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<I understand,> Quath said, though she did not. The Tukar’ramin’s signals carried a sucking undercurrent of doubt and gray fear.

*Some Illuminates do not want any foray into Galactic Center. They wax fiercely.*

<But… why…?> Quath trembled at her audacity to question as great a being as the Tukar’ramin about the far grander majesties of the Illuminates.

*They sense a larger design behind this. A mech artifice, perhaps, to draw us into the Center.*

<But that is our historic aim, you once said.> Quath was careful to couch her objection in terms of the Tukar’ramin’s own dictates.

*I had been so told, and until this moment I had never doubted. You are a Philosoph, Quath—you cannot know the wonderful shelter that we unmitigated intelligences know….*

Quath had a thin glimmering of what the Tukar’ramin felt. To have that certainty shattered by the spectacle of the Illuminates’ differing among themselves must be a terrifying experience. Quath felt sympathy for the Tukar’ramin—and abruptly felt how far she had come from the Quath of her simple Hive days. To feel anything but unblemished awe for the Tukar’ramin would have been incomprehensible only days ago.

*Other Illuminates think it is our true historic destiny to use these trifling Noughts, who by pernicious accident carry a key to the inner region.* The Tukar’ramin’s muted carrier frequencies ran somber, muddled, tossed with flecks of pale doubt.

<What design do the Illuminates see in all this?>

*They differ. They have studied all these events and some feel that the Noughts were sent here as part of a larger work.*

<What kind?>

*A concept we do not fully understand. Some mechs do things for inexplicable reasons. They term it “art.” Such works seemingly have no use.*

<Then we need not worry about them,> Quath said practically.

*Not necessarily. Some Illuminates feel the Noughts came in the ancient craft as an aid in stabilizing the mech city conflicts.*

<So they are our enemies, then.>

*Perhaps. Like us, the mechs use a hierarchical system of command. The entities controlling this world before our arrival were low on the mech ladder of being. This was a mere tendril, an operation at the periphery of mech interest.*

Quath suppressed her momentary shock at this news. All along she had supposed their efforts here were of great import, driving terror into mechs everywhere.

*In such cases, control must be delegated to the local level, and liberal use must be made of the stimulus of competition among subunits.*

<Clarify, please.> Quath sent undertones of confusion.

*Efficiencies arise out of carefully regulated conflict. Note how much more diligent were your own strivings, small one, when you were stimulated by your rivalry with your sister, Beq’qdahl.*

How little had escaped Tukar’ramin’s attention! Had she engineered every detail of Quath’s life?

*This use of inter-unit striving is nearly universal. The mechs had a unified design for this world. But individual mech cities and complexes here were allowed—even encouraged—to compete for resources, for challenging roles. Even the cells of all living things act in such a manner, jostling each other, seeking nutrients and higher tasks. Delicate chemical balances keep the process under control. When it goes well, the whole organism flourishes.*

<The mechs were weak on this planet. Are you saying this process broke down here?> Quath recalled the plentiful, livid signs of inter-city battle on the planet’s surface. Such scars did not look at all “well-regulated.”

*Indeed. With mechs, as living things, there is a danger to such a process. These tensions can spill over into greedy excess. It is known as cancer. A wild burgeoning of ego—of blind aggression by a part against the greater whole. The mid-level mech minds on this world began striving in deadly earnest. They employed new, vicious weapons against each other.*

Quath experienced a leap of understanding. <The Noughts!>

She detected a rumble of satisfaction coming from Tukar’ramin, accompanied by something else… a hint, perhaps, of respect?

*Indeed, young one. Your nimbleness of mind is pleasing. Noughts had long infested the interstices of mech culture as no more than irritants, occasionally employed for small purposes by lesser mech entities—more often, seen as pests to be squashed underfoot. Until the cancer began. Then they proved powerfully useful to one of the warring sides. The result was catastrophic. Their alliance weakened mech power in this system.*

<A weakness we exploited.>

*Just so. It is why the Illuminates risked sending our expedition, with the precious Great String, to this place so near the fringes of mech power.*

Quath felt she was beginning to sense some of the scope of this tale. It was vast, intimidating.

<Have not the greater mech minds, farther into the Core, noticed this setback?>

*Certainly. But the cancer spread so rapidly, and our might descended upon this system so quickly, that we were able to establish ourselves before they could act to eradicate the cancer. With the string at our disposal, we defeated all expeditions sent to “cure” this wayward mech colony. And the Illuminates estimated that economics would prevent any truly massive counterstrike. This outpost was too unimportant to merit any such major undertaking.*

<The Illuminates are vastly wise.>

*Nevertheless. Mechs elsewhere may have sought to send aid to their brothers here in more subtle forms, using sneaky tactics to slip medicine under our cordon of guard.*

Quath felt a burst of insight. <The other Noughts! The ones who arrived in the little ship. They were sent as medicine?… To interfere with the cancer?>

*That is what is believed by some of the Illuminates—those who see the vessel as a deadly missile, sent by our enemies, carrying agents harmful to our cause. It is why I received orders to sear them. It is why, at first, I sent you and your sister after them, to destroy them one and all.*

Tukar’ramin paused, then resumed in lower tones.

*But now other Illuminates contend that these strange new Noughts are special in yet another way. That theirs is a destiny linked somehow with ours. It is all so very confusing. Evidence on their ship points in both directions at once. There is a clear sign of mech design in their flight profile and in shipboard traces. Yet those ancient slabs you found have caused many Illuminates to believe that there is much more involved.*

Quath’s subminds whirled with the complexity of the choices. It reminded her of the queer conflicting emotions she had felt while hunting the Noughts out on the hard-scrabble planet surface. <I… what is it we are to do, then?>

She detected an echo of her own confusion resonating openly from Tukar’ramin, and found that more disturbing than anything else.

*This is a crisis unlike any in my long life, little Quath. I obey a majority of those Illuminates who are within range to bear and judge on these matters. Since this mission itself was a venturesome one, that majority consists of several who believe in daring, in doing, in taking swift advantage of the opportunities hinted at in the ancient slabs.*

<But why…?>

Tukar’ramin shook her great form, rejecting the question before it was spoken.

*What I know is how. The rude laws of matter and light, of blunt mechanics and silky thermodynamic flows.*

<Yes, of course. And deeply do you know them.>

*I do not know why. That is not the strength of our race, as you must realize by now, little Philosoph.*

<You fear the whipping winds of indecision?>

*Of course. You did too, once. But I have observed the genes of the old, dead race emerge in you, gathering, reaching out. You will know better what to do in this grave whirl of chaos.*