“No,” it said at last.
I thought about that. There were only two specifics I’d given it: an estimate of speed and range. I wasn’t sure which had gotten a firm response out of the Nano, but I was glad one of them had.
“If I maintained a range of one mile from your fleet and traveled past your fleet at a relative speed of one hundred thousand miles per hour, would you fire on me?”
“Yes.”
I frowned. Was it the specific speed that was tripping its defensive code, or something else? Proximity seemed to definitely be a factor. I could have circled the planet and approached from the far side, but I wasn’t sure yet if that would save me.
“Could you just list all the conditions which would cause you to fire upon my ship?”
There was no response for several seconds, then: “Query generated too many responses. Processing aborted.”
I shifted in my chair and tried to think. “If I approached the planet, but was out of your range as I did so, would you move to my position to intercept my ship?”
“Yes.”
I began to think I was getting the picture, and I didn’t like it. Alamo didn’t want me to pass her by. Her fleet was at a boundary line, and if I took a step over it, they were going to attack. It didn’t matter how fast I went or how slow. It didn’t matter if I fired or not. It didn’t even matter if I crossed the line on the other side of the world. If I got to close to the gas giant, they would attack.
“Socorro,” I said, “reduce speed and halt in far orbit over Eden-12.”
The ship slewed around to direct its engines toward the world I was fast approaching. I’d been using repelers to gently reduce my approach velocity, but now I was worried. There might be more defensive triggers, other than the one I thought I had uncovered. What if they decided I’d crossed some other line over the next hour and flew out here to meet me? That was how they’d behaved when defending Earth from Macro invaders, I recalled. They did nothing until a certain threshold had been met, then they all launched in unison, formed a swarm, and attacked the target relentlessly until it was destroyed, or they were.
Socorro’s engines applied significant thrust. I was aware of the G-forces, but they didn’t make the flesh of my face distort. My vision didn’t blur. There was no heavy rush of blood in my temples or difficulty breathing. Most of the time, I was able to forget about the changes the Microbes had made to my body. But right now, I could tell the difference.
I’d been avoiding mirrors lately, as I knew I’d lost most of my hair. I didn’t even want to know how much of it was gone, or if it would ever grow back or not. What was done was done for now. After this mission, if I should be so lucky as to survive it, I figured I could spend some time returning my body and my appearance back to normal.
“Alamo,” I said loudly over the noise of the engines. “Let me see if I have interpreted your requirements: are there any circumstances by which I will be allowed to pass your current orbital distance from Eden-12, without triggering defensive action?”
“Yes.”
“What would allow me to pass your defensive perimeter?”
“Kyle Riggs must become command personnel.”
Having my answer, I cut off the channel and thought about it as I made my final approach. A few hours passed, and I continued my hard deceleration.
The approaching surface of Eden-12 was a misty greenish-white. At the outer limits of the atmosphere, conditions were surprisingly dense and warm. The world was closer to the local star than gas giants in our system, but that could not entirely explain the warmth. I figured the unusual level of thermal flux must be generated somewhere within the planet’s interior.
The temperature of the world’s thick envelope of gases was something close to that of ice water. The upper levels were a mix of helium and hydrogen with traces of methane. Being denser, the methane became more common as you went down. Ammonia and hydrocarbons were found increasingly as you went deeper still, but our sensors reported no data past a depth of about three hundred miles. I would have to dive into that stormy soup to find out what was farther down.
The ammonia worried me, as it was a powerful alkaline substance, but Marvin had assured me my new body would survive it, unless I ingested or breathed a large quantity. Still, I didn’t relish exposing my flesh to the stuff. I’d never liked the smell.
I finally came to a full stop some two hundred miles from their line. I didn’t try to fly around them, or sneak past. I faced them and they faced me. Nothing was more patient than a machine, and they didn’t even flinch as I examined them at what I’d surmised was a safe distance.
The Nano fleet circled around the equatorial region of the gas giant at an orbital range of about a hundred thousand miles above the upper atmosphere. There were a few moons here, drifting by, and a powerful magnetosphere.
I felt the urge to warn off the Nano ships, to insist they make way-but that could be a critical mistake, as they were set to trigger upon perceiving any hostile intent. I sat there for a time, trying to think up ways to become “command personnel” again, at least in the artificial minds of these ships. In the end, I couldn’t come up with any easy gimmicks, tricky logical arguments or the like. I knew what had to be done, so I opened a channel to the waiting ships.
“Alamo,” I said, adjusting my battle suit over my new, thicker skin. “Are you seeking command personnel?”
“That is my current mission,” the ship said.
“Why haven’t you gone down closer to the planetary surface and sought a suitable being for recruitment?”
“The action you describe is prohibited.”
“Ah,” I said, nodding. It sounded to me like the Blues had put a failsafe into the software of these ships. Maybe that was why they were just sitting up here, not doing anything. Like an elevator with an obstacle in the doorway, they just sat in a loop, not able to continue their program until something in their environment changed.
“Would I be suitable as command personnel?”
The answer took a few seconds. “You are not native to this world.”
“No,” I agreed. “But I’m here, and I’m a biotic. Isn’t that your mission? To select a biotic from the local environment?”
“Yes.”
“Pick me then.”
“You are unavailable.”
I chuckled. “I’m not going to play hard to get. I’m getting out of this ship and flying toward your line. I’m not going to cross it. I will be in easy range of your arm though, should you decide to reach for me.”
Alamo made no response. Thinking maybe Sandra had been right about the poor state of my mental health, I disconnected my suit from the ship and clanked to the airlock. My helmet made a steady hissing sound as it blew oxygen over me. In space, things are either deathly silent, or shockingly loud. There didn’t seem to be many in-betweens. The oxygen hiss was one of those rare exceptions, however. Spacers such as myself came to be comforted by it over time. Breathable air was a wonderful thing to have in the void.
The airlock dissolved into a shower of silver beads, and I stepped out of my perfectly good ship. I had miles to fly, so I tilted my repellers and began the long dark journey.
Nothing happened for several minutes. I didn’t fly too fast, as I didn’t want to shoot in the middle of their swarm and cause them to misinterpret my approach. It would be a shame to have come this far only to have them burn me down at point-blank range.
I couldn’t even see the ships at first, they were so far off. All I could see was the gauzy green world. My God, it was huge! It filled my entire field of vision.
Finally, I reached a range of about a mile from their line. I felt nervous sweat tickle at my skin. I could see them now, dozens of them. They weren’t lined up, but rather were scattered in a shotgun pattern between me and the planet. I slowed and regarded them. No one moved for a few seconds. The oxygen hissed in my helmet, and I cleared my throat. I opened a channel and hailed the ships again.