tubes, equipment and nanites. I truly felt like Frankenstein’s monster.
It occurred to me, as my nude, off-balance form was cleaned off and dipped into another pool, that Marvin wasn’t that different from me. For him, these Microbes were like the Nano production factories. I liked to program, to take thousands of nanites and shape them as I willed. The creative process was intensely satisfying when some new piece of hardware I dreamed up worked. The only difference was that I used tiny machines to build other machines. Marvin used tiny Microbes to build new biotic creations.
Disturbed by my thoughts, I endured the baths until their ultimate conclusion. All the while, Sandra frowned down at me in concern. I knew how she felt. When the Microbes had rebuilt her, I’d been very nearly panicked. She had every right to worry.
— 32
Two days later I was well on the way to Eden-12. I took the time to make my final preparations. First, I had Socorro fill my eyes with nanites. The expected period of blindness passed, and afterward, my eyes flashed occasionally, but functioned. I suspected I was seeing a stray nanite up close as it swam within the aqueous fluid.
Ahead, the fleet of Nano ships floated above the gas giant’s dusty rings. They’d halted precisely where they’d destroyed my scoop-ships. From my perspective, they appeared to be waiting for me.
They were my first hurdle. I’d talked to Alamo on several occasions, requesting permission to approach and visit the Blues. In all these conversations, the Nanos had never actually offered me any assurance I would not be fired upon. All they did was threaten me, by providing lists of actions I could not take in the presence of the Nano ships. I came to believe this list of possible hostile actions had been violated by our scout out in the Crustacean system. Perhaps the pilot had freaked out when a cloud of Nano ships had approached without communicating their intent. I didn’t think he’d fired upon them, but there were more strict rules of conduct than that. A simple radioed warning was enough to mark yourself down as a target.
“Alamo, this is Colonel Kyle Riggs requesting permission to pass your fleet and approach the planet you are orbiting.”
“Kyle Riggs is no longer command personnel.”
I rolled my eyes. “I know that. I am not giving you an order. I am requesting you to let my ship pass your formation. Do you give me your permission to pass?”
“No.”
I pursed my lips tightly. This was the answer I’d expected. The ship had been refusing to give me permission for two solid days now. It was frustrating. First, it had insisted I must get to the Blues and talk to them about my plans. Since then it had proceeded to block my every attempt to do exactly that.
“Will you fire on my ship?” I asked.
“Any ship marked as hostile will be fired upon.”
I massaged my forehead. Ever since the baths and the nanite injections, I’d gotten frequent headaches. The nanites in my eyes were the culprits, I was fairly sure. They’d been trained to stay out of the central region of my eye so as not to block light traveling through the aqueous fluid to the optic nerve. Sometimes, a nanite or two strayed and blocked my vision with their microscopic metal bodies. As floating debris, they sometimes interfered with my vision.
I’d waited until now to discuss matters with the Nano ships partly because the delay between each transmission was annoying. Now that I was close, I could at least have a real conversation.
“Will I be marked as hostile if I fly by your fleet?” I asked after opening a channel to my old ship.
“Insufficient data provided to make the requested assessment.”
“Would you fire upon my ship if I attempted to…collide with one of your ships?”
“Yes.”
“Would you fire upon my ship if I came within a range of one mile and took no other hostile action?”
“Insufficient data provided to make the requested assessment.”
I groaned. What other data did it want? “If I fly up to your fleet and halt, matching your orbit at a range of one mile, and I do not take any other hostile action, will I be fired upon?”
There was a moment’s hesitation. I looked up sharply and sent golden specks floating into my vision again. For the first time, Alamo wasn’t sure of the correct answer.
“No,” it said at last.
I thought about that. There were only two specifics I’d given it: an estimate of speed and range. I wasn’t sure which had gotten a firm response out of the Nano, but I was glad one of them had.
“If I maintained a range of one mile from your fleet and traveled past your fleet at a relative speed of one hundred thousand miles per hour, would you fire on me?”
“Yes.”
I frowned. Was it the specific speed that was tripping its defensive code, or something else? Proximity seemed to definitely be a factor. I could have circled the planet and approached from the far side, but I wasn’t sure yet if that would save me.
“Could you just list all the conditions which would cause you to fire upon my ship?”
There was no response for several seconds, then: “Query generated too many responses. Processing aborted.”
I shifted in my chair and tried to think. “If I approached the planet, but was out of your range as I did so, would you move to my position to intercept my ship?”
“Yes.”
I began to think I was getting the picture, and I didn’t like it. Alamo didn’t want me to pass her by. Her fleet was at a boundary line, and if I took a step over it, they were going to attack. It didn’t matter how fast I went or how slow. It didn’t matter if I fired or not. It didn’t even matter if I crossed the line on the other side of the world. If I got to close to the gas giant, they would attack.
“Socorro,” I said, “reduce speed and halt in far orbit over Eden-12.”
The ship slewed around to direct its engines toward the world I was fast approaching. I’d been using repelers to gently reduce my approach velocity, but now I was worried. There might be more defensive triggers, other than the one I thought I had uncovered. What if they decided I’d crossed some other line over the next hour and flew out here to meet me? That was how they’d behaved when defending Earth from Macro invaders, I recalled. They did nothing until a certain threshold had been met, then they all launched in unison, formed a swarm, and attacked the target relentlessly until it was destroyed, or they were.
Socorro’s engines applied significant thrust. I was aware of the G-forces, but they didn’t make the flesh of my face distort. My vision didn’t blur. There was no heavy rush of blood in my temples or difficulty breathing. Most of the time, I was able to forget about the changes the Microbes had made to my body. But right now, I could tell the difference.
I’d been avoiding mirrors lately, as I knew I’d lost most of my hair. I didn’t even want to know how much of it was gone, or if it would ever grow back or not. What was done was done for now. After this mission, if I should be so lucky as to survive it, I figured I could spend some time returning my body and my appearance back to normal.
“Alamo,” I said loudly over the noise of the engines. “Let me see if I have interpreted your requirements: are there any circumstances by which I will be allowed to pass your current orbital distance from Eden-12, without triggering defensive action?”
“Yes.”
“What would allow me to pass your defensive perimeter?”
“Kyle Riggs must become command personnel.”
Having my answer, I cut off the channel and thought about it as I made my final approach. A few hours passed, and I continued my hard deceleration.
The approaching surface of Eden-12 was a misty greenish-white. At the outer limits of the atmosphere, conditions were surprisingly dense and warm. The world was closer to the local star than gas giants in our
