by Ben Jeapes
“And step-through,” Gilmore said.
“Precisely. The scout was carrying all the parts needed for a step-through generator and the databanks gave us enough information to assemble it. What we couldn’t do was design a computer that could handle the mathematics, so we had to interface with the scout’s own computer while the drive was on. That’s why we kept it.”
“That’s what you were jettisoning?”
“No, just the generator, and the surrounding module.”
“Why?”
“Because, we discovered, the generator emits a field which disrupts the bonds of ferro-polymer. Imagine it being magnetised, all the dipoles being aligned, but in several dimensions. The Rusties take this for granted so of course this fact wasn’t mentioned, or if it was, it had got corrupted.”
“Ah,” Gilmore said. Then: “But our ships all went through the step-through point.”
“This field is a local by-product of what goes on in the generator. It’s not the same as the field that creates the point. But it happened: it infected the bot that carried the generator out, and when we brought it back in, it spread into the rest of UK-1. Before too long it would have reached load-bearing bulkheads. All we could do was cut out the entire affected area and throw the generator into space. We’ll get a properly shielded generator off the Rusties for the return trip.”
“Then why the charade?” Gilmore said. “Why not just tell the truth and say your generator was posing a hazard? Or ask them to shield it for you?”
“Because-” The prince snapped his fingers, the display vanished and the lights came back up. He stalked back to his chair with a look of distaste. “Because the moment they set eyes on it, they would know it was one of theirs. Because we didn’t want the Rusties to know we cheated. Because I lost my nerve, Captain! So much data was missing from the scout. We just about had the rules of the Convocation worked out, but just in case, just in case we had done something that invalidated the procedure ... I wasn’t prepared to risk it.”
“Show it again,” Gilmore said. The prince complied and the wrecked Rustie ship appeared in mid-air again. Gilmore shook his head. “Because of that, because you tricked them, because of your deception, I fired three nuclear warheads in anger. You despicable little man.”
“If I cared one whit what you thought of me, Gilmore,” the prince said, “I’d say it was because of Krishnamurthy that you fired three nuclear warheads in anger, not me. But I don’t intend to justify myself to you because your approval is of no interest or relevance.”
He checked his watch.
“And now I must be off,” he said. “A small treaty to sign. I’d offer you a seat in my boat, Captain, but-”
“Go to hell,” Gilmore muttered, and headed for the door.
“I won’t be a bad king, Captain,” the prince called. Gilmore didn’t break step.
“There’s more,” the prince added. “Since you’re so fond of the truth, you might as well know it all.”
But Gilmore had already heard the rest. The wrecked Rustie ship had been the missing piece of the equation: everything else had fallen into place when he saw it. The data that suddenly made Polyglot work; the prince’s casual, off-hand approach to the entire delegation business ... and the other thing.
And so he just smiled. “Good day, sir,” he said. “I expect I’ll see you at the signing.”
- 27 -
25 May 2149
The landing boat, borrowed from Bruxelles, blazed down through the Roving’s atmosphere. In the aftermath of the Convocation there wasn’t much call for regular ferrying from orbit to ground, and the passenger compartment was empty but for Gilmore.
Despite now knowing everything – or perhaps because he did – resentment burned within him and part of him wondered if Plantagenet had played on it. How much did the AI know about human feelings?
He could still remember the AI’s calm, measured tones ...
*
“Do you know why you were appointed to command Ark Royal, Captain? I will tell you. You were appointed because King Richard considered you, by human standards, to be a not particularly good leader of men and women.”
“By human standards? Who else’s standards would matter?”
“The Rusties’, of course. Do you know how Iron Run became leader of the Rustie nation? At first he was appointed as ruler of the Rusties by the Ones Who Command, but he keeps his position because of his ability to control the twelve Clan leaders. By and large the easiest thing in the world is for a competent Rustie to control a large group of Rusties. A pride senior controls about 100 Rusties, a lodge senior controls about 50 pride seniors, a Clan senior controls about 20 lodge seniors. Iron Run is at the peak of this pyramid, as far as the Rusties are concerned, because he can control twelve, just twelve, Clan seniors. You see it’s quite the opposite to human seniority, in fact.”
“No it isn’t,” Gilmore said. “Some would say it’s easier to control a vast corporation than a few ambitious men and women on the board.”
“The head of a corporation still runs the corporation. The fact is, senior humans are put in charge of large numbers of individuals. Senior Rusties are put in charge of small numbers.”
“Well, by that logic, the best Rustie would be the Rustie who commands itself.”
“Indeed, and that is what Iron Run does. It is a rare trait: their instinct is to seek the approval of the pride. Please don’t argue, Captain: I am simply telling you how it is.”
“Where on earth do you get this from, anyway?” Gilmore demanded.
“I imagine, from the same place as the translator data. Again, I did not need to know.”
[Well, he knew now.]
“Keep going,” Gilmore said, fascinated.
“Now, look at our world through Rustie eyes, Captain. Look at Earth. Billions of people, immense nation states. Quite unremarkable, as far as the Rusties are concerned. Then look at UK-1. A mere seven thousand people living under one ruler. A joke to the rest of your species but, to them, it is amazing.”
“Then we already had a head start,” said Gilmore.
“Indeed, and King Richard resolved to keep it. It was obvious that the other nations were going to send their biggest and best ships on the delegation, so UK-1 submitted a ship with a crew of six. And you, Captain, have their unswerving loyalty, as Arm Wild no doubt reported to his seniors.”
“I was chosen,” Gilmore said, to get it straight, “because throughout my career, I have consistently been unable to rise above a certain level of command.”
“Exactly,” Plantagenet said ...
*
The Dome was slightly battle scarred but otherwise as Gilmore remembered it. The people, though, behaved differently. Beforehand there had been tension, of course: the Convocation lay ahead of them all and who knew who would win it? But there had been a nervous, jokey familiarity too.
Now there was just gloom. Gilmore wondered how much of that was regret at the fate that lay ahead of the Rusties, and how much was the simple fact of being defeated.
He had sent his message on ahead even before the shuttle touched down: now, here he was in the Dome’s garden, pacing and wishing Arm Wild would get a move on. There was nowhere sufficiently private in the Dome, so Gilmore had arranged to meet in this out-of-doors venue.
“Captain Gilmore.”
Gilmore startled; after all that, he hadn’t seen the Rusties approach. Arm Wild and another one: Gilmore looked at it curiously.
“This is Spar Mild, Iron Run’s mouthtalker,” Arm Wild said. Then he indicated a device dangling from his harness. “This emits a field that dampens air vibrations around is. We should be safe from eavesdropping. Your message intrigued us.”
“Thank you. Thank you for coming.” Gilmore paused for a moment to gather his talk. His carefully crafted phrases were all evaporating from inside his head. “You, um, must be busy.”
“Iron Run and his immediate entourage are busy. I was able to leave easily, and as you sa
id you had an urgent message for Iron Run, Spar Mild was dispatched to collect it.”
“Are you-” Damn! It still wasn’t easy to say; he was still trying to find a way in. “Are you happy with the result of the Convocation?”
Arm Wild paused.
“We are pleased to have new leaders, though they will never replace the Ones Who Command in our hearts-”
“Cut the crap, Arm Wild!” Gilmore snapped. A wave of irritation suddenly broke the barrier that was holding him back. “Are you honestly pleased that things have worked out as they did? Tell me as ... as someone you’ve been through a battle with. Or as a friend.”
Again, Arm Wild paused. “As a friend?” Another pause. “No. Spar Mild?”
“Criticism of the Ones Who Command is not seemly,” said Spar Mild, “but the humans are not yet the new Ones Who Command. No, I am not pleased. I have studied the record of the Confederation government, and although its delegate has been replaced I still do not look forward to being its subject.”
“And my government? The UK?” Gilmore said.
“I know you have issues with Prince James,” said Arm Wild, “but we have no difficulties there.”
“The Ones Who Command have spoken,” Spar Mild said. “We accept their command.”
“That’s exactly it!” Gilmore shouted. He made himself calm down. “You can’t accept this decision.”
The Rusties looked at him and Gilmore remembered, absently, Peter Kirton saying that for the first time he had been able to read their bodytalk. Like Kirton, he was seeing sheer surprise.
“The Ones Who Command have spoken,” Spar Mild said again.
“And how many are there left of them?” Gilmore demanded.
“There are five,” Arm Wild said.
“And how long do they expect to live?”
“It is only the machines keeping them alive now. Once they have formalised the handing over I suspect they will no longer bother to stay alive.”
“So, for the sake of five Ones Who Command-” Gilmore knew how the Rusties venerated their creators but he was deliberately oblivious to any hurt he might cause. “-five dying Ones Who Command, you are willing to consign the millions of First Breed now living, and future generations, into our tender mercies? How long do you think we’ll respect you as a species, without ... without enslaving you ourselves?”
“Enslaving? Are you privy to some agenda of which we are unaware?” Arm Wild said.
“No.” Gilmore shook his head. “No, I don’t know anything about any of our plans, but I do know my own species.”
“Captain Gilmore,” said Spar Mild, “is this the message you have for Iron Run? Because although I promise to deliver it, I know he will not accept it.”
“We need leadership,” Arm Wild said. “Surely this was explained?”
“Leadership!” Gilmore said. He cast around mentally for an example. “Look, handling spaceships is a complex matter, complications come up all the time, but your prideships are all crewed by the First Breed! They can’t refer to the Ones Who Command every time something goes wrong. They can do it themselves!”
“Yes, we can be trained-” Arm Wild said.
Gilmore pressed on. “And if one of your navigators plotted an optimum course between planets, and a One Who Commands told you to burn all your fuel in a way that would leave you drifting in space without hope of refuelling, which would you choose?”
“Obviously, the former-”
“And when you were young, when you were born, could you do half the things you can now?”
“Of course not-”
“But now you can walk and you can talk ... and why? Because you learnt. You see? You don’t need an adult to show you how to do everything. And you don’t need the Ones Who Command.”
“It is more complicated than that,” Arm Wild said. “I studied a lot of Earth history for this mission. Do you know how the scientist Albert Einstein devised the theory of relativity? He began by imagining himself inside a light beam, travelling through space. That kind of imagination is not given to many humans, and not to any First Breed at all. We can look after ourselves but we cannot innovate, and yet, in the world in which we now live, innovation is required. You saw the records of the alien race that wiped out its neighbours. There is no precedent for that! If that race invents step-through and turns up in Roving orbit, we will not be able to handle the situation.”
“That is the problem,” Spar Mild said. “How are we to handle crises? New situations? Please, tell us that.”
*
<
[Interrogative] Iron Run said.
<
<
<
<
<
[Helpful] <
[Dominance] said Iron Run. The other two immediately fell silent.
[Emphasised] Iron Run added. It was still aware of the momentary uncertainty it had just shown, a hesitancy unbecoming in the Senior of the nation, and hoped that the other two had been so caught up in their enthusiasm that they had not noticed.
Because beneath the dominant pose – head just so, feet just so, just the right amount of pheromones in the air – Iron Run was seething with doubt. It did not like the choice its masters had made either; but it had sworn to obey.
[Command] <
One by one, they did just that. The first were hesitant but, as Iron Run went round the circle, so confidence picked up as each speaker realised it was not alone in its views.
[Interrogative] <
Another canvassing of opinions, after which Iron Run looked at them impassively, still holding the command pose.
They would follow it, of that there was no doubt. It was experienced enough to recognise the signs of an impending challenge and there were none. Leadership came when the desires of the led were not sufficiently strong to counter the desires of the leader: where the two lines on the graph crossed, a new leader arose.
They would follow it, and it knew what it must do.
<> it said. <>
A pause.
[Reluctance] <
*
Crowds. Gilmore hated crowds, and the centre of the Dome was packed. He worked his way through the packed mass of uniforms and smart suits, forced almost to shout his ‘excuse me’s over the hubbub. Why couldn’t Rusties be seven feet tall? They’d be a lot easier to spot ...
Arm Wild had to be here somewhere. Had to be-
Got him. The Rustie was standing on the dais where the signing would be done, talking to another of his kind. Gilmore shouldered his wa
y towards him, no longer caring whose toes he stepped on or whose drinks he jostled.
“Arm Wild!” he gasped as the pressure of humanity behind him squeezed him out into the open space.
Arm Wild turned to see him. “Captain Gilmore, hello. It will not be long now.”
“Did you talk to Iron Run?”
“I did, and it was most interested, but it has sworn loyalty to the Ones Who Command and regrets it cannot implement your plan.”
Gilmore’s heart plummeted.
“But-”
“Excuse me,” Arm Wild said, as the other Rustie spoke in their own language. “I am needed,” Arm Wild added, and walked off.
Two minutes later, the ceremonies began.
Gilmore had won himself a front-row position in his desire to speak to Arm Wild and he didn’t relish fighting his way back through the crowd, so he got to see everything. Prince James and Subhas Ranjitsinhji approached the dais side by side but managing to make it look as though they were lightyears apart. Ranjitsinhji lacked the smug, superior assurance of his former master; however, he carried himself with a dignity that showed the considered himself at least the prince’s equal. The prince’s poise was similar and when the two men half-nodded, half-bowed to each other, Gilmore had a sudden premonition that with Krishnamurthy out of the way and after a bit of time, these two might actually agree to get on and cooperate. The poor, poor Rusties.
James and Ranjitsinhji took their seats at the table on the dais, and then the Ones Who Command arrived.
That was when the assembly fell silent, as the five globes swept into the Dome’s central chamber. Gilmore, like everyone else, couldn’t take his eyes off the five wizened almost-Rusties. The last of a race. Who could say they had seen one of those before?
Last of all came Iron Run. It was the first time Gilmore had seen the First Breed Senior without its entourage, but the lone figure had a poise that in no way made it seem alone.
