Their population multiplied, but they became too lazy to work, letting the machines do everything. Until one group realized that this indolence was destroying them, and departed. That was fifty thousand years ago. The machines have been searching for them ever since, to serve them too, but they don't want to be found, because they don't want to be served."
"Remarkable," Filia said. "So why are the machines destroying all other living species?"
"We conclude they are systematically eliminating any species among which the departed Makers might hide.
They will not serve any but the Makers, but mean to serve all of them."
Filia shook her head. "This makes little sense to me. But I am not a machine."
Havoc glanced at Opaline. "Perhaps you have an insight. Can you make sense of it?"
Opaline was nervous about expressing her unimportant opinion, but had to answer when Havoc asked. "Maybe—maybe they are communicating with the Makers, in their fashion. Sending them a message. That they will destroy everything until the Makers return to be served. Then they will stop."
Havoc exchanged a significant glance with Filia. "Sense," he said.
"Sense," Filia echoed.
"Opaline, assuming this is true, what should we do about it?"
"Find the escaped Makers. Tell them to return to the machines, for the sake of the galaxy. It might be the easiest way to end this war."
He nodded. "This is surely why the machines gave us their history. They want us to find the Makers for them. They know that Glamors might accomplish what they can't."
"We must search," Filia agreed. "But if we find the Makers, will they cooperate? They surely already know what is happening."
"Some persuasion may be required," Havoc said grimly.
"But—" Opaline began, then stopped, abashed.
"Speak," Havoc said.
"I just thought that maybe—maybe the machines only told you they want to serve, so you would help them. Maybe they just want to find the Makers so they can destroy them. Because they are the ones who rejected the machines."
"And the first story was the true one," Havoc said. "They seek to make dupes of us."
Filia approached her. "Havoc can't kiss you, because that would get you all worked up and frustrated. But maybe I can." She kissed Opaline, and there was the crackle and sparkle as their lips touched. Opaline received a jolt of magnetic pleasure. "Appreciation for your insight, Opaline. We shall consider it carefully before acting." She stepped away, leaving Opaline half stunned. She had no taste for love with women, but this creature could probably seduce her if she tried.
"We shall indeed," Havoc said. "Meanwhile we shall continue opposing the machines. It is time for the test."
Havoc showed the way to a small stand where half a dozen small chips of wood rested on the surface.
"Now the chips should move to the right, then away from us," Havoc said. "In half a minute."
They watched. The chips moved to the right, then away. That was all.
"Oak did it!" Opaline exclaimed. "From fifty light years away!"
"I detected no magnetic force," Filia said. "How does he do it?"
"We conjecture he adapts gravity," Havoc said. "Borrowing from its future timeline at the specific site, compressing it, so that the force focuses on that spot, now. We are equally impressed with his ability to sense the objects, so that he can touch them correctly. This, too, must be instantaneous, bypassing the limitations of magic and physics. It is a very special talent. We do not believe it can be blocked. Opaline has been working with him, developing it. We owe this success to her."
Opaline was silent, but she glowed internally because of the praise for Oak and herself. She had long since appreciated that while Oak's conscious mind was simple, his ability was unique.
"Your prime weapon against the machines is ready," Filia said. "We must celebrate."
Of course that meant more sex, and Opaline, flush with the success of the test, was more than willing. This time Opaline kissed Havoc's face while Filia addressed his member. When that member spouted, Opaline felt his pleasure and went into her own climax, triggered by the kiss. Her body did not care how he got his orgasm; it still gave her leave to join it. There were ways in which his kiss was more potent than his penis.
Filia no longer seemed at all strange. She was just another of Havoc's mistresses of the moment, every bit as lovely, smart, and magical as the others.
After that, Havoc made ready to depart. Opaline went to join him, but he demurred. "I will be making several trips back and forth, to set up alternate tests. You might as well remain here until all are done."
"But I have no knowledge of this culture," Opaline protested. "I suspect I can't even breathe outside this dome. Maybe you should take me home and leave me there."
"Not until Weft is done with Oak," he said, and vanished.
"He is thoughtless," Filia said. "He is male."
Opaline smiled ruefully. "I love him, but he does frustrate me. I don't want to be a burden here."
"I will give you a tour. We can converse."
"But you surely have other business."
Filia addressed her squarely. "I am Queen of Filament, and a Glamor. I have no more important business at the moment than safeguarding you, for you are promoting the weapon that will defeat the machines."
"But I am nothing!"
"Nothing once removed. Your human being Oak is the secret weapon we must have. You guide and support him. Without you he can't function. For this purpose you become the most important creature in the living galaxy."
"I can't believe that!"
"Nor do you need to. We believe it, and will assist you accordingly. May I show you around our planet?"
Opaline was at a loss how to handle this. "Maybe if you have an assistant who isn't busy."
"You are painfully modest, a considerable contrast to a Glamor. I appreciate why Havoc likes you. This way."
Opaline followed her to a small bubble with two seats. They sat in these, and the bubble angled up and through a vent in the dome. The alien landscape spread out below them: metal spires and cubes. "Wonder!"
"We are a semi-living species," Filia said. "Our essence is alive, but our larger forms are composed entirely of shaped bands of filaments, as you have seen. Regardless, we side firmly with the living cultures, because the machines will destroy us otherwise."
Opaline, trying to stave off an overload of impressions, fixed on one thing. "You are a Glamor?"
"The Glamor of filings," she agreed. "We have other Glamors, but they are busy elsewhere."
"And Havoc—you are not at all his species. Do you really enjoy sex with him?"
"Confirmation. He is a Glamor. There is a camaraderie of association among Glamors that rises above species, with a strong sexual component. Glamors have sex together, if it is even remotely feasible. Fortunately I am able to assume a shape to accommodate him."
"Other alien Glamors want sex? I mean, with other species?"
"Affirmation. It is in our makeup. It is almost as though we are our own species, apart from our physical species.
We are curious about our origins, which are relatively recent. No Glamor is older than several of your centuries.
What triggered our appearance so widely across the galaxy? We have no answer."
"I wonder—could it be that the common threat of the machines evoked the Glamors? To fight the machines?"
"Perhaps. Yet there needs to be a mechanism. Many Glamors appeared before the threat of the machines was generally known. So it seems coincidental. But we don't trust coincidence."
"I—I need to warn you of something," Opaline said. "The machines—I am a synthetic human, made by the machines to gather information about the culture. They can read my mind, when they come close. You must not tell me anything you don't want the machines to know."