Anvil Of Stars Part 11

"Then it's a psychological problem..." Martin said. And you won't or can't do anything about it. And you won't or can't do anything about it.

"That is for you to decide."

Martin nodded, less agitated by such an att.i.tude than he might have been a few tendays before. Other than providing an interface with the s.h.i.+p, the moms did little now. He could issue direct instructions, request direct answers, but critical judgments from their former teachers were not forthcoming. This was independence and responsibility with a vengeance, and he had to complain, however weakly and uselessly.

"The strain is intense. We're drilling day in, day out. The drills are going well, and everybody's doing their job-no more absentees, not even Rosa. But I don't like the way the children reacted to Rosa's...sighting. Vision. They were fascinated by it."

The War Mother said nothing.

"There hasn't been much talk since, but it worries me."

The War Mother said nothing more. He looked at the black and white paint on its facelessness. He wanted to reach out, just once, and strike it, but he did not.

The tenth drill on s.h.i.+p division went as smoothly as the first. In the nose, Martin projected the schematic of the Dawn Treader's Dawn Treader's practice preparations. Paola and Hans and Joe crowded closer to see from his wand, somehow more special than viewing the same through their own. practice preparations. Paola and Hans and Joe crowded closer to see from his wand, somehow more special than viewing the same through their own.

The picture of the changing Dawn Treader Dawn Treader loomed large in the corridor, a vivid ghost in three dimensions. The s.h.i.+p had contracted, necks reduced in length, tail and nose become blunt nubbins, grooves indenting the circ.u.mference of the second homeball like the cell divisions of a blastula. The third homeball also revealed grooves, an inscribed portion of the second neck connected to an orange-slice of the second homeball. loomed large in the corridor, a vivid ghost in three dimensions. The s.h.i.+p had contracted, necks reduced in length, tail and nose become blunt nubbins, grooves indenting the circ.u.mference of the second homeball like the cell divisions of a blastula. The third homeball also revealed grooves, an inscribed portion of the second neck connected to an orange-slice of the second homeball.

The drives would break down into two units, of sizes proportional to Tortoise Tortoise and and Hare, Hare Hare, Hare being approximately twice the size of being approximately twice the size of Tortoise. Tortoise Tortoise. Tortoise claimed most of the second homeball and the shortened neck between. claimed most of the second homeball and the shortened neck between.

Within the image, new bulkheads glowed red against the general green, spreading like wax in hot water over designated s.p.a.ces, until the units were completely marked out, ready for separation.

"Show me status," Martin said. Part.i.tions melted away, necks lengthened, homeb.a.l.l.s became ungrooved and round. Whiskers of magnetic field vanes streamed out from the third homeball; inner traces of the scoop field glowed red around the nose.

"Looks good," Hans said. "When do you want to do final strategy?"

"The search team has more to show us. We'll listen to them, then you and I and the ex-Pans will pow-wow."

"Palaver," Paola said, smiling.

"Jaw. Chew the fat," Hans added, also smiling.

Martin was pleased that some excitement had returned.

Rosa Sequoia had performed her latest duties flawlessly, and there was little more talk about what she had seen. The incident seemed to have become an embarra.s.sment to her, and she did not respond to inquiries from the children.

Hakim Hadj's face was less beatifically calm, his manner less polite, though hardly abrupt. He looked tired. He seemed at most mildly irritated, perhaps by a tiny itch he could not get at. The transparent nose of the Dawn Treader Dawn Treader showed stars now instead of abyssal darkness; the chamber was crowded with projection piled upon simulation upon chart and those piled upon neon finger-scribbles hanging wherever s.p.a.ce allowed. Hakim and two a.s.sistants, Min Giao and Thorkild Lax, seemed to know their way through the confusion. Martin stood back and let Hakim approach him. showed stars now instead of abyssal darkness; the chamber was crowded with projection piled upon simulation upon chart and those piled upon neon finger-scribbles hanging wherever s.p.a.ce allowed. Hakim and two a.s.sistants, Min Giao and Thorkild Lax, seemed to know their way through the confusion. Martin stood back and let Hakim approach him.

"We are close to knowing enough for a judgment," Hakim said, black eyes rolling. "We shall have to withdraw our remotes soon, before we enter the cloud, but I think we will have enough evidence by then. Our information about the system is immense, Martin. I have abstracted important details for you. You can look at the orbital structures between planets two and three. They are very interesting, but do not seem active-not inhabited, perhaps. We still have no clue what the five inner ma.s.ses are."

"Close-in power stations?" Martin suggested.

Hakim smiled politely. "They may be reserves of converted anti em, but if so, they are very heavily s.h.i.+elded. They are practically invisible, much less reflective than fine carbon dust and non-radiating, and that makes little sense if they are stores of anything."

"What's your best theory?" Martin asked.

"I posit nothing," Hakim said quietly. "The unknown troubles me, especially something so prominent."

"Agreed."

Hakim continued, moving simulations of the inner planetary surfaces closer to Martin, out of the stacks of projections. He mildly chided Thorkild and Min Giao for their contributions to the clutter. They seemed to ignore him and went about their work, adding even more projections, lists, charts, simulations; blinking, flas.h.i.+ng, moving, blessedly silent displays.

"These worlds are not very active, even for a quiet and advanced civilization. Seismic or other noise through the crust is minimal. The planet seems old. No large-scale activities below ground, natural or unnatural. Such movement would produce vibrations from crustal settling. There is no planet-altering work being done, Martin; perhaps they finished all that thousands of years ago."

"Go on," Martin said.

"Radiation flux from the planets does not exceed expected natural levels. Both rocky inner worlds are either dead, or quiescent, pointing perhaps to a solid-state civilization, that is, all activity confined to information transfer through quiet links, or using noach, as we do."

"No physical bodies? Nothing organic?" Martin asked.

"None visible. If there are organics below the surface, they produce no traces on the surface itself, and that is odd. At this distance we might miss extremely light organic activity, but judging from the telescope images...Here." He pulled up a projection. Smiled at Martin as the image wavered. "My wand works overtime. Thorkild, clear some capacity, please, or shunt it to the moms' systems!"

Thorkild looked up, lost in momerath and graphics. A few of the stacks dimmed or winked out.

The second planet rotated once every three hundred and two hours, surface temperature of one hundred and seventy degrees Celsius, albedo of point seven, light gray and tan, no oceans of course, thin atmosphere mostly carbon dioxide and nitrogen, no oxygen, no geological activity, mountain chains old and worn with no young replacements, no visible structures over a hundred meters in size. Or no structures with a height of more than ten meters...

"All right," Martin said, deliberately quelling his enthusiasm. "Both inner planets are quiet."

"In keeping with the Biblical turn of phrase," Hakim said, "I suggest we call the inner planet Nebuchadnezzar, the second Ramses, and the third, Herod."

Martin made a face. "Might be a bit prejudicial, don't you think?"

"Mere suggestion," Hakim said. His face brightened. "Ah, yes, I see what you are getting at. Herod destroying the first born...Ramses overseeing the captivity of the Jews. Nebuchadnezzar having destroyed the first temple in Jerusalem...I see."

"The names are fine," Martin said.

"Good." Hakim seemed pleased. "Ramses...the next rocky planet, second planet out, is like this..." He drew forth another chart, put it through its paces. "Similar to the first, but cooler-minus four degrees Celsius average temperature, albedo of point seven, atmosphere again contains no oxygen or water vapor. No seismic activity, old mountains-old worlds."

"They might be deserted."

"We do not think so. The strongest evidence of continuing artifice lies in their temperatures versus their distances from Wormwood, and their atmospheric compositions. They are actively controlled environments, but for what sort of organisms or mechanisms-if any-I cannot say."

"Very small machines," Martin mused.

Hakim nodded. "That is difficult to confirm, of course. If they exist, their work is isolated from the surface."

"But the worlds are are active." active."

"Active, yes, but they do not have large numbers of physical inhabitants-living creatures. The moms teach us that many civilizations reduce their presence to information matrices, abandoning their physical forms, and living as pure mentality."

"About half of all advanced civilizations..." Martin remembered, stroking his cheek with one hand.

"Yes. That could be the case here."

Maybe they've become ghosts. Martin shuddered at the thought of abandoning physical form; like spending forever in neural simulation. What would they gain? A low profile, a kind of immortality-but no need to physically colonize the systems they "sterilized" for future use. "You said we could almost make a judgment." Martin shuddered at the thought of abandoning physical form; like spending forever in neural simulation. What would they gain? A low profile, a kind of immortality-but no need to physically colonize the systems they "sterilized" for future use. "You said we could almost make a judgment."

Hakim's face brightened. "I have been teasing, Martin. Withholding the best until last. This is very good. But you judge."

He ordered a series of charts on debris scattered throughout the ecliptic between fifty million kilometers and seven hundred million kilometers from Wormwood. "Dust and larger particles heated by the star, chemical reactions excited by the little stellar wind that does get through...Very interesting."

The dust and debris pointed to intense s.p.a.ceborn industrial activity in the system's past. Much of the debris consisted of simple waste-rocky materials, lacking all metals and volatiles, heavy on silicates.

Manufacturing dust from shaping and processing: trace elements inevitably mixed into the dust, reflecting even more precisely than in the spectrum of Wormwood itself the proportions of trace elements in the killer machines.

"It's more than a close match," Martin said.

Hakim revealed his excitement in a mild lift of eyebrow.

"It's exact," Martin said.

"Very nearly," Hakim said.

"They made the killer machines around Wormwood."

"Perhaps around Leviathan, as well. We are not close enough to judge."

"But certainly here."

"The evidence is compelling."

Martin's skin warmed and his eyes grew moist, a response he had seldom felt before, and could not ascribe to any particular emotion. Perhaps it came from a complex of emotions so deeply buried he did not experience them consciously.

"No defenses?"

"None," Hakim said. "No evidence of defenses on the surface of the inner worlds. The depleted gas giant shows even less activity, a large lump of cold wastes and rocky debris, with a thin atmosphere of helium, carbon dioxide solids, bromine, and spa.r.s.e hydrocarbons. Here is a list."

"Where did the volatiles go?" Martin asked. The list was devoid of hydrogen, methane, and ammonia. The thin haze of helium was so diffuse as to be useless. No swooping down to scoop up fuel, like Robin Hood swinging out of a tree to s.n.a.t.c.h a purse. No swooping down to scoop up fuel, like Robin Hood swinging out of a tree to s.n.a.t.c.h a purse.

"Good question, but I can only guess, the same as you. The star is well over six billion years old. The volatiles could have been lost during birth, with the cold outer worlds getting correspondingly thinner envelopes of atmosphere. But this would be unusual for a yellow dwarf in this neighborhood."

"Even in a multiple group?"

Hakim nodded. "Even so. The volatiles might have fueled early interstellar travel within the group. The pre-birth cloud is also very low on volatiles, remember. Or..."

Martin looked up.

"Most of it could have been converted to anti em for making killer probes."

"That's a lot of probes," Martin said.

Hakim agreed. "Billions, fueled and sent out across the stellar neighborhood. Depleting the outer cloud, the comets, the ice moons, the gas giant, everything...If I may say so, a ma.s.sive and vicious campaign with great risks, at great expense. To be followed logically by a wave of stellar exploration and colonization."

"But we don't see any settled systems beyond the group...It wouldn't make sense to launch such a campaign, and not follow through."

"Ah." Hakim raised his finger. "Centuries must pa.s.s while they wait for the probes to do their work. What if the civilization changes in that time?"

"Seems certain they'd change some," Martin agreed.

"A change of heart, perhaps, or sudden fear of the wrath of other civilizations. Cowardice. Many possibilities."

"What percentage of converted volatiles could be stored in the five ma.s.ses?"

"A minuscule amount of the total estimated gases lost from the system," Hakim said. "We're not yet certain of the size, but each of the ma.s.ses appears to be several thousand kilometers in diameter, which would rule out neutronium, if their densities were uniform."

Thorkild Lax said, "I'm finis.h.i.+ng work on the outer cloud, and Min Giao is redoing our work on the inner dust and debris."

"Dust and debris...how long would it take to push most of it away from the system?"

"Wouldn't happen," Thorkild said. "Most of the dust grains and larger rubble are too big to be cleaned out by radiation. Remember, the stellar wind has been channeled up and out through the poles."

"A good point," Hakim said.

"How much more time do you need?"

"A day?" Hakim asked his colleagues.

"I'll need a break," Min Giao said. "My momerath is fading now."

"A day and a half," Hakim said.

"Fine," Martin said.

They would enter the outer pre-birth material in three days. They would make their decision. Martin had no doubt how the children would decide. The Dawn Treader Dawn Treader would split just beyond the diffuse inner boundaries of the cloud. would split just beyond the diffuse inner boundaries of the cloud. Tortoise Tortoise would begin super deceleration immediately after splitting. would begin super deceleration immediately after splitting.

They could disperse their weapons, carry out the Law, and at the very least, Hare Hare would be outside the system before any defense could touch it. would be outside the system before any defense could touch it.

The second stage of deceleration ended. Martin felt his stronger body jump free, like a highly charged battery. Some of the children felt mildly ill for a few hours, but the illness pa.s.sed.

Jennifer Hyacinth was a slim, chatty, energetic woman who had not impressed Martin upon their first meeting; triangular of face, neither pretty nor unpleasant to look at, with narrow eyes and a habit of wincing when spoken to, as if she were being insulted; thin of arm and large-chested, b.r.e.a.s.t.s sitting on her ribcage as if an afterthought. Jennifer had gradually acquired Martin's respect by the wry and sharp observations she made about life on s.h.i.+p, by her willingness to volunteer for jobs others found unpleasant, and most of all, by her extraordinary command of momerath.

Like Ariel, Jennifer Hyacinth did not trust the moms any more than she had to by working with them or living in an environment made by them. But she had concentrated this distrust into a kind of mental guerrilla action, using her head to gain insight into those things the moms did not tell the children.

Martin put her request to see him into a short queue of appointments for the first half of the next day, and met with her in his early morning, while Theresa organized torus transfer drills for the bombs.h.i.+p pilots.

Jennifer laddered into his quarters in the first homeball, face taut, clearly uncomfortable.

"What's up?" Martin asked casually, hoping to relax her. She widened her eyes, shrugged, narrowed them again, as if she really had nothing to say, and was embarra.s.sed by having called the meeting in the first place.

"Jennifer-"he said, exasperated.

"I've been thinking," she blurted defensively, as if he were to blame for her discomfiture. "Doing momerath and just thinking. I've reached some conclusions-not really conclusions, actually, but they're interesting, and I thought you'd like to hear them...I hoped you would."

"I'd like to," Martin said.

"They're not final but they're pretty compelling. I think you can follow most of it..."

"I'll try."

"The moms aren't telling us everything."