[Had remarkably little to do with it, other than providing a convenient cover story.]
Despite himself, Clavain almost laughed. Cover story?
[Had the real reason ever come out, there would have been widespread panic across the whole of human-settled space. The socio-economic turmoil would have been incomparably greater than anything caused by the present war.]
And I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me why?
[You were right, in a sense. It was to do with the wolves, Clavain.]
He shook his head. It can’t have been.
[Why not?]
Because we didn’t learn about the wolves until Galiana returned. And Galiana didn’t encounter them until after we separated. There was no need to remind Skade that both of these events had happened long after the edict to stop shipbuilding.
Skade’s helmet nodded a fraction. [That’s true, in a sense. Certainly, it wasn’t until Galiana’s return that the Mother Nest obtained any detailed intelligence concerning the nature of the machines. But the fact that the wolves existed — the fact that they were out there — that was already known, many years before.]
It can’t have been. Galiana was the first to encounter them.
[No. She was merely the first to make it back alive — or at least the first to make it back in any sense at all. Before that, there had only been distant reports, mysterious instances of ships vanishing, the odd distress signal. Over the years the Closed Council collated these reports and came to the conclusion that the wolves, or something like the wolves, was stalking interstellar space. That was bad enough, yet there was an even more disturbing conclusion, one that led to the edict. The pattern of losses pointed to the fact that the machines, whatever they were, homed in on a specific signature from our engines. We concluded that the wolves were drawn to us by the tau-neutrino emissions that are a characteristic of our drives.]
And Galiana?
[When she returned we knew we’d been right. And she gave a name to our enemy, Clavain. We owe her that much, if nothing else.]
Then Skade reached into his head and planted an image. What she showed him was pitiless blackness studded by a smattering of faint, feeble stars. The stars did nothing to nullify the darkness, serving only to make it more absolute and cold. This was how Skade now perceived the cosmos, as ultimately inimical to life as an acid bath. But between the stars was something other than emptiness. The machines lurked in those spaces, preferring the darkness and the cold. Skade made him experience the cruel flavour of their intelligence. It made the thought processes of the Master of Works seem comforting and friendly. There was something bestial in the way the machines thought, a furious slavering hunger that would eclipse all other considerations.
A feral, ravenous bloodlust.
[They’ve always been out there, hiding in the darkness, watching and waiting. For four centuries we’ve been extremely lucky, stumbling through the night, making noise and light, broadcasting our presence into the galaxy. I think in some ways they must be blind, or that there are certain kinds of signal they filter from their perceptions. They never homed in on our radio or television transmissions, for instance, or else they would have scented us en masse centuries ago. That hasn’t happened yet. Perhaps they are designed only to respond to the unmistakable signs of a starfaring culture, rather than a merely technological one. Speculation, of course, but what else can we do but speculate?]
Clavain looked at the twelve brand-new starships. And now? Why start shipbuilding again?
[Because now we can. Nightshade was a prototype for these twelve much larger ships. They have quiet drives. With certain refinements in drive topology we were able to reduce the tau-neutrino flux by two orders of magnitude. Far from perfect, but it should allow us to resume interstellar travel without immediate fear of bringing down the wolves. The technology will, of course, have to remain strictly within Conjoiner control.]
Of course.
[I’m glad you see it that way.]
He looked at the ships again. The twelve black shapes were larger, fatter versions of Nightshade, their hulls swelling out to a width of perhaps two hundred and fifty metres at the widest point. They were as fat-bellied as the old ramliner colonisation ships, which had been designed to carry many tens of thousands of frozen sleepers.
But what about the rest of humanity? What about all the old ships that are still being used?
[We’ve done what we can. Closed Council agents have succeeded in regaining control of a number of outlaw vessels. These ships were destroyed, of course: we can’t use them either, and existing drives can’t be safely converted to the stealthed design.]
They can’t?
Into Clavain’s mind Skade tossed the image of a small planet, perhaps a moon, with a huge bowl-shaped chunk gouged out of one hemisphere, glowing cherry-red.
[No.]
And I don’t suppose that at any point you thought that it might help to disclose this information?
Behind the visor of her crested helmet she smiled tolerantly. [Clavain… Clavain. Always so willing to believe in the greater good of humanity. I find your attitude heartening, I really do. But what good would disclosure serve? This information is already too sensitive to share even with the majority of the Conjoined. I daren’t imagine what effect it would have on the rest of humanity.]
He wanted to argue but he knew she was correct. It was decades since any utterance from the Conjoiners had been taken at face value. Even a warning as bluntly urgent as that would be assumed to have duplicitous intent.
Even if his side capitulated, their surrender would be taken as a ruse.
Maybe you’re right. Maybe. But I still don’t understand why you’ve suddenly begun shipbuilding again.
[As a purely precautionary measure, should we need them.]
Clavain studied the ships again. Even if each ship only had the capacity to carry fifty or sixty thousand sleepers — and they looked capable of carrying far more than that — Skade’s fleet would have sufficed to carry nearly half the population of the Mother Nest.
Purely precautionary — that’s all?
[Well, there is the small matter of the hell-class weapons. Two of the ships plus the prototype will constitute a taskforce for the recovery operation. They will be armed with the most advanced weapons in our arsenal, and will contain recently developed technologies of a tactically advantageous nature.]
Like, I suppose, the systems you were testing?
[Certain further tests must still be performed, but yes…]
Skade unhitched herself. ‘Master of Works — we’re done here for now. My guests have seen enough. What is your most recent estimate for when the ships will be flight ready?’
The servitor, which had folded and entwined its appendages into a tight bundle, swivelled its head to address her. ‘Sixty-one days, eight hours and thirteen minutes.’
Thank you. Be sure to do all you can to accelerate that schedule. Clavain won’t want to be detained a moment, will you?‘
Clavain said nothing.
‘Please follow me,’ said the Master of Works, flicking a limb towards the exit. It was anxious to lead them back to the surface.
Clavain made sure he was the first behind it.
He did his best to keep his mind as blank and calm as possible, concentrating purely on the mechanics of the task in hand. The journey back towards the surface of the comet seemed to take much longer than the trip down
