> You can be replaced. For “can” read “will”.
< Open that hatch to the left of the console.
* * *
Inside was a silvery metal ball the size of a small melon, cradled by three supports. The area around the ball shimmered, as if it was underwater. Kara remembered someone saying that part of an AI’s mind extended into another dimension, so it actually had far more memory than was apparent. The memory could be accessed and processed faster than the speed of light, too.
> Where’s the chip?
< Inside the ball. Ishmael sounded resigned. < It unscrews.
* * *
A slight prickling as her hands pierced the multidimensional field. The metal was ice cold in her hands but unscrewed easily. Inside was a large plasmet chip apparently unconnected to anything. Kara picked up the chip, banged it hard twice on the console, a third time for luck, replaced it, screwed the ball back up and closed the locker. Her hands looked mildly sunburnt.
> Salome?
<< I’d have been okay. She sounded resentful.
> We, on the other hand, probably not. Take us Up.
* * *
A moment later the SUT appeared in normal space.
“A little drastic,” Marc said, trying not to laugh. “Even basic.”
If she tried, and she did and promised herself never again, Kara could sense the things as a low hum of conversation from people in a distant room.
“It worked. You’re welcome.”
“Okay, thanks, well done. You could have broken it.”
“Salome. She likes being called Salome. Where’s your AI?”
“Retreated into a la-la trance. Do not even think of bouncing me against a wall.”
“You can’t break plasmet even with a bomb.” Kara shrugged. “Seemed like the right action to take. Salome, sure you’re okay?”
<< Only a slight headache – I know, no body, no head. But a girl can dream.
“Ishmael, monitor her. Salome, get the Cedrics ready.
* * *
Full visual back on. Marc, keep on checking for other SUTs or spacecraft. Large rocks. Any possible danger.” Their SUT’s instruments could and would do it far better and quicker. But getting him involved would hasten his full return to the human world.
“What do you expect?” he asked quietly.
“The pre-cogs know we’re coming.” She thought. “Know where we are, might be at certain moments. This could be one of them.”
“You know,” he said, “that never occurred.” Maybe not the Master of netherspace after all.
“Nor me. So obvious, yet so easy to miss. Pre-cognition shows the way stations on the way to your goal. But also incidents leading to outcomes to avoid.” But if we’d known, we probably wouldn’t be here... Anson was right. And Tse knew all this, not just for us but for billions upon billions of people. Who knows, maybe the entire sentient galaxy.
* * *
The hull became transparent. Marc had seen this happen once before, leaving old Scotland for Iceland. But then he’d been aware of the Earth beneath. Now there was nothing, above or below, except the faint twinkling of stars light years away. All around them the deep, limitless black of space. The first time he’d gone Up, and the SUT had left n-space for a navigation reading, Marc had become fascinated. He’d seen a lone meteorite move serenely past, journeying to the edge of a universe that would die before it got there. Back then he’d believed that without him the meteorite would be pointless. To be perceived is to be.
* * *
Now he knew that the universe and everything in it didn’t matter. Only netherspace was real.
Netherspace. Where he’d caught the merest hint of something deeply profound and unknowable. So far away that distance no longer mattered. Not that there was distance in netherspace, all points equally close to each other. That’s what you get with infinite dimensions but no time.
Marc knew that sometime he’d need to explain to Kara that the human–alien pre-cog war no longer interested him. His only passion now was netherspace and that distant magnificence that now owned him.
He did care about her. And very much about Tatia, would do what he could to get her back... unless or until he went walkabout in n-space again. He wasn’t ready, though, and didn’t know why. Maybe it was returning to three-dimensional space. Maybe there was something here to help find the magic he sought. A clue, a direction, a word to be uttered, a diagram to be drawn...
Two alien craft winked into existence.
One shaped like a dull metal torus or twisted loop, at least a hundred metres tall, fifty metres wide. The other a large, orange-coloured ball fifty metres across.
Both within two hundred metres of the SUT.
Spider-like shapes erupted from the SUT and sped towards the alien craft.
Violet-coloured beams flicked on from the torus and focused on the SUT.
A siren sounded.
<< Fuck this, from Salome.
“They want to kill us!” from Marc.
“We know,” from Kara.
The SUT trembled.
The spider shapes reached and attached to both alien craft... and slowly burrowed inside.
The part of the SUT hull illuminated by the violet beams turned silver and began to flake away.
<< Oops!
Cracks appeared on the torus’ surface and the violet beams vanished. The orange ball started to glow.
The cracks widened. Debris erupted into space.
<< Hold on! “Hold on!” Kara shouted at Marc.
As the SUT accelerated violently, throwing Marc to the floor, its hull turned silver.
Marc and Kara watched on the darkened vid display as torus and ball exploded.
“What the hell?” from Marc.
“Cedrics doing their job. I guess.”
Ten minutes later Kara and Marc stood in the control room, she with a beer, he with a glass of wine. The SUT needed some minor repairs before returning to netherspace. In the meantime Kara relayed Salome’s explanation of the encounter, thinking it was time Marc got a new AI.
Yes, the SUT was armed. But the alien craft were too close for the Wild’s weapons to be used safely. That was when Cedrics came into their own. They could dig themselves into all known alien craft and once there, cause as much mayhem as possible, down to exploding with the force of a .25 kiloton nuclear explosion.
Kara had felt a little sad
