challenges to miss by just enough…
… or so we are assured by the relic fragment LAWYER, offering excuses that most survivors accept, maintaining our agreement to keep silent, for now.
Enough. I have some notions I want to try out on
Well… not clueless. They’ve had hints. I give many! Is it my fault they choose to ignore them? For all their wit, these Earthlings think that I am one of them, even when I “pretend” not to be. Even when I say openly who I am and use my real name, they just laugh and go along with my “role-playing game.” Humoring my schtick, my cute charade as an ancient alien machine.
I’ve learned so much by using this approach.
I wonder why none of us thought of it, till the original challenge message taught us how.
Well. A good idea is a good idea-whatever its source.
78.
War alert kept much of the crew at emergency stations, long after the crisis in belt zone H-27 passed. With Tor Povlov and Gavin AInsworth back aboard their ship, patched and plugged into recovery units, the
Gerald felt doubtful that definition applied in this case. For one thing, space crystals were fewer where the
Gerald privately suspected, the ancient, nasty war machines might just be acting out of reflex. Or else they went mad long ago. What intelligence could survive a thousand thousand centuries of tedium?
If it were up to him, Gerald would order stand-down from war alert. But as expedition leader, he still deferred to Captain Kim when it came to ship operations. Anyway, a little stress was good for a crew. This had been no more than a small skirmish compared to what the
Which reminded Gerald.
Through a viewer-port, Gerald saw the Lacey Donaldson Array gradually swinging the vast umbrella of mirror- petals back to its former configuration, as a scientific instrument gathering data about other planetary systems. The big telescope wasn’t supposed to be tested as a weapon so soon. Now, its secondary purpose was no longer secret. Whatever or whoever lurked in the asteroid belt would realize-Earthlings were preparing big guns, right here in the neighborhood.
The bridge crew looked tired, but still taut. Even Captain Kim still seemed high on adrenaline, chewing at a cuticle while her percept zone filled with floating holo images and post-analyses of the time-delayed FACR battle. Simulations flashed too quickly for Gerald and his older augmentations to keep up.
Gerald was already off-duty and Kim apparently had things well in hand, so he turned without ceremony and kick-floated toward his quarters, where Ben’s message waited. Along the way, passing the main science station, he found Ika and Hiram goofing around, amusing their crewmates and relieving tension with a little performance- holding a
You had to draw a line somewhere.
Ika caught his eye as he drifted past and-without pausing in her backward-chatter-she wink-picted at Gerald. A tiny, shimmering glyph appeared to float from her eye to his, settling in the corner of his percept. It unfolded when he glanced at it, and said:
Mr. C awaits at the same place!
Gerald mused on her meaning as he flew from handhold to handhold, toward the spinning axle of the gravity wheel.
Mr. Cobbly. For some reason, Ika still seemed keen for him to try out the blind-spot trick. So simple even an inept Homo sapiens should be capable of not-seeing something that wasn’t there.
Descending one of the spoke ladders to the rim of the rotating wheel, Gerald had to concentrate in order to get his legs set under him. Even at a quarter-G, just standing up seemed to get stranger and more difficult with time- remembering to heed the quaint direction
Heck, would there even be a habitable Earth anymore, in a few years’ time? Some of the worries from his youth-energy, pollution, and terrorism-now seemed less dire. But each year brought
– and stoking interest, among millions, in the seductive way out, offered by star-crystals.
Relearning the art of walking, Gerald hobbled gingerly past the same stretch of corridor where Ika and Hiram insisted that a “cobbly” still lurked.
Entering his quarters for the first time in twenty hours, he found above his desk the holo-head of his friend the anthropologist, frozen mid-sentence since the war-alert wailed. Next to Flannery hovered a chart mapping the political fluxes that roiled Planet Earth-blobs of color, jostling across several cubic meters of Gerald’s stateroom.
After visiting the fresher, Gerald grabbed a bulb of yeast-boost juice before slumping into his hammock.
“Resume.”