Outsider groupship. Dissonants, Traditionalists, Zealots. The faceless form of an Outsider held diversity and challenge, opportunity and threat.
Diplomat and Guardian had taken time to digest and rechew the information given to them, while the damaged humans and kzin were speed-healed by Outsider technology. More accurately, technology developed on one of their hominid experimental worlds, on the other side of the galaxy.
'Dissonants,' he sang to the air around him.
'I hear you, Diplomat,' replied the voice. It sounded like an educated puppeteer, but he knew that it was a sophisticated translation program. The Outsiders had deep difficulties with communication without such translators. Soon, they would have such a program for these humans. Until then, Diplomat had to speak for them.
'Is everything in readiness?”
'Yes,' came the reply. 'There is little choice, actually. If we do not stop the Zealots, here and now, we will all lose much.”
Diplomat moved tongue across finger-lips. 'Why should the human Bruno help?”
'Indeed. Why should Guardian, or the kzin?”
That had been Diplomat's greatest victory: convincing the furious carnivore that his entire race was in peril, and giving him a chance to help preserve the kzin. 'I would much prefer to eat the monkeys,' the kzin had told Diplomat. He had then gone on to threaten Diplomat himself, which was both typical and unimportant. Force- screens were everywhere, and Rrowl-Captain's threats empty.
And Diplomat had no time to be frightened. Later, yes.
As for the Guardian puppeteer, such was her duty and pleasure both. She had gone so far as to verbally worry about Diplomats safety afterwards, which was out of character for the gruff soldier. 'Diplomat, the Zealots are here in hyperspace with us, and are closing quickly. The spacecraft is ready.
The other crewmembers are ready. We must have Bruno Takagama – and his brain – on board.' Diplomat rose to his feet and walked swiftly to the force-shield window. 'Mr. Takagama,' he called in the barbarous language the primates used, devoid of music and joy and structure.
The male and female humans walked toward Diplomat, holding hands. The puppeteer guessed this was a gesture of affection. 'We need,' began Diplomat, 'a decision from you. The Zealots approach in hyperspace, and we intend to use a… what is the word?… booby trap to stop them.' The taller human – Carol Faulk – had a face without expression. 'And you want us to go along?' 'Indeed. You, my Guardian, and the kzin.' 'Who will surely eat us,' snapped the female. 'I rather doubt it,' soothed Diplomat. 'There is more at stake here than your own interspecies battles.
And Guardian will guard you as well.' The male human, Bruno, looked confused. 'I still don't see why your plan will work.' 'The Zealots, like our hosts, have a reflex about obtaining information. It is ingrained in every molecule of their being, for reasons older than stars. They will not be able to not interrogate the converted spacecraft we have prepared. And you, if they can.”
'Why not simply destroy it?' the female human asked. 'Because,' repeated Diplomat patiently, 'they cannot help but want to know everything about you before they destroy you. Once destroyed, it would be impossible to obtain more information.”
'I see,' mused the center of their plan, already programmed – without his knowledge – by the Outsiders. Diplomat watched the male human scratch at the interface plug in his neck. How glad I am, thought Diplomat, that I do not have computational machinery in my head. Diplomat did not want to lie actively. 'I would not expect all of you to live.”
The human called Carol Faulk expelled air from her lips. 'No one will live on that ship,' she exclaimed.
'And if we do not try, your species – and many others – will be in peril.' The female tried to reply, her tone a song of anger, but the little male human put a hand on her shoulder. Diplomat looked at him expectantly.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
'I'll help,' Bruno said calmly.
Carol whirled at looked at him. 'Bruno,' she exclaimed, 'it's a suicide mission! I would expect this from a ratcat, but you?' 'Are you quite sure?' asked the puppeteer. Bruno had never been so sure of a thing in his life. He somehow felt taller than his short stature had ever allowed. 'Carol,' he said, taking her hands in his. 'You are a pilot, a soldier.' 'Yes, but – ' Carol began. Looking up at her angry Belter face, he shook her hands lust a bit to quiet her. 'You and I both know that we aren't getting out of this. None of us.' Well, Bruno knew that wasn't exactly true, but it wasn't time for Carol to learn that, quite yet. Carol nodded jerkily, her face like stone. 'Good,' Bruno said. 'You have always been the tough one, my protector. Who got me out of Sun-Tzu, a wire hanging out of my head?' He leaned his head into her chest, felt the warm softness against his forehead.
One of her hands stroked his neck tentatively. He looked up. 'Carol, I do love you. You have stood by me no matter what. How could I do less for you?”
Carol's eyes gleamed, a small chink in her Belter-pilot-soldier armor. She smiled slightly. 'I guess that we knew going into this that we weren't going to make it out alive.' Bruno nodded. Now came the tough part. 'I love you more than life, Carol Faulk. You made me feel like a human being, which I am not, and never have been.' She started to reply, but Bruno cut her off. 'No time, love. The Zealots are here.' He stretched up and kissed her lips. Soft. Bruno stored the memory. Bruno Takagama took three quick steps back, then shouted. 'Now, Diplomat!”
Anguished, he watched Carol run toward him and hit the invisible barrier the puppeteer had erected between them.
OUTSIDERS TWO
Rage. Feral vermin, the Node approaches. Doom awaits all nodes not yet at One with the Holy Radiants.
Humor. Can it be true? The approaching Node acting without instructions from long-silent masters? What of the Pact?
Vengefulness. It is time to put an end to the warmlife vermin, and the feral nodes that support their activities. Soon, all distant nodes will be at One with this Node.
Questioning. Not all. Nodes already at One with the other-Node, yes. Can the Node and this-Node not reach another Pact?
Confusion. Why does the feral node defend the warmlife vermin? They outrage clean geometries with their very existence.
Certainty. Just as the Creators used this-and-other Nodes for information, so does this-Node use the warmlife motes. Their ways are different, and often valuable.
Determination. Feral and heretic both. Even now, by fleeing in this skewed space-time, the other-Node is an affront to the Creators who long ago gave the Nodes purpose.
Amusement. Not-One. The other-Node and this-Node are at One, that this skewed space-time was found during a failed attempt to reach the realm of the Creators. They were not within this realm, so it cannot be an affront to journey within it.
Implacability. Enough. Prepare to be ended, in this geometry or any other.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Carol Faulk stood near the force-window, beside the puppeteer, and tasted ashes in her mouth.
She watched Bruno Takagama walk toward the opening in the force-shields. Vanish from sight, into the long shape of the converted puppeteer spacecraft. She burned to run after him, to somehow stop him. Instead, the
