Gregorovich laughed again, long and low. “When an immovable force meets an irresistible object, causality becomes confused. Probabilities expand beyond computational resources. Statistical variables become unconstrained.”
“You mean an irresistible force and immovable object,” said Nielsen.
“I always mean to say what I mean.”
“But you don’t?”
Sparrow made a sound in her throat. “Just seems like a pretentious way of admitting you don’t know what’s going to happen.”
“Ah!” said Gregorovich. “But that’s the point. None of us know, and it is uncertainty itself I am protecting you against, my little chickadees. Oh yes I am.”
“Alright, I’ve had enough of your insubordination,” said Falconi. “I don’t want to do this, but you’re not leaving me any choice. Access code four-six-six-nine-upyours. Authorization: Falconi-alpha-bravo-bravo-whisky-tango.”
“Sorry, Captain,” said Gregorovich. “Did you expect that to work? You can’t force me out of the system. The Wallfish is mine, more than she was ever yours. Flesh of my flesh, and all that nonsense. Accept your defeat with good humor. To Alpha Centauri we go, and should it prove too dangerous, we’ll find safe haven upon the rim of settled space, where aliens and their seeking tentacles have no reason to intrude. Yes we shall.”
While he talked, Falconi pointed at Hwa-jung and snapped his fingers without noise. The machine boss nodded and unbuckled her harness and moved with swift steps toward the door to Control.
It slammed shut in front of her and locked with an audible clank.
“Ms. Song,” crooned the ship mind. “Ms. Song, what are you doing? I know your tricks and stratagems. Don’t think to thwart me; a thousand years of plotting and you still couldn’t outwit me, Ms. Song, Ms. Song—your melody is self-evident. Abandon your dishonorable intentions; your motif contains no surprises, no surprises at all.…”
“Quick,” said Falconi. “The console. Maybe you can—”
Hwa-jung pivoted and hurried to one of the access panels underneath the bank of controls next to the holo table.
“What about me?” Kira said. She didn’t know what the machine boss was about, but distracting Gregorovich seemed like a good idea. “You can’t keep me in here. Stop this, or I’ll go crack open your case and rip out all your power cords.”
A shower of sparks erupted from the access panel as Hwa-jung touched it. She yelped and yanked back her arm and clutched her wrist, looking hurt.
“You bastard!” Sparrow yelled.
“Just try,” the ship mind whispered, and the Wallfish trembled around them. “Oh just try. It won’t matter, though; not at all. I’ve set the autopilot, and nothing you can do will free it up, not even were you to wipe the mainframe and rebuild it from—”
A dark expression settled on Hwa-jung’s face, and she let out a sharp hiss from between her bared teeth. She pulled a rag from a pouch on her belt and wrapped it around her bandaged hand, covering her fingers. Then she reached for the access panel again.
“Let me—” Kira started to say, but by then the machine boss already had the panel open and was scrabbling around inside.
“Song,” Gregorovich crooned. “What do you think you are doing, beautiful Song? My roots run deep. You cannot dig me out, not here, not there, not with a thousand lasers on a thousand bots. Within the Wallfish, I am omniscient and omnipresent. The one and the word, the will and the way. Leave off this pointless, pathetic pandering and lay you down to—”
Hwa-jung yanked on something under the console, and the lightstrips flickered, and a burst of static sounded from the speakers—cutting off Gregorovich—and half the indicators along the walls fell dark.
“Wrong,” said the machine boss.
4.
A moment of stunned silence followed.
“Shit. Are you okay?” Sparrow asked.
Hwa-jung grunted. “I am fine.”
“What did you do?” Falconi demanded. In the question, Kira could hear his anger at Gregorovich, but also his anger that the machine boss might have hurt the ship mind and/or the Wallfish.
“I removed Gregorovich from the computer,” said Hwa-jung, standing. She rubbed her injured hand and grimaced.
“How?” said Falconi. Kira wondered that herself. Gregorovich hadn’t lied. Ship minds were so thoroughly integrated into the workings of a machine like the Wallfish, extricating them was no easier than extricating a still-beating heart from a living body (and without killing the patient, no less).
Hwa-jung lowered her arms. “Gregorovich is very clever, but some things even he doesn’t understand about the Wallfish. He knows the circuits. I know the pipes the circuits run in. Aish. That one.” She shook her head. “There are mechanical breakers on all his connecting power lines, in case of a bad electrical surge. They can be activated here or in the storm shelter.” She shrugged. “It is simple.”
Nielsen said, “So is he completely cut off, then? All alone, in the dark?”
“Not completely,” said Hwa-jung. “He has a computer built into his case. Whatever is stored on there, he can see.”
“Thank god for that,” said Vishal.
“But he can’t contact anyone?” Nielsen said.
Hwa-jung shook her head. “No wireless. No hardline.” Then: “We can talk with him, if we want, if we plug into the outside of his case, but we have to be careful. Any access to an external system and he could take control of the Wallfish again.”
“He sure ain’t going to be happy about that,” said Sparrow.
Kira agreed. Gregorovich had to be furious. Being once again trapped in his nutrient bath with no way to contact the outside world would be a nightmare. She shuddered at the thought.
“Who cares if he’s happy?” Falconi growled. He ran a hand through his hair. “Right now we have to get out of Sol before we get blown up. Can you set up a new course?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do it, then. Program another random walk. Three jumps should do it.”
Hwa-jung returned to her seat and concentrated on her overlays. A minute later, the free-fall alert sounded and the sense of crushing weight vanished as the engines cut out.
The Soft Blade kept Kira welded to the back of her chair as the Wallfish reoriented itself. Of course the xeno did. It was so accommodating. So concerned with her safety and welfare. Except when it came to what she really wanted. Her old hatred for it welled up again, sour poison lanced from a boil. But it was a useless hatred. A weak and ineffectual hatred, because there was nothing she could do about it—not one damn thing—just as there was nothing Gregorovich could do to rescue himself from the prison of his mind.
“How long until we can jump to FTL?” she asked.
“Thirty minutes,” said Hwa-jung. “The modifications from the Jelly are still holding. We can jump out sooner than normal.”
[[Itari here: Idealis?]] In response to the query, Kira updated the Jelly on what was happening, and the sick green color faded from its tentacles, replaced by its normal, healthy orange.
“Real light show over there,” said Sparrow, gesturing at the alien. “Never realized they were so colorful.”
Kira was impressed by how well the crew had accepted the presence of the Jelly. So had she, for that matter.
The Wallfish finished turning, and then the deck pressed against Kira as they resumed thrust—heading toward a different point along the system’s Markov Limit.