‘I think surrendering is our only sensible course. If we fought we might inflict a small amount of damage on a fleet of this size, but it would amount to little in absolute terms and almost nothing as a percentage of their number.’
Think of your clan, something said in Greydawn’s mind. ‘I will not surrender!’ he told the ship.
‘Well, I’m going to.’
‘You will do as I say!’
‘Oh no I won’t.’
‘The Attitude Adjuster told you to obey us!’
‘And within reason we have.’
‘It didn’t say anything about “within reason”!’
‘I think one just takes that sort of proviso as read, don’t you? I mean, we are Minds. It’s not like we’re computers. Or soldiers. No offence. Anyway, I have discussed this with the other ships and we have agreed to surrender. The signal has been sent. We have begun deceleration to--’
‘What?’ Greydawn raged, slapping one armoured limb against a screen projector set within his nest-space.
‘--a point stationary relative to Esperi itself,’ the ship’s voice continued calmly. ‘The ROU Killing Time has been designated as receiving our formal consent to place our offensive systems in its control and will meet us at our stop-point to effect the surrender. If you do not wish to capitulate along with us then I’m afraid it will be necessary for me to place you outside my hull - within your space suit, of course - though technically I believe I ought to intern you . . . What do you wish?’
The ship intoned the question as though asking him what he desired for dinner. There was a polite indifference in its voice he found infinitely more awful than any hatred.
Greydawn stared at the cloud of ships for a few moments longer. He shook his eye stalks.
‘I would ask you not to intern me,’ he said after a while. ‘Please place me outside your hull, at once, and then I would ask you to leave me alone.’
‘What, now? We haven’t stopped yet.’
‘Yes, now. If possible.’
‘Well, I could Displace you . . .’
‘That will be acceptable.’
‘There is a tiny risk associated with Displacement--’
The Affronter Captain gave a curt, bitter laugh. ‘I think I might risk that.’
‘. . . very well,’ the ship said. He could hear it hesitate. ‘Your comrades are trying to call you, Captain.’
He glanced at the comms screen. ‘Yes. I can see.’ He selected transmit-only mode on the communicator. ‘Comrades,’ he said. He paused. Since his childhood he had imagined moments like this; never as terrible, never founded on such hopelessness . . . and yet not so dissimilar, all the same. He had made up so many fine speeches . . . Finally he said, ‘There will be no discussion about this. You are ordered to surrender along with your ships and obey all subsequent instructions compatible with honour. That is all.’
He cut off all communications from the other ships. Greydawn bowed his eye stalks. ‘Now, please,’ he said quietly.
And was in space. He looked around, through the suit’s sensors. No ships were visible; only distant stars.
‘Goodbye, Captain,’ said the ship’s voice.
‘Goodbye,’ he said to the ship, then turned off the communicator. He waited a few moments longer before triggering the emergency bolts on the suit and spilling himself into the vacuum to die.
The Heavy Messing, at that point acceding to a request from the Sleeper Service to transmit its log from the point it had been woken on Pittance, looked briefly back at the writhing, cooling form of the Affronter Captain, and sent a small pulse of plasma fire back to put the creature out of its agony.
XIII
The LSV Not Invented Here looked out at the hundreds of warships heaving to around it. It sensed signals flickering between them and the craft it had deployed; its four warships and the superlifters and GCUs it had militarised. It subsequently sensed its own ships altering their targeting procedures, shifting the foci of their attention from the ships the Sleeper Service had dispatched to itself.
The LSV’s Mind booted up the AI cores that would run the ship perfectly well until a replacement for itself could be found, checked they were working properly, then severed all its links with anything outside the physical limits of its Mind core. It ejected all eight of its internal emergency power units from itself.
Its awareness just faded away, like mist dispersed by a freshening wind.
Some hundreds of light years away, the Steely Glint had already considered taking the same course as the Not Invented Here. It had decided not to. It considered that putting its case for the way it had acted and accepting the judgement and sanctions of its peers was the more honourable course.
It studied again the text of the message it had received from the Sleeper Service.
I have been rather more constructively employed over the past few decades than might have been imagined. The following have been manufactured:
Type One Offensive Units (roughly equivalent to Abominator class prototype): 512.
Type Two Offensive Units (equivalent to Torturer class): 2048. Type Three Offensive Units (equivalent to Inquisitor class prototype, upgraded): 2048.
Type Four Offensive Units (roughly equivalent to velocity-improved Killer class): 12 288.
Type Five Offensive Units (based on Thug class upgrade design study): 24 576.
Type Six Offensive Units (based on militarised Scree class LCU, various types): 49 152.
These craft do not represent a hegemonistic threat as they are not independent Mind-supporting entities; they are AI-core controlled, semi-slaved to me and therefore only capable of being used effectively as a single unit, not as a distributed war machine.
All are currently deployed in the volume of space around the Excession.
The surrender of the Affronter fleet of Culture craft has been effected without conflict; the ROU Killing Time - aided by the other regular Culture warships in the volume - has taken charge of the vessels. It would appear that the craft from the ship store at Pittance are personally blameless and have been the victims of an act of treacherous espionage.
Nine Affronter military officers have also surrendered; their commanding officer took his own life. I include a roster of their names and ranks (list attached).
Should the Affront now sue for peace, I propose that I and therefore my war fleet be placed at the disposal of authorities considered acceptable to all concerned. I and the fleet under my command will not be used to prosecute any further hostilities against the Affront or anybody else.
Any other suggested uses will be evaluated on their merits. Otherwise it is my intention - in the fullness of time - to dismantle the craft I have constructed and go into a retreat.
I attach a signal file received from the LSV Serious Callers Only (signal file attached).
I also attach records of the confirmatory signals used by the Attitude Adjuster to convince vessels from the ship store at Pittance that they were being mobilised by the Culture as a whole. These have been passed to me by each of the craft concerned (signal files attached).
The implication that the ships from Pittance have been used as part of a conspiracy to trick the Affront into a war has been noted. I imagine that the ships/Minds named in the aforesaid files and those others also concerned in the matter will each wish to make a full explication of their motives, thoughts and actions concerning this alleged stratagem and take any further steps honour dictates. The Mind of the LSV Not Invented Here has taken its own life.
Given the apparent at least partial entrapment of the Affront in this matter, further action against them of a punitive nature might seem to be both excessive and dishonourable.
Please note that a copy of this signal, slightly edited for signal-operational methodology and stripped of codes and ciphers, has been sent to the Affront High Command and Senate as well as to the following news services (list attached) and the Galactic General Council.
Regarding the Excession itself, I hav
e the following to report:
~ Be seeing you.
~ What? Where are you going? the Sleeper Service sent as the Grey Area shot past it.
~ Here; Churt Lyne wants to jump ship.
The Grey Area Displaced the ancient drone into the Sleeper Service.
The giant GSV had finally come to a halt, not far from the thirty-light-year limit the Fate Amenable To Change had discovered and the Excession had, seemingly, set.
The GSV’s war fleet was still deployed, set out in a year’s-radius hemisphere throughout the skein while the Affronter’s fleet of tricked Culture craft gathered together and opened their armament and armour systems to the scrutiny and control of the Killing Time and its comrades. The Affronter officers were transferred aboard the Killing Time still in their space suits while the GSV What Is The Answer And Why? quickly readied secure accommodation for them.
~ Come back!
The Grey Area was too far away.
[tight beam, M8, tra. @4.28.891.7393]
xGSV Sleeper Service
oGCU Grey Area
Come back! What are you doing? Are you trying to ruin everything?
∞
[wide beam, Marain clear, tra. @4.28.891.7393+]
xGCU Grey Area
oGSV Sleeper Service
It’s all right. Goodbye and farewell.
~ What’s it up to? the GSV asked the drone Churt Lyne, hovering in the minibay it had been Displaced to.
~ I really don’t know, the drone replied. ~ It wouldn’t tell me. But I think it was in communication with the Excession.
~ Communication . . .
The Sleeper briefly considered trying to stop the smaller craft. The GCU was heading out past it for the thirty-light-year limit, straight towards the Excession and still accelerating.
The GSV decided to let it go. Its engines would fail . . . about now.
Fail they did, but just before they stopped working the Grey Area carried out a bizarre course manoeuvre, angling its run so that it was falling towards the energy grid; it would coast without power down to the grid and be destroyed.
Madness, thought the Sleeper, but was too far away to do anything.
[tight beam, M8, tra. @4.28.891.7394-]
xGSV Sleeper Service
oGCU Grey Area
What has happened? Why are you doing this? Has your integrity been compromised?
∞
[wide beam, Mclear, tra. @4.28.891.7394]
xGCU Grey Area
oGSV Sleeper Service
No! I’m fine!
The Sleeper didn’t have time for another signal. The Grey Area dived into the energy grid, flickered once and then vanished far, far below in a tiny scintillating flare of radiations.
The GSV inspected the resulting shell of energies. It certainly looked like destruction. The Sleeper studied that final flicker the GCU had given just before it had encountered the grid. It still looked like it had been destroyed, but there was just a hint . . .
A human would have shaken her or his head.
When the Sleeper returned its attention to the Excession, it had gone. There was nothing present on the skein of real space, and no sign of even the merest disturbance on either of the energy grids.
No! thought the Sleeper Service, experiencing a terrible sense of frustration. No! Damn you! Don’t just go, not without some sort of reason, some explanation, some rationale . . .
A few seconds later, the GCU Fate Amenable To Change, as the nearest available craft, was persuaded that it might try approaching the Excession’s last known position. When it did so and passed over the thirty-light-year limit, its engines worked normally and continued to do so all the way in. However, it refused to go any further than the original closest-approach limit it had set itself, over a month earlier.
The Killing Time was more than happy to oblige; it raced in at maximum acceleration and at the very last moment instituted a crash stop, finally coming shuddering to rest exactly where the Excession had been. It reported, disappointedly, that there was absolutely nothing to be seen.
XIV
Ulver Seich sat on the parapet of the tower, swinging her legs. From the roof, it looked like you could see out over an ocean in one direction and a landscape of sea marsh, water meadow and cliffs in the other. It was perfectly convincing but it was just a projection; the bird had tried flying out in a spiral and only got a couple of metres out from the tower’s edge before one of its wings had encountered the solid boundary of the screen field. It was perched on the parapet at the girl’s side now, looking gloomily out at the troubled waves of the sea.
‘Bugger,’ Ulver said, half to herself. ‘It’s gone.’ She kept a watch on developments outside through her neural lace while she looked down at the bird. ‘The Excession,’ she told it. ‘It’s just disappeared.’
‘Good riddance,’ the bird said grouchily.
‘And the Grey Area flew into the grid,’ Ulver said, her voice trailing off for a moment while she inquired what had happened to Churt Lyne. ‘Ah,’ she said, discovering the old drone was safe aboard the GSV.
‘Pah,’ said the bird. ‘It was always a nutter anyway, by all accounts. What’s its highness doing?’
‘What?’
‘The Sleeper. Don’t suppose it’s showing any sign of wanting to end it all, is it?’
‘No, it’s just . . . stationary there.’
‘Too much to hope for,’ muttered the bird.
Ulver kept on gazing out at the sea and swinging her legs. She glanced back at the pallid bulge of the translucent dome. ‘Wonder how they’re getting on?’
‘Want me to find out?’ the bird said, brightening.
‘No. Just you stay where you are.’
‘I don’t know,’ the creature grumbled. ‘Every bastard seems to enjoy ordering me around . . .’
‘Oh, do be quiet,’ Ulver told it.
‘See what I mean?’
‘Shut up.’
12
Faring Well
I
Fivetide dived for the bat ball and missed; he thumped heavily into the court wall and up-ended. He lay on his back, wheezing and laughing on the floor until Onceman Genar-Hofoen limbed over to him, extended a tentacle and helped him haul himself upright.
‘Fifteen all, I think,’ he rumbled, also laughing. He scooped the twittering bat ball up in his racket and ladled it into Fivetide’s. ‘Your serve.’
Fivetide shook his eye stalks. ‘Ha! I think I liked you better as a human!’
II
[tight beam, M2, tra. @n4.28.987.2]
xEccentric Shoot Them Later
oLSV Serious Callers Only
I still say it was somehow a test; an emissary. We were tried and found wanting. It encountered the worst of what we can be and took itself off again. Probably in disappointment. Possibly in disgust. The Affront were too disagreeable, the Elench were too eager, we too hesitant. Our slow gathering of supposedly wise ones about its vicinity might have proved to be a perfectly reasonable course of action and led to who knows what exchanges, tradings and dialogues, but the entity found itself surrounded by all the trappings of war and may even have understood the manner in which its appearance had been used as part of a plot to entrap the Affront so that they could be laid low and have a Cultured peace imposed upon them. It judged us unworthy of intercourse with those it represented and so abandoned us to our miserable fate. Those noxious simpletons who made up the conspiracy should be cursed for evermore; they may have cost us more than even we can imagine. The displays of contrition and programmes of good works that have been undertaken, even the suicides, cannot begin to make amends for what we have lost! How is Seddun at this time of year? Do the islands still float?
∞
[tight beam, M2, tra. @n4.28.988.5]
xLSV Serious Callers Only
oEccentric Shoot Them Later
My dear friend, we do not know what the Excession offered or threatened. We know it was able to manipulate the energy
grid in ways we can only speculate upon, but what if that was the only form of defence it was able to offer to something like the Sleeper Service? For all we know it was an invasionary beach-head which left us because it was met with forces which it estimated presaged resistance on a scale which would prove too expensive. I admit this is unlikely, but I offer it as a balancing possibility in the hope of righting the list of your pessimism.
At any rate, we are arguably better off than before; a conspiracy has been uncovered, any other zealots thinking of indulging in similar pranks will have been roundly discouraged, and even the Affront are behaving a little better having realised how close they came to being taught such a severe and salutary lesson. The war itself never really got going, there was little loss of life and Affronter reparations for the mischief they did create will serve as a minor but nagging reminder of the liabilities which follow on such aggression for some considerable time to come. The implicit lesson of the Sleeper Service’s effectively instantly produced war machine will similarly not have been lost on any other species who might also have been planning Affronter-like adventures, I suspect.
As to the chance we may have missed, well, call me an old bore if you will, but who knows what changes might have attended a meaningful dialogue with whatever the Excession represented (if it represented anything other than itself - again, we can only speculate).
In all this, the seeming indifference of the Elder civilisations still strikes me as one of the most puzzling aspects of the affair. Were they really just indifferent? Did the Excession have nothing to teach those who have Sublimed? There is much here still to be answered, though I suspect the wait could be long; even infinitely so!
Well, the debate will doubtless continue for a long time to come. I confess I am finding the fame and even adulation that has befallen us somewhat tiring. I’m considering a retreat, after I’ve finished going round apologising to those who were involved without their knowledge in this.