He was finished. He had achieved his aim and now there was nothing else for him. He had manipulated her right to the end.
She realized there was something moving across her cheek, reached up and touched it, then peered at her moist fingertips. She should rebalance her neurochemicals, restore calm, return her mind to its dry analytical state. But she didn’t want to.
The sphere was now getting colder inside, which would make putting herself into stasis so much easier. She set the mycelium to use the last of the power supply to build photovoltaic cells on the surface of the outside skin, rather than scan for unlikely passing ships. When the sphere finally came within range of a sun, the power from them would then wake her up. Making calculations based on her present trajectory and the trajectories of stars lying within her probability cone she deduced that her chances of coming close to even one of them lay maybe two or three Planck lengths above zero… within this galaxy. Thereafter those odds did not improve in the slightest. She calculated her chances of entering another galaxy were somewhere in the region of one in fifty billion of this happening within the next billion years. Of course, she would eventually run into something, but by then it seemed likely there would be no more Polity or any of its AIs, but by then it was also likely there would be no suns left hot enough to power those photovoltaic cells — if they had not been ablated to dust by micrometeorite impacts over such an immense timescale.
Orlandine began to shut herself down, knowing, with what was a practical certainty, that this was the end for her. But it was a less certain death than most faced, and she had been here once before, before she was born.
19
ECS dreadnought Trafalgar was built halfway through the Prador-human war at Factory Station Room 101, before that station was destroyed by a Prador first-child ‘Baka’ — basically a flying gigaton CTD with a reluctant first-child at the controls, though slaved to its father’s pheromones and unable to do anything but carry out its suicide mission. Records of the Trafalgar AI’s inception were therefore lost, but it seems likely, considering its actions after the war, that it was a war AI of the twentieth generation or above, incorporating all those traits which, through a process of war-selection, had become useful enough for the faults to be ignored. In other words Trafalgar was aggressive, full of guile, horribly pragmatic and sometimes cruel: it knew how best to kill the enemy and was very good at a job it enjoyed. Evidence that this AI’s faults might become a problem can be found by studying war records, but then twenty-twenty hindsight will always spot things that ‘should have been known’. Shortly after one battle, in which Trafalgar, Cable Hogue and other vessels broke a blockade around a world and obliterated entrenched Prador, Trafalgar is on record as saying, ‘We should have crust-bombed.’ The world in question was of greater tactical importance to the Prador than to the Polity, so on the face of it, destroying it would have been to the Polity’s advantage. However, there were four million human soldiers and support personnel down there. More revealing perhaps is another on-the-record comment upon Trafalgar ‘s arrival at Divided Station, where an out-Polity human enclave had managed to capture numerous Prador stranded on a nearby moonlet. The humans had spent two years torturing the Prador to death purely for entertainment and thereafter turning their remains into ornaments — recordings of those deaths and the ornaments themselves both being for sale. ‘We should nerve-gas the lot of them and start again,’ said Trafalgar. It is relevant to note that at this point there was only one Prador left alive.
— From How It Is by Gordon
The sensation of falling had been an entirely mental one, for Mika was still floating a pace back from the chair containing the remains of Fiddler Randal, the toes of her boots just brushing against the floor. The blue-eyed remote was wrapped around her hand, which she could not feel. She felt physically sick and her head as if it had been scraped out with a rusty knife. She had memories of memories in there, but everything Dragon had loaded into her seemed to be gone now, leaving a raw hole
‘What do you mean you never expected me to succeed?’ As Mika jerked herself down to fully engage the gecko soles of her boots with the floor, the remote unfolded and with a puff of vapour slid aside, trailing cobwebby strands. She gazed at her hand, which was bright red and missing much skin but covered in some transparent iridescent layer like plastic. She half expected that if she tried to move it there would be no response, but this was not so. It moved easily, though it was still numb.
‘Precisely what those words imply,’ said that voice in her head.
‘So what was the point in coming here at all?’ Mika took hold of her glove from where it depended on a wire attached at her wrist, pulled it on and then engaged the seal. Glancing round she saw Randal’s silver aug hanging in the air behind her, slowly turning.
‘Did you think such a massive problem so easily solved?’ Dragon enquired, somewhat fiercely, Mika thought. ‘Did you think a deus ex machina could just be lowered onto the stage to remove such a threat?’
‘That was what you implied,’ she snapped. Dragon’s didacticism could be severely irksome sometimes, and that the entity was now showing some degree of emotion worried her.
‘It was only a possibility, and a very remote one at that. Four highly advanced alien civilizations — that we know of — were obliterated by Jain technology. Did you think that, by making contact with the Jain AIs, we were doing something that at least one of them had not already tried or considered?’
The thought had never even occurred to her, but of course it was valid. The Jain first, then the Csorians, subsequently the Atheter and the Makers. Polity researchers knew little enough about these cultures, but certainly they must have all been highly advanced, since they were spacefaring races.
‘So if you didn’t weaponize both your spheres to make such a dangerous journey here because of that reason, why did you come then?’
‘Curiosity drives me more than any wish to save the Polity.’
‘That was all?’
‘I have learned much.’
‘You’re being evasive, yet again.’
‘Consider what I have learned, and what you have learned.’
Mika understood then. ‘This is about him then’ — she gestured at the seated corpse — ‘and it’s about that attack ship out there. In fact it’s about Earth Central. Were you here simply looking for a lever?’
‘You do me an injustice.’
Mika could not help but let out a foolish giggle. Here she was misunderstanding an alien entity weighing millions of tons and capable of trashing wormships. She was misconstruing the doubtless saintly motives of an entity which had caused thirty thousand deaths at Samarkand — an entity who had once claimed to be God.
‘I didn’t think that was funny,’ Dragon sulked.
‘And there was me thinking you had such a great sense of humour.’
‘I told you that curiosity drives me certainly. The curiosity that drove me here concerned the Jain AIs and Erebus’s beginning here, but…’
Mika waited for something more to be said. She gazed over at the remote, but it was just a biomech with unfathomable blue eyes, just a thing constructed by Dragon.
‘You must return to your craft — and to me — as swiftly as you can.’
‘What’s the problem?’
‘My other half is experiencing difficulties.’
The remote flapped and then jetted vapour to propel itself towards the door, its stalked eyes peering back at her as if to say, ‘Are you coming?’ She quickly followed it, snatching Randal’s aug from where it floated as she went.