“I still can’t believe you found me with a lock of my hair.”
“As given to your father by a round, warty-skinned alien? Nor can I.”
“But...”
“In the end,” Kara said firmly, “I found your trail in netherspace because I’m an empath. Also obsessed with getting my people home. And because you and I are very close. The rest is happenstance. Unrelated.” She saw the other two were unconvinced. “Because otherwise it’s all too fucking fantastic and we’ve stuff to do. Like figuring out what we’ve discovered and how to complete the mission.”
So what had they learned? That if a star drive is used to enter a vehicle, construct, in normal space, it causes the molecular bonds to vanish. Or reverse. Turn into string. The vehicle, construct loses its integrity.
No use Ishmael muttering about the conservation of energy, that’s what had happened and there was a vid recording, plus other electronic scans, to prove it.
The star drive, by the way, appeared to be unharmed. But as there was no way of checking, who was to tell?
“Face it,” Marc said moodily, “none of us are equipped to understand why this happens, the physics...” he saw the smile on Kara’s face and guessed Ishmael had objected... “or even understand the explanation an AI might give. But we know that it does and we’ve now got some sort of weird weapon.”
Kara silently applauded. “So, Tatia. How’s it been for you?”
Tatia told of her adventures. Of the loneliness. The aliens and humans she had killed. Her insight into the precog world, how the Originators were trapped to a specific timeline without understanding the way stations. She didn’t mention the AI she’d called Mom, now silent in her head. It was real enough, she knew. But not like other AIs and for now best left to sleep.
“You thought the triune to death?” Kara asked.
“More got very, very angry with it. Focused that anger. And it went mad and died. Now what?” Tatia got up to get more coffee.
“Remember what you said about us finally fulfilling our roles?” Kara asked Marc.
“And you getting angry when I said maybe the pre-cogs were manipulated by a totally unknown race of aliens?”
Kara glanced up at Tatia who was now hovering with a coffee pot. “He has the most annoying insights.”
“But always my hero,” Tatia said, and discovered she meant it.
“Let’s think about that,” Kara said. “First, whatever’s behind the pre-cog empire’s on this planet. And we have to destroy it. I get emotions, even alien ones. And right now I’m getting an overpowering sense of love. It would disable me, except Ishmael did something clever with my brain. I say love because that’s the nearest human equivalent. It’s also power and has a... it’s like a code...”
Marc held up his coffee cup for a refill. “Didn’t you say there was a signal coming from deep space that was screwing up the Earth’s AIs?”
< Only some of them. Tell him!
“Ishmael’s okay,” Kara said hastily. “It makes sense...”
< That beam also exists in another dimension. So it can achieve near infinite velocity. Earth time from here to the solar system estimated at one point two standard Earth hours, so faster than using netherspace.
> You have been busy.
< Yes. Interestingly autonomous as well. Don’t worry. You’re still my favourite sniper/assassin.
Kara relayed Ishmael’s news.
“Glad he’s still on our side,” Tatia said and wished that Mom was taking part.
Then Kara explained her own insight.
Everything that had happened before, from being recruited to Tatia’s kidnap by the Cancri, had helped them discover and hone their talents. Hold on to that thought. So Kara herself became a more powerful empath. Marc became mister netherspace. Tatia developed a bond with the pre-cog aliens that had brought all three of them here.
“So far, so pre-ordained?” Marc asked.
Kara shook her head. “Tatia was also developing something else.” She looked at Tatia with sympathy and perhaps a touch of sadness. “You were learning to become a warrior, love. You were learning to kill.”
Tatia looked shocked for a moment. The retort but doesn’t everyone? died on her lips. She thought of how her life had changed over the past few months. Then nodded and sighed. “You mean no way a Seattle society babe could kill aliens and enjoy it? You have a point.”
“Only one flaw,” Marc said. “That would mean that whatever’s down there has invited its own killers to visit.”
Tatia shook her head. “Not necessarily. The mistake we made is thinking these way stations, events that have to happen, are only relevant to one outcome. Doesn’t have to be the case. They could be shared by countless other timelines.” She grimaced. “I know, confusing as hell. Especially when you think that our pre-cogs knew all this this... but what better way to succeed?”
They thought for a while, made more toast as you do, added brandy to the next brew of coffee, talked of this and that until Kara asked Tatia the obvious question.
“But why so angry?”
Tatia stared at her in disbelief. “Those artefacts? Oblong, size of a town?”
“Not up close. Why?”
“You need to see for yourself.”
But before the Thrown could move towards the artefacts, twenty Originator ships came to say hello and goodbye. One by one, moving alongside the Thrown, pausing for a minute or so, then off into deep space.
Kara ordered the Thrown’s hull to be kept transparent. The Originator ships came close enough for the humans to see the triune aliens staring at them without eyes.
“Why don’t they attack us?” Marc wanted to know. “We just blew up one of their ships.”
“Could be they’re afraid we’ll fight back,” Kara said, trying to ignore an awkward thought: what if we don’t matter any more?
But the consensus was, as so often,
