“One more detail, Minister,” Julia said. “My ARM friends call Trinocs racially paranoid.”
Wonderful new neighbors for mankind, Sigmund thought.
“The speculation here is that the Trinocs also set out for the Fleet of Worlds. They wouldn’t want the Kzinti to take over the place.”
“Nor will the ARM,” Sigmund said. “What are their plans?”
“They won’t tell me. Need to know.” Julia smiled sadly. “What I need to know is how I’m getting home.”
Norquist-Ng tore his gaze away from the Trinoc. “Contact Nessus. Get a ride home from his friend.”
“I tried. No answer. If I had gotten through, the friend is from the Fleet. That’s where they’ll be going.”
Abandoning his shipmates without a word? That didn’t sound like Nessus. Something else was involved. Something Julia didn’t feel free to discuss. Sigmund said, “The Fleet of Worlds is about to become a war zone. It makes no tanj sense to go there, even if you can hitch a ride.”
She nodded. “That brings me to the offer that’s on the table.”
“Take down that hideous image,” Norquist-Ng said.
“Yes, Minister.” Julia did something else out of camera range, and the Trinoc vanished. “This ship, Koala, heads soon for Earth. They’ve offered to bring me.”
Sigmund turned to Norquist-Ng. “From what Julia has already learned, New Terra is more or less on their way. They can swing by, bring Julia home.”
“I’m not prepared to invite foreign warships here,” Norquist-Ng snapped.
“Then the captain goes to Earth.” Where, most likely, Julia will reveal — be made to reveal? — New Terra’s location.
Let her go to Earth or invite the ARM to New Terra? To judge from his sour expression, Norquist-Ng hated both his choices.
“Koala is a supply ship,” Julia said. “Unarmed.”
Norquist-Ng said, “Captain, can you transfer to another ARM ship, one remaining in your present vicinity? I’ll send a ship to get you.”
“Hold on, please.” She froze the image.
Sigmund tried to work through what the various militaries would be doing. It beat thinking about Julia stranded for the more-than-a-month a rescue ship would need to reach her. It beat wondering what he would have to do if Norquist-Ng thought to abandon one of his own people. That won’t happen, Julia. I won’t allow it.
The Kzinti had leapt first — no surprise there — but wouldn’t the ARM forces also head for the Fleet? They would have no difficulty finding an excuse: to share in the spoils, perhaps. Or to ally with the Puppeteers and cut out the other aliens. Or to avenge past Puppeteer meddling in human affairs. Sigmund guessed even the admirals didn’t know — beyond that they needed something to show for the blood and treasure already squandered at the Ringworld.
ARM, Patriarchy, Trinocs … every side was in the same bind. Things were looking bleak for the Puppeteers. Maybe that explained Nessus’ abrupt silence.
Then Julia was back. “No one will explain, but waiting here isn’t an option. I either go to Earth, or come home if you’ll welcome an ARM ship.”
“Aren’t Outsiders still nearby?” Norquist-Ng asked. “They must be. They don’t use hyperdrive. Maybe you can stay on an Outsider ship until I can get a ship to you.”
“They’re creatures of liquid helium, living near absolute zero. What kind of guest quarters do you suppose they’ll have?” Turning from the holo, Sigmund locked eyes with Norquist-Ng. Do the right thing, Minister.
“A supply ship,” Norquist-Ng said at last, turning away. “Not a warship.”
“Correct, Minister.”
“Very well. I would like to speak with Koala’s captain. I’ll extend him an invitation to New Terra and you can help him find his way.”
28
A game of cat and mouse, the Jeeves element labeled its duties. Citizen-programmed extensions recoiled at the metaphor — except for the few Kzinti-inspired software modules, all of whom approved. The foundational components of the defensive grid, entirely algorithmic, did their jobs oblivious to such semantic disputes.
And so, from several levels of awareness, Proteus monitored for any possible threat all communications and every ship movement within a half light-year of the Fleet.
Most alien communications were highly encrypted; even with his recently expanded capacity, Proteus had yet to crack the alien codes. Nonetheless, years spent observing the message streams had paid off. Statistical analyses yielded ways to separate significant messages — their content still encrypted and unintelligible — from the far more common meaningless filler. Traffic patterns among the significant messages imparted their own clues.
Such as the message bursts that presaged alien ship redeployments …
“THE KZINTI ARE READY to try something,” Proteus sang.
In an instant, Achilles woke. He had fallen asleep in his private office. “What thing? When?”
An astrogation graphic opened over his desk. To the Fleet’s rear and toward the galactic core, near the border of the worlds’ mutual singularity, a region glowed. “From signal analysis, at least three Patriarchy ships will appear soon in this region. I lack the information to be more precise about timing.”
Three? That would be almost half the Kzinti presence in and around the Fleet. Achilles peered into the highlighted region and saw only a Kzinti supply ship. He zoomed the image. “Why there? Other than a supply ship, it is empty.”
“Empty of ships,” Proteus agreed. “Regularly traveled by my probes and drones.”
Aliens’ ship movements around the Fleet had increased since the Ringworld first disappeared. Amity reported that Kzinti and then Trinocs had abandoned the Ringworld system. Baedeker — and after such a long absence, from where had he appeared? — claimed to know that those Kzinti were charging toward the Fleet. Now a Kzinti military action locally?
“They intend to capture a drone,” Achilles sang.
“That is my conclusion. Minimally, the Kzinti are probing for vulnerabilities. I surmise they also want to inspect my technology.”
“Is Clandestine Affairs aware?”
“They have been notified,” Proteus sang.
“Can the Kzinti capture a drone?”
“I can prevent it.”
Achilles took brushes from his desk and began primping, the rhythm of grooming helping him to concentrate. An alien confrontation might suffice to panic Horatius into a resignation, and what could be nobler — especially if the Kzinti were coming — than seeing to it that the right Citizen became Hindmost?
“Excellent,” Achilles sang. “See to it that the Kzinti fail. Spectacularly, if possible.”
PROTEUS OBSERVED:
Three Patriarchy courier ships dropped from hyperspace near the supply ship. Each emitted a faint hyperwave ping. Processing the echoes, using thrusters, the four ships edged toward the vertices of a square. On the third round of pings, their square was perfect.
It formed an impromptu hyperwave-radar array.
The four ships pinged again, these pulses concurrent and more energetic. The ships vanished, only to reappear, in a tight tetrahedral formation, on the very edge of the Fleet’s gravitational singularity. Their normal space velocity had them hurtling toward the brink, to where engaging hyperdrive became suicide. Boxed in at the center of the tetrahedron: a Fleet defensive drone.