"What do you think that is?" Barendts was pointing through the window.
Something long and threadlike rose past the sub. It couldn't have been more than a few millimeters thick and when the floodlights hit it, it shone pale white. But outside the lights, it glowed pale green against the darkness.
"Is there supposed to be indigenous life here?" asked Barendts.
"I have no idea. We never got to that part of the tour." They watched as more of the threadlike things passed. They seemed benign enough.
"Anyway," said Barendts, "The R.E.'s taking a beating. They can't exempt their own ships from the economy, after alclass="underline" even the Banshee has to keep up her micropayments for all the shipboard systems. They're living on credit right now, but if the ship stays here in slow space too long, they'll run out of credit… and the whole ship'll just shut down."
Michael stared at him. "You're joking."
"If a ship can operate without oversight from the Economy, it can be used to set up an independent colony," said Barendts with a shrug. "Lots of military ships would join us in a second, if they weren't utterly dependent on the Economy."
Michael laughed without humor. It made sense, in a sick sort of way. "They used to say, back home, that the R.E. only survives by continuing to expand. The core worlds are utterly dependent on revenue from the colonies to function."
"Yeah. An ecologically sustainable economy can't require surpluses. The R.E. does. So it has to keep growing to exist. If places like Chandaka join us, the core worlds stop dead just like the Banshee would. The Rights Owners would either have to give up their franchises, which they won't do, or else… no money, no transactions, no operating machinery."
"Billions would die," said Michael.
"If we don't get to them in time, yes." Barendts didn't look too concerned. "They made their bed, they'll have to lie in it. But you see, that's what Crisler's trying to prevent. If we win, everything unravels. The R.E. will collapse more completely than Rome.
"But Crisler seems to think he's discovered a secret weapon to beat us with."
"He has," said Michael. "Or he may have, anyway." He told Barendts about the von Neumann machines of the Chicxulub. The marine's eyes widened as the implications sank in.
"But how are the things supposed to recognize rebel worlds? We all use alien technology, we have to until we set up our own industries…"
Michael nodded. This was the conclusion he had come to on the way back to the city; it had fuelled his urgent need to collect Rue and the others and go straight to the authorities. "It all depends on how the Chicxulub systems identify ships and worlds. Herat thinks they would have to be sneaky, nosing around the outskirts of a system and sniffing out enemy action. Because they can't get in close, they have to rely on fairly crude detection methods to tell who's who. Basically, anything that's not broadcasting R.E. integration codes would be suspect. Presumably the rebels encrypt all their transmissions, so the von Neumann's couldn't even tell if those were of human origin or not.
"So because you use alien technology, the von Neumann machines would have to treat all alien worlds as possible rebel worlds. The only worlds that would pass muster would be those using nanotags and Rights payments— those inside the Economy. Everyone else— everyone— would be suspicious."
"So," said Barendts, "in order to guarantee wiping out the rebels, Crisler's machines would have to wipe out every alien world."
Michael nodded. "We just found this out. We were on our way to tell the Compact when the ambush happened."
For once, Barendts looked abashed. "I'm really sorry I didn't get to you guys sooner. I wasn't sure whether you were sympathizers or what. I was basically on my own when we were at the Envy," he said disconsolately. "I wanted to force the Banshee to turn around, so I blew the life-support stacks. Of course, Captain Cassels turned out to be a lot more resourceful than I'd counted on." He grimaced.
"When we got here to Oculus, it took us totally by surprise when it turned out there were autotrophs here. And then you and the professor lit out for autotroph territory… Crisler went ballistic. I gather you went to get the Chicxulub stuff translated?"
Michael nodded.
"We got our orders an hour ago," Barendts went on. "It was all I could do to set up a hack on the inscape spoofers, so that the other guys' aim would be off for a few minutes. That's why you're still alive: I ghosted you, threw their aim off."
"Except for Max."
"Yeah… a lucky shot, I guess."
They were silent for a while.
Michael frowned out at the dark water. "We seem to be slowing down." The giant wall of ice was passing at a slower rate now. It was also sloping away from them, an uneven inverted landscape.
"You're not telling me everything," said Michael. "There's something else going on: Crisler didn't just come along on this trip to chaperone Rue, did he? He had people to meet at Colossus. For instance, why weren't all of you at the ball the other night?"
"Oh, that. There's a local politician, Mallory, who wants to bring the halo worlds into the R.E. It'll never work, but that's why Crisler had us ride the beam down here; some big political maneuvering's going on here between his supporters and the Compact. Mallory wanted the Envy's ring changed to pass by his home world…" Barendts glanced over his shoulder. "You think she refused? And Mallory got Crisler to order the hit?"
Michael nodded. "Crisler might be taking us out of the picture so he can control the Envy directly and throw Mallory a bone," Michael said. "But it hardly matters at this point."
"There's some consolation," said Barendts. "For you guys, anyway."
Michael laughed humorlessly. "Oh, yeah? What's that?"
"The Envy was designed for slower-than-light travel. The original Chicxulub ships must have been designed for FTL and Crisler's going to want the new ones to be built that way too. His enemies are all in High Space; he doesn't care about the halo worlds, so odds are his von Neumann machines won't be visiting the halo."
Small consolation. Still, as Michael sat back and listened to the creaking of the sub, he found himself wondering whether the Chicxulub had held the same attitude sixty-five million years ago. Had they exempted the halo worlds from their genocide?
The idea seemed important somehow, but he was too exhausted to think about it. He leaned forward and stared at the spare instrumentation that dotted the nose of the sub. "Why don't we run through this stuff one more time," he suggested. "Maybe we missed something last time."
"And the time before that?" Barendts sighed, but nodded. "Okay. Starting with this panel…"
IT WAS RUE'S turn to sit in the command chair and stare out at the ice, which was now passing overhead in a slow procession of bizarre forms. Mike and the marine had gone to the back to snatch some sleep; Herat was under the influence of some healing nano from the sub's first-aid kit and slept soundly in the chair beside hers. Rue was alone with her thoughts.
It was unbelievable that Max was dead. She made herself face the fact, though doing so brought all kinds of really bad conclusions home.
She shouldn't have taken Max up on his mad plan to chase the Envy. He'd given her a chance to play cycler captain and she'd taken it up eagerly, not realizing what it meant. Max obviously hadn't realized either; he was dead now and it was all her fault.