Another minute or so passed. It was a long one. Each time we spoke, it took a fraction longer for the messages to be relayed, as we were moving farther apart at a rapid pace. Finally, their answer came.
“We will tell you all we know. We agree to an exchange of wisdom concerning the stars and the beings that move amongst them. But we would ask you one question first: when will the human herds return? When will you come back here, brothers, and remove all the machines from our worlds?”
I felt a sick pain in my stomach. Major Sarin had come near, and her eyes met mine. Was that an accusatory gaze? Was she reproachful, wanting to scold me? I could tell she was. She was wondering what I had promised these people who’d we had caused such great pain. They seemed to be under the impression we were allies, that we were trustworthy. Perhaps they’d sacrificed themselves in their millions for a misunderstanding.
I took several seconds to formulate my reply. What had I said to them originally? Anything and everything I could to get them to ally with us. I could hardly recall the words, but I was sure I had offered up some kind of alliance. Perhaps to them, an alliance meant the merging of two herds when they met upon a grassy plain. Perhaps in their minds I’d offered to become part of their herd, to become one with their people. I sighed and rubbed at my head and thought of Sandra in her box.
“We will come back, when we defeat the machines in our system. If we never return, it means we were wiped out. I cannot say when we will come back here to help you, because I cannot predict the future. Any knowledge you can provide us with will help a great deal, however. That much I can assure you.”
“Sir,” Sarin said, tapping at the screen. “There’s a big transmission coming to us. It’s binary, not voice. Looks like the language the Nanos use to communicated among themselves.”
“Is it coming from the Centaurs?” I asked.
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Let’s hook up a fresh brainbox. We’ll record the download and examine it later.”
The Centaurs were talking again, so I took up my headset and pressed it to my ear.
“We gift you our wisdom. We gift you the knowledge of our people and all those we have come into contact with.”
I madly waved for my staff to get onto recording this incoming data. It was raining gold, and I wanted everyone to grab a bucket and fill it now.
“Allied herds,” I said, feeling a bit sour as I spoke the words. I didn’t like how quickly I’d learned to manipulate these honest beings. I had a feeling they had no salesmen or con artists in their society. “We are honored by your gift. We will send you what we can in return.”
After I’d sent the message, I turned to Welter, Sarin and Gorski, who had just joined us on the bridge. He looked worn out. “I want you to upload one of our brainboxes to them.”
They stared at me for a second, then Sarin and Gorski got to work on it. Welter looked unhappy. “Is that wise, sir?”
“They are our allies,” I said. “They are giving us everything they have.”
“Yes, it would appear so,” Welter said, massaging his chin. “But that doesn’t mean it is in our best interest to hand over information to an alien we’ve only just come into contact with.”
“I’ve met them before. I fought with them years ago in the Nano ships.”
“Yes, of course,” Welter said as if my words were meaningless. Perhaps to him they were.
Sarin and Gorski had the files up and on the screen. Gorski worked with both hands, tapping on the file. Options came up, and he tapped in the frequency and correct port to transmit through. “Are you ready, sir?”
“Is the Centaur transmission still incoming?” I asked.
“Gigabytes per second, sir. And it shows no sign of letting up.”
I licked my lips hungrily. Such valuable intel…I felt almost greedy thinking of it. What treasures would we find in those files? I bet it would keep General Kerr and his Pentagon analysts busy for years to come if we could get it home.
“Colonel, if I might lodge an objection?” Major Welter asked.
“Talk to me-quickly.”
“They will know the precise location of Earth. They will know all about us. What if these beings give this information to another race? What if they hand all that over to the next alien that wanders by?”
I stared at him, thinking hard. He had a point. They were rather gullible. Still, I had to wonder if they would keep transmitting if we didn’t reciprocate. I wanted their data, even at risk of my own. I wondered what course I was setting myself and all humanity upon. I shrugged slightly; there was no way of knowing.
“Send it to them,” I ordered. “We said we would exchange data. They started transmitting first. If we can’t trust the first friendly race we meet, who are we going to trust?”
Gorski tapped the send option on the screen. The file began loading up. A green bar appeared and grew fractionally larger as seconds ticked by.
“We don’t know what they’ll do with it!” Major Welter insisted. He was leaning over the big screen now. His eyes were on the progress bar. He looked as if he wanted to smash it with his fist. “Couldn’t we edit it down first?”
“We don’t have time for that,” I said. “Listen, I understand your concerns. But we’ve got to start trusting someone, Major. We can’t go it alone out here. Big gains take big risks.”
Major Welter looked at me and smiled a sickly smile. “You’re nothing if not a risk-taker, Riggs.”
I snorted, taking the comment as a compliment. I wasn’t sure it was meant that way.
I keyed a new transmission to our Centaur friends: “I would ask as we depart if you have ever made contact with the Blues…by that I mean the people who created the Nanos.”
Another long delay. “They have no sky and no eyes with which to see it. They are a strange herd and a sad people. Some among them lack honor. There is much information about the people you speak of in the transmissions we have sent.”
These comments got me to thinking. I turned to Major Sarin. “Dial up the map of this system, please.”
She did it with deft taps. The interface was the same as the one we’d had in the command brick, fortunately. The screen was only about half the size, however. If I’d had time, I would have ordered the factories to make me a bigger one. The one thing I didn’t have, however, was spare time.
I looked at the system. The yellow star still sat in the center, burning with unusual stability. The hot planets hugged the star’s waist. Farther out was the band of six lovely, inhabitable worlds. Farther out was the lone gas giant and at the border of the system were the far-flung ice-balls.
My eyes ran to the gas giant. I’d always suspected the Blues came from a world like that one. Hydrogen-helium worlds like this were a fairly common variety of planet, I knew. This system was unusual for having only one of them.
“How long until we hit the ring?” I asked.
“Not long now, sir,” Sarin said.
“Fellow herds,” I said, “we of the human herds ask you for a clarification. You said the creators of the Macros have no eyes and no sky. We think they are from a world unlike yours and mine, a world of frozen hydrogen and helium. A world where there is no ground for the feet to rest upon. A world where it is forever dark with clouds. Are we right? Where is this planet? And did they create some of these machine beings?”
The answer came back after an agonizing period. “The people you speak of created all the machines. Their world bathes in the light of a pleasant star. The machines once served them, but that which once made them proud, they now avoid in mortal dread. They are our herd-brothers, as you have become.”
I listened to the flowery words, then had Major Sarin replay them twice. I thought hard, staring at the star map. We were close to the ring now. I thought I might have time for one more question.
“Their world bathes in the light of a pleasant star? You mean the Blues live in this star system, on the one gas giant world?”