As she took the first sip, the door sighed open and Chen Ling Ho entered. The Cantonese powered back up and came to attention.
“You could have just asked,” she said. “Two of my marriages were elopements.”
Chen smiled. It struck her that that was his only response. Almost any other man she had ever known would have felt obliged to make a clever comeback. He made some signal she didn’t quite catch, and the guard left, in a wide, fuel-wasting arc to avoid passing between them.
When the door had slid shut behind him, Chen spoke in Mandarin. “Sun Tzu—privacy!”
“Yes, Highness,” his AI replied in the same language.
“There,” Chen continued in English. “We now have total privacy. But very little time.” A chair came to him and enfolded him, and a globe of water found his hand. “I am sorry you were caught up in this, Eva. I would have had it otherwise.”
“Where are Reb and the others? For that matter, where the hell are we?”
“Tenshin Hawkins and his friends are sleeping presently.” He sipped his water delicately, and pursed his lips in approval. “Your second question has many answers. We are in an elongated polar orbit, high above the ecliptic, in a region of space where neither the United Nations nor the Starmind could find us, even if they were looking. This pressure itself is many things. Fortress. Laboratory. School. Flagship. My home away from home.”
“Is ‘prison’ in there somewhere?” she asked. “Or can I go home now?”
He failed to hear the question. “Specifically, we are in my quarters, which I invite you to share.”
“Damned rude invitation. I hurt all over. Don’t you know any better than to subject spacers to high gees?”
“There was a regrettable need for speed and stealth,” he said. “All possible care was taken: military antiacceleration technology was employed. Happily, you all survived.”
“But in what condition? The others should have woken before me; they’re all younger.”
“But they left Terra behind much longer ago. Their journey was actually more arduous than yours. But do not worry: I am told that their health is excellent.”
“Then when will they wake up?”
He sighed. “I do not envision that occurring, I’m afraid.”
She set her jaw. “Ling, quit dancing and spit it out. What’s going on?”
“You will recall the economic summit conference in the Shimizu last month?”
“Let me see… the one we almost got killed during, or am I thinking of some other one?”
He ignored the sarcasm. “We five have managed to repair our relationship… for the time being, at least… and are now about to destroy the Starmind and overthrow the United Nations.”
Eva Hoffman had known more than a few power-mad men and women in her lifetime, including some who were quite successful at it. Had any of them made such a statement, she would have laughed, or at least wanted to. From the lips of Chen Ling Ho the words were blood-curdling. No flip response was thinkable. “My God… ,” she whispered, horror-struck.
“We hope to create the first rational planetary government,” Chen went on conversationally. “Rather along lines K’ung Fu-Tzu might have approved of, I think. But it scarcely matters. The point is that once the Starmind is annihilated, any mistakes humanity makes will be its own.”
REB! For God’s sake, WAKE UP!
Just the barest hint of response, like a man turning restlessly in a deep sleep.
“Ling, for the love of Christ, humanity can’t make it without the Starmind, not anymore, you know that!”
“Precisely why the Starmind must die. The riches it showers on us are like welfare checks: they demean, and degrade, and diminish us. Stardancer benevolence has already devolved us from wolves to sheep, from roaring killer apes to chattering monkeys, in three generations. This trend must be reversed, before the inevitable day comes when the Fireflies return. The transition will be painful—but we will make it by our own efforts, as free human beings, or die trying.”
“You really think you can kill every Stardancer in the Solar System? How?”
He frowned, and chose his words carefully. “Before I can answer that, Eva, I must ascertain your status. I have stated my intentions. Three options are open to you: you can be friend, foe or neutral.”
“Nice of you to offer the third choice,” she said.
“Yes, it is. But if you choose it, I cannot answer your question, or any other of a strategic or tactical nature. In that event I will sequester you here, in reasonable comfort but complete ignorance, and release you in your own custody when events have resolved. On the order of three months from now.”
She noticed that he did not say, “… on the close order of…” and grimaced. “I assume foes don’t get briefed either.”
“On the contrary,” he said. “If you tell me that you oppose me, I will answer any questions you have. You have been an intimate companion to me, Eva: I would wish your death to be as agreeable as possible.”
Reb, wake UP! Rise and shine! Dammit, you’re gonna wet the bed!
“I see. And if I claim friendship?”
“You get it,” he said simply. “After this is over, you can have the Shimizu for a gift if you like. It lies within my fief.”
“And you’ll take my word.”
“Eva, I know when you are lying.”
“How long do I have to think it over?”
“As long as you wish. But in ten minutes I must leave here to begin the attack, and I will be unable to return for at least twenty-four hours. If you wish to witness history as it is happening, at my side, you must choose to be my friend before I leave this room.” He swiveled his chair away from her and began scanning a readout of figures in no alphabet she knew, politely giving her space to think it through.
The trouble was, she thought, the canny little son of a bitch probably would know if she lied. That was bad, very bad, for she had to oppose him—had to—and dared not even hint why. After a hundred and sixteen weary years and countless flirtations, death had come for her at last, was a matter of minutes away. She was shocked by how much that realization hurt—but even a newfound fear of extinction was of less importance than the awful responsibility she must now discharge before she died.
Why me? she thought—and smothered the thought savagely. That was exactly the kind of self-indulgence she could no longer afford. Instead she made her limbs relax, took control of her breathing, and forced herself to remember the words Reb had once told her.
“It’s state of mind more than anything else, Eva. Telepathic sensitivity is largely a matter of sweeping the trash out of the communications room. Try and remember what it was like when one of your babies cried in the night and woke you. There is no ‘you’ at such a moment, no ego, no identity, no fear, no viewpoint… only the need, and the feeling of it, and the will to serve it, to soothe the pain at all costs.”
She kept measuring her breath, felt her anxiety begin to diminish. She had not meditated with any regularity since the 1970s, but it seemed to be one of those riding-a-bicycle things. Perhaps it is true that it becomes easier to surrender the ego at the point of death, when you finally admit that you cannot keep it forever anyway. Eva soon felt herself going further away from the world than usual, or perhaps closer to it—climbing to a higher place or perhaps it was descending to a deeper level, though neither term meant anything in zero gravity—went beyond, achieving a selflessness she had only been granted a few times in all her years, for fleeting moments.