the Dawn Song continued to flee. Bio bods might have missed the lifeboat as it tumbled end over end through the chaff, dismissed it as unimportant, or, in a moment of pity, allowed the fugitive to escape. But not the Sheen. They identified the seemingly inert lump of matter as having an 82.1% match to the identification parameters typical of a Type 4 auxiliary spacecraft, which, based on a reading of its core temperature was equipped with a hyperdrive. This information was transmitted to a nearly insignificant aspect of the Hoon, which routed it to a salvage ship, which was already under way.
In the meantime the chaff had cleared, the machines took note of the fact that the quarry had turned on them, and fired their weapons.
Knowing that the Dawn Song’s relatively puny arsenal would have very little impact on his pursuers, and knowing he was about to die. Per Pok chose to target all the offensive weaponry he had on only one of the incoming fighters. Then, eyes closed, he thought of home and his fervent desire to go there. Unit AV7621769 registered the machine equivalent of surprise as the incoming missiles hit his shield and hammered their way through. Most destroyed themselves in the process but one managed to penetrate the hull.
Thousands of miles away the Hoon “felt” what amounted to a tiny pinprick, a unit of machine pain so small as to barely register on its consciousness, yet annoying nonetheless. The AI accessed the back feed from the surviving fighter just in time to witness the explosions. There were three of them, each more powerful than the last, as the Prithian vessel ceased to exist.
Satisfied, and eager to return to what it had been doing, the machine intelligence severed the connection. Veera felt pain at the back of her head, struggled to penetrate the thick gray fog, and remembered the tube. Had her actually father aimed the device at her? Or was that a dream? The teenager forced her eyes to focus, saw where she was, and knew the truth. She remembered the fleet, the argument with her father, and the hiss of anesthetic. The youngster threw herself forward, felt the harness cut into her shoulders, and called out loud, “Father? Where are you?”
But there was no answer. He was gone. Just like her mother. The weight of Veera’s sorrow threatened to crush her chest. But there was no time to mourn, to sing the death song, or to enter the traditional fast. Something grabbed me lifeboat, jerked it back and forth, and drew it in. Something huge. Veera touched controls located in the arm of her chair and a 3D vid screen popped into life. What she saw was a ship, a strange ship that shimmered as if lit from within, and a steadily growing rectangle of light. A hatch! The aliens planned to take her in! Veera felt her heart race and wondered what to do. The Sheen swallowed the lifeboat whole.
Though successful, from the Hoon’s viewpoint at least, the assassination, and Jepp’s role in it, left the human feeling depressed. He had been manipulated, used, and subsequently ignored, none of which was consistent with his status as God’s prophet, or his position as head of theNewChurch , an organization that would be of critical importance to all sentients once they realized how wonderful it was. Still, even the creation of a glorious new position for himself had not been sufficient to lift the human’s spirits. The truth was that he was both bored and lonely. Yes, members of his mechanical flock attended to his needs round the clock and, with the occasional exception of Henry, agreed with everything he said. But that wasn’t half as pleasant as he had assumed it would be ... not without genuine feedback. All of which accounted for why the onetime prospector had resumed his once habitual explorations of the ship and the fleet it was part of. Except that now, aided by both Alpha and Sam, the human had a good deal more access to things than he had had before. Things like the fleet’s electronic nervous system. That’s how Jepp heard about the fugitive ship, the lifeboat, and the fact that it had been salvaged. The process of being there when the salvage ship landed, of entering the bay only moments after it was pressurized, reminded the exprospector of his childhood. There had been two or three birthdays when he received presents ... and the emotions were very similar. The way the excitement started to build, the rising sense of anticipation, and the delightful delay. Then, when he could stand it no longer, the pleasure of opening the packages, except this present was wrapped in metal. The lock opened, the human stepped out, and eyed the bay. Silvery strings of nano hung from the overhead, slithered along the deck, and caressed the waiting ships. There were thousands, no millions of the tiny repair and maintenance machines, all linked together to create mechanical organisms. Organisms that could take ships apart and put them back together. Mindful of the fact that the “snake” nano had a tendency to slap unauthorized intruders, Jepp was careful to watch his step. The Prithian lifeboat was coaxed out of the salvage vessel’s hold by two tractor-sized robots. It might contain anything, or anybody, since the very existence of such a craft hinted at a survivor, or at least the possibility of one. Something Jepp wanted—or thought he did.
Finally, when the pod-shaped lifeboat had been removed and placed on the deck, a hatch started to open. The prospector, who prided himself on his knowledge of ships, was stumped. The vessel wasn’t human, Turr, Dweller, or...
Veera, terrified of who or what she might encounter, peeked out through the newly created opening. She wore a translator, an Araballazanie device common to Prithian merchant vessels, and her song sounded strange indeed. It was randomly transformed in Ramanthian, standard, and a half dozen other languages on the chance that one of them would be understood. “Is anyone there?”
Jepp heard a snatch of standard, cleared his throat, and yelled to ensure that she would hear him. “Yes, you can come out. The Sheen won’t hurt you. They have very little interest in biologicals.”
Veera heard the words as a series of chirps and twitters.
A human! What was he doing here? Could she trust him?
Not that she had much choice.
Slowly at first, head swiveling back and forth, the Prithian emerged from the lifeboat. The nanodraped compartment was strange, very strange, and took some getting used to. The human was flanked by two robots, one to each side, with a third perched on his shoulder. He approached slowly, as if worried he might scare the teenager away. “Hello, my name is Jepp.”
Veera, more from habit than anything else, offered the curtsy due anyone older than she was. “My name is Veera Pok.”
