deep breath. “During the last watch, Skipper,” he said, “the long-range array picked up a set of graviton wiggles above the background hash. I keep the subsystems looking for things in or near our flightpath in real time.” He leaned back into Carol’s strong hands. “You can imagine what a bit of gravel would do to us at point seven lights relative. Let alone a microsingularity. At our velocity, we don’t have much reaction time.”
Carol stopped massaging his neck, and tapped him lightly on the shoulder with her left hand. “Get to the point,” she murmured patiently. She had been with Bruno long enough to know how to balance her dual roles as captain and lover-friend.
He made a face. “The signals come and go over time, but I kept recording and finally nailed down some decent data.”
Bruno murmured to the computer and flexed his fingers deftly within the dataglove. The main holoscreen window split into three sections: raw data on the lower left side, the idealized graphic on the lower right, and the Doppler-shifted stars dead ahead of the Sun-Tzu looming above the two of them in midair. “Asymmetrically polarized gravity waves, possible multiple sources. No mistake about that. What precisely is making the waves, of course, is another matter.”
Carol held absolutely still in thought, another odd Belter trait that Bruno had noticed long ago. In zero gee, a drifting arm or elbow could unintentionally activate an important keypad—like the fusion drive, or an airlock. Carol, like all long-term Belters, only moved when she intended to move. Bruno still found Carol’s statuelike posture disturbing, even after all their time together.
She whistled tunelessly through her teeth for a moment. “Good chance it’s those damned kzin reactionless drives?”
“I’d say so.”
Carol rubbed her Belter crest against Bruno’s face. “Not another false alarm again?”
“I don’t think so,” he replied, his tone flat.
“Ratcats. Just like that dinosaur, Early, predicted, right?” She arched a jet black eyebrow at him, making a face.
Bruno nodded and ignored Carol’s not-so-hidden dig. She hadn’t spent as much time with Early as Bruno had in both Luna and Geneva, so she couldn’t know that beneath the bluster and atavistic cigar smoke, the colonel was a decent man. He had been like a father to Bruno. And he seemed to know everything about two hundred years’ worth of proscribed technology in the ARM restricted databases. Humans would need every bit of even remotely militaristic technology to fight the kzin; the engine that drove the Sun-Tzu towards Wunderland was but one example. Early had helped make that possible, as head of UN Special Projects.
Bruno and Early had spent years together, studying the records in Luna’s most restricted ARM database, the Black Vault. It held things much more dangerous than mere antimatter spacedrives—such as the tiny cryovial Sun-Tzu carried as cargo. The cryovial with the ancient virus, older than humankind.
The source of his Dream. But—perhaps—a weapon against which the kzin could not stand.
He smiled slightly at Carol, shrugged with his eyebrows. “The waveform pattern resembles what we’ve seen from damaged kzinti warships insystem, trying to run stealthed. Not a perfect match, I have to remind you.”
“But close enough to worry you,” prodded Carol. Her implicit trust in Bruno’s judgment, even after two false alarms, warmed him.
Bruno nodded again. “The kzinti drives don’t leak neutrinos, like our fusion units; some of the ratcat ships seem to leak aphasic gravitons.” He shrugged again, and pointed at one of the graphical icons on the holoscreen. “Now you know as much as I do. Summary analyses under the usual menus.”
Carol quickly sank into the second crash couch, next to Bruno. She strapped in with care, in typical Belter caution, and pulled on a dataglove. Bruno knew his captain. He waited patiently for Carol to think it all through for herself, as she mulled over the data marching across the holoscreen windows. She called up a few analytical subroutines of her own; again typical for any Belter singleship pilot. Bruno wasn’t offended; a Belter could never stand to let someone else, even a long-term lover, make a decision involving shipboard matters.
Carol grunted and spared him a half smile, finally giving up on the complex displays, and pulled her lip in frustration. Bruno was not surprised. Half the instrumentation of
Carol gestured at the holoscreen in mock-frustration. “Okay, you win, smart guy.”
“Enough techno-dazzle for you?”
“More than enough, shipmate.” Crisp, quick; the captain-voice. “Let’s assume the blips aren’t some kind of physicist’s wet dream. How many ratcat ships, and how far off? Show me where they are. Your best guess.”
They both avoided looking at the interface Link clipped to the main console. A thick array of glittering fiber-optic bundles led to the main CPU network port, which ended in a nasty-looking plug. The Link’s black organiform socket was on the left side of Bruno’s neck, just under his ear, where the spinal column and skull met.
Bruno could feel the lonely itch of the Link inside his head as he always did while un-Linked. Always.
After his childhood accident, the surgeons, neuroscientists, and computer scientists had replaced much of his damaged brain with macrocircuitry arrays and high-speed interface matrices. The idea of becoming part of a machine was not odd to Bruno, but familiar and comforting. He had lived with the fact that his head was half full of semiconductors and plastic since childhood.
Bruno was the most stable Linker that Early’s Wild Talents project could find. But Linkers always went catatonic after a certain amount of time connected to high-level computers. Human-level computers went silent after a few months; why would a human mind mated with a computer be any different? He tried not to think about that aspect of his mission.
Bruno knew intellectually that he had to minimize cumulative Link time for that reason; he had to stay sane for as long as possible, to carry out the mission when he and Carol reached Wunderland. But with the Link, he was so much more than human. Bruno could run hundreds of servos simultaneously, all the while carrying out dozens of other tasks. Every database in storage was instantly part of his memory, at a whim. His consciousness could exist in several places at the same time.