Caine frowned. “And what, exactly, is that protocol?”
W’th’vaathi’s tendril-toes writhed slightly. “It is deemed unwise to send advanced technology into an environment where aggressive species are involved, and in which it is possible that we might lose control over the machines in question. We consider this protocol particularly urgent to maintain in regard to your species, Captain.”
Riordan kept his voice calm. “Are we deemed less reliable than other species?”
“No, Captain. We simply acknowledge that humanity is extremely inquisitive, and thus, by examining our machines, it may acquire technical insights that do not arise from its own experimental efforts. This could be highly destabilizing.”
It is also the history of our race, W’th’vaathi. Stealing loot was never more than a penny-ante pickup game for chumps. The big players have always known that the big stakes are in stealing information. “I suspect that destabilization is normative for us, then.”
W’th’vaathi considered that for a moment. “That may be true. But it would be irresponsible for us to act differently. It is not our place to be a change-agent in the evolution of your race.”
If only I could believe that you felt that way about influencing us biologically, as well. “So is that why you are reluctant to incorporate much technology into your environment? To ensure that it doesn’t destabilize you, too?”
“Correct. For our species, complex machinery distracts, and ultimately conditions, individuals away from the processes and temporality of a natural environment. We are not reluctant to employ technology. We use it freely and gladly where natural processes offer no reasonable alternative. Space travel is one example. Rapid long-range communications is another.”
W’th’vaathi’s tendrils drifted lazily in the wind. “Each evolutionary path has its advantages. We have many worlds, and balance in each. But now we live in an age where military capability is needed. In that domain, we have no skill and little appropriate technology. The price of living in unvarying peace and balance is that, in the face of war and chaos, one is ill-suited to answer the challenges they pose.”
Riordan nodded respectfully. “You are uncommonly honest.”
“If one would be in harmony with one’s environment, one must be. We do not have your varying belief systems, no theories which attempt to promote some of our characteristics or traits above others.” She reflected a moment. “Of course, if your species was any less contentious and turbulent, you would not be the soldiers you are, and so, would not be the pivotal species of this moment.”
After several seconds passed, W’th’vaathi obviously sensed the humans’ dumbfounded silence. “Surely, you have seen that, in the wake of the late war, you are nothing less than the fulcrum point which shall determine the tilt of subsequent interstellar events. Even though you are not a very advanced race, humans are the great variable.”
“Why do you believe that?” Riordan asked.
“The versatility and innovation of your species determines what you may accomplish, how swiftly you may change and act. That, not the starting differences in technological or biological mastery, will shape the course of imminent events. Surely, you have seen this.”
Without a further word, W’th’vaathi turned to study the shining ribbon of river ahead.
PART FOUR. October 2120
Chapter Forty-Two. APPROACHING ORBIT, CLOSE ORBIT, and SOUTHERN EXTENTS OF THE THIRD SILVER TOWER BD +02 4076 TWO (“DISPARITY”)
Sehtrek confirmed Red Lurker’s passive sensor scan of the Slaasriithi orbital defenses. “The sequence and intervals of the enemy craft are optimal, Nezdeh.”
Nezdeh Srina Perekmeres assessed the scrolling telemetry of the cannonball they had tentatively identified as their target six hours before. The spherical craft all varied their speed, vector, interval on each orbit. The variations were, at most, of marginal tactical significance, but this time, the interval between the currently approaching cannonball and the next in sequence was wider than usual, thanks to whatever randomizing or optimizing algorithm determined the gaps in their orbits. It was only an eleven-minute difference, but it was the largest the crew of Lurker had seen. Additionally, measurement of the derelict Aboriginal corvette suggested that it would begin to enter the atmosphere within the next two or three orbits: clearly, if the craft was either operable or still crewed, it would have saved itself by now.
“Commence the attack,” muttered Nezdeh. “And inform Pehthrum to ready his assault team in the armored shuttle. They will be landing within the half hour.”
Sehtrek nodded and tapped one of the dynamic tabs on his control panel.
* * *
Less than half a light-second away, the lascom signal sent by Sehtrek’s tap hit a sensor no bigger than a dessert plate, embedded in a shed-sized asteroid fragment. That sensor sent a brief electrical pulse along a wire that led to a self-seeking missile loosely moored on the lee side of the rock. The clamps holding the missile in place fell away, and a small spring mechanism uncoiled against its fuselage, imparting enough momentum and slow spin so that the missile moved out of the concealing shadow of the boulder. The missile’s nose swung toward the cannonball rising up over the planetary horizon. Dozens of primarily plastic passive microsensors, scattered by Lurker during the first engagement, detected the oncoming sphere’s reflection and captured its telemetry and image. When polled by another lascom squeak from Lurker, each sensor relayed its data on the object by physically vibrating a reflective plate in code.
The remote targeting computer aboard Lurker correlated the data from this almost invisible phased array and transmitted an intercept footprint. However, it did not instruct the hidden missile to illuminate the active sensors in its seeker head to acquire a lock. Instead, it simply noted the missile’s status: ready to engage.
* * *
Tegrese glanced up at Nezdeh. “The missile acknowledges receipt of primary guidance to the intercept envelope.”
Nezdeh nodded. “Ulpreln: set our thrust to two-gee constant. Jesel?”
Jesel’s voice crackled out of the intership speaker. “Here, Nezdeh.”
“Have your pilot keep your armored shuttle fifty kilometers behind us and match velocity until you receive the deployment order.” She closed the ship-to-ship channel. “Tegrese: commence railgun salvoes of area denial munitions into pretargeted orbital paths. And launch the remote missile.” She rose, pushed herself toward the ready room.
Tegrese was too surprised to sound deferential. “Nezdeh, why are you leaving the con?”
“To locate our agent on the planet.” She slipped the vial holding her last Catalysite out of her pocket. “I shall not be long.”
* * *
Bannor Rulaine was staring at the countdown clock: thirty-seven minutes until they were compelled to boost in order to sustain orbit, which would almost certainly bring the attackers down on them. But better a fighting chance than a crash landing — or immolation, if the deorbit heat undid the hull welds first.
Karam was glowering at the clock. “I just hope our numbers are right,” he muttered.
Bannor kept his own voice low; no reason to alarm the rest of the bridge crew. “I thought you were sure about the timing.”
“Yeah, well, because I couldn’t illuminate the active arrays to double-check the passive spectroscopy, I had to guess at Disparity’s atmospheric composition and the rate at which its density increases. And my best guesses may not have been good enough.”