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 a 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 waited for her to catch her breath. He looked at her, appreciating the way that Carol's formfitting purple shipsuit clung to her tall and Belter-lanky frame. Long muscles bunched and moved agreeably under the fabric. Even amid a crisis, she could snag his attention on a noncerebral level. He wondered if the kzin were as sexual as humans. That hardly seemed possible.