We finally figured out they must be leftovers from the final battle that tore through our solar system long ago. Survivors who made a devil’s bargain with the interstellar crystals. A battle machine would help one of the crystal fomite factions to win, by eliminating its competition. In return, that faction would repay the favor, once it took over the local civilization. In exchange for its help, the FACR might win a role in the new order.
Biologists claimed to see clear parallels in the way some natural diseases did their deadly business, with viruses and bacteria paving the way for each other. One exo-sociologist wagered that the Last Machine War-ravaging Sol System tens of millions of years ago-must have been triggered by the arrival of crystal message capsules. They likely infected some of the more ancient mechanical probes, swaying them with persuasive offers of immortality and propagation. This theory might explain the Night of the Lasers.
When it seemed likely that the Havana Artifact was about to win over humanity, uncontested, all the other fomites had to gamble everything to draw our attention-either sacrificing bits of themselves to detonate come-get-me signals underground, or emitting risky here-I-am flashes as they drifted overhead. But these FACR devices were out here waiting, after eons, to fight for one crystal lineage or another. To help one faction to get heard… or to blast others and keep them from making their pitch.
It all made a kind of Darwinian sense… or so the best minds explained, reminding everyone that evolution had ferocious logic.
But then, how can this one benefit by firing at us?
Eyeing the rate of rotation, she knew another question was paramount.
How am I gonna get out of here?
It wouldn’t suffice to just sidle sideways around the ancient girder, which was narrow and perforated in the other direction. And Gavin’s situation was probably even worse. We’ve got to do something soon.
“Warren. Has ibn Battuta scanned the debris field?”
“Yes, Tor, with passive telescopes. Their results are inconclusive. They have mapped the component rocks and sand clouds and report half a dozen anomalies that might possibly be hiding the shooter. With active radar they might pinpoint the resonance of refined metal-”
“Or else get confused by nickel-iron meteoritic material. Anyway, the instant they transmit active beams, the damned thing will realize we have an ally. It can shift position long before they get a return signal and are able to fire any kind of weapon. Six minutes light-turnaround is huge.”
“I can find no fault with your reasoning. Then perhaps our main option remains for me to emerge from shadow and come get the two of you. As you say, the machine may be reticent to do battle with a foe my size.”
“And what if we’re wrong? Suppose the damn thing fires at you?”
“Then I will engage it in battle.”
“You won’t get in the first shot. Or even the second.”
“Agreed. In a worst-case scenario, I calculate that-with excellent marksmanship-the FACR could take out my primary weapon, then attack my main drive units. But I still might position myself with vernier thrusters, so that you and Gavin could make it aboard. Even if I am rendered helpless, my innermost radiation shelter should keep you safe until help arrives.”
Another voice blurted out.
“Screw that! I can shut down for a month or two. But Tor would starve or go crazy in that time!”
She felt touched by her partner’s concern-the first time she recalled him ever talking that way.
“Thanks, Gavin. But don’t transmit. That’s an order.”
He went silent with a click… perhaps in time to keep the enemy from localizing him too accurately. Tor weighed her options.
On the positive side, the ibn Battuta might be a powerful ally, if the distant cruiser managed to catch their foe by surprise with a radar beam, just once, getting a clear position fix that would be obsolete before the signal even returned. Double that light delay, and you’ve effectively rendered the ship’s mighty weapons useless.
Then there was Warren Kimbel sitting much closer, but also much less formidable. And the Warren would need several minutes to emerge from the roid’s shadow, the whole time vulnerable to a first shot. Or several.
She took census of the robotic salvage drones. A dozen or so were still in decent shape, down here with her. Or else near Gavin.
And finally… there’s me.
Tor didn’t much like the plan taking shape in her mind. Frankly, it too well reminded her of the desperate measures she took long ago, alongside the brave man that her ship was named after, aboard a doomed zeppelin.
But I don’t see where there’s any other option.
And timing is really going to be critical.
Maybe I should have stayed home and remained a girl reporter.
“Okay,” Tor said, with a glance at the encryption monitor. “Here’s what we’re gonna do.”
Lurker Challenge Number Four
If you’ve been monitoring our TV, radio, and Internet-and the reason you haven’t answered is that you are studying us and have a noninterference policy, let’s say we understand the concept.
Examining more primitive species or cultures can seem to demand silence for a time, in order for observers not to interfere with the subject’s natural behavior. Your specific reason may be scientific detachment, or to let us enjoy our “innocence” a while longer, or perhaps because we are unusual in some rare or precious way. Indeed, we can imagine many possible reasons you might give for keeping the flow of information going in just one direction-from us to you-and never the other way. Similar rationalizations are common among human observers.
Of course, some of us might respond that it was cruel of you not to contact us during the murderous World Wars or perilous Cold War, when news of contact might have prodded us away from our near-brush with annihilation. Or that you should have warned us about the dangers of ecological degradation, or many other pitfalls. Or call it heartless to withhold advanced technologies that could help solve many of our problems, saving millions of lives.
In fairness, some other humans would argue that we have won great dignity by doing it all by ourselves. They take pride in the fact that we show early signs of achieving maturity by our own hard efforts. If your reason for silence is to let us have this dignity, that might make sense…
… so long as it isn’t simply an excuse, a rationalization, to cover more selfish motives.
To interfere or not? It’s a moral and scientific quandary that you answer by silently watching, to see if we’ll solve our problems by ourselves. (Perhaps we are doing better than you expected?) Your reasons may even have great validity.
Still, if you continue this policy, you cannot expect profound trust or gratitude when we finally overcome our hardships and emerge as star-faring adults without help. Oh, we’ll try to be friendly and fair. But your long silence will make it hard, at least at first, to be friends.
We understand cold-blooded scientific detachment. But consider-the universe sometimes plays tricks on the mighty. In some distant age, our roles may be reversed. We hope you’ll understand if our future stance toward you is set by your past-and-present behavior toward us.
75.
I am pondering her latest posted challenge-a tasty one that pierces closer to truth than some others-when sudden confusion erupts! Unaccustomed to abrupt news, our community of refugees stirs in a babble. Awaiter and Observer extend their sensors. They play back the sharp glitter of this attack… followed by a buzz and crackle of cipher-code as the humans confer urgently with their vessel.