by Baen Books
A vibration went through Tranquility and the view in the viewport began to shift. Slowly, an immense rotating structure came into view, a nested set of cylinders tens of kilometers long, with glints of pools of water and the emerald of greenery and the complex geometry of buildings and houses visible as tiny details along the length of the widest. Tunuvun was staring again in wonder at this. "Why are . . . no. Those are buildings built to your people's scale, so that . . . station before us is truly large. I must see it more clearly!"
Tunuvun turned and sprang, with a casual swiftness, towards the airlock. By the time Saul reacted and leapt to stop him, he had already pulled down the lever to open the door.
Fortunately, he hadn't gotten into the lock yet, nor had the chance to trigger the outer door. "Tunuvun, STOP!"
The alien froze in position, and Saul allowed himself a momentary relieved smile. Apparently his long-standing voice of command still carried enough force to convey the imperative, even to an alien. He glanced at Cornelius Ocampo and Rudy-Nine—the two bodyguards had started to their feet in their own panic as it had seemed their guest was about to space himself—and gestured for them to sit back down. Cornelius shot him an "are you sure" look from under bushy eyebrows, and mimed wiping sweat from his forehead. Saul looked back to Tunuvun. "You were going to go outside to see more clearly, were you not?"
Tunuvun closed his eyes slowly, then crossed his arms sharply before him. "How our impulses betray us, Saul. Outside us . . . that is the True Nothing, the 'vacuum' I have heard spoken of. Yes?"
"Yes. There is no air outside at all. I don't know enough about your physiology to precisely grasp what the consequences would be, but it would almost certainly injure or kill you in very short order, and unlike Arenaspace, you would have nothing to help propel you to safety after you leaped out." In the natural spaces of the Arena, the Genasi could shape their tails and to an extent other limbs to the point that they could even "swim" reasonably well through the air.
"I am . . . embarrassed, Saul. As an emissary I am too caught up in the moment. As a leader I should be more aware, more focused. I cannot afford to look like a fool, and even less to die as one."
Saul smiled, still feeling a great relief. "Tunuvun, don't worry. Our friends here," he indicated Cornelius and Rudy, "won't say anything about it, and I certainly won't. Ariane could tell you much about her own . . . missteps. Just remember that very little of the world on this side of the sky is much at all like the Arena, and in some ways it's very, very much less forgiving."
"I am beginning to grasp that, yes. I thank you." His ruby eyes surveyed the other two. "And you; for I saw you began to move to stop me as well."
"It's our job," Rudy said. "Delivering either the Commander or our guest as DOA would look real bad on our record."
The quick shrieking sound was unnerving, but Saul quickly recognized it for what it was: laughter. "Spoken as a true bodyguard! I have worked in your place and I know precisely your meaning!" Another quick bow. "Then I will attempt to think more fully before I act, and rely on you and Saul to catch me if I err again."
"Excellent." During their discussion, the docking sequence had completed. Saul had noted that despite the small accelerations and maneuvers, Tunuvun had adjusted his position with casual efficiency that made Saul look clumsy—and Saul had been traveling in ships maneuvering in microgravity for almost three-quarters of a century. Instinctive recognition of relative accelerations, positions, and balance; his people evolved in the microgravity of Arenaspace.
"What is next, Saul?" Tunuvun asked, as the airlock finally opened—this time to a corridor with breathable air rather than empty space.
"Next, something far more perilous," Saul said with a cheerful grin. "You get to meet our politicians!"
iv.
"Representatives of the Space Security Council and the Combined Space Forces," Saul said, "I present to you Tunuvun, Leader of the Faction of the Genasi."
The council room went silent as Tunuvun stepped into view from behind the rostrum Saul was standing at. The alien Leader strode forward several paces, his heavy tail moving sinuously behind him, and stopped, looking about him with an unreadable expression on his small, delicately-featured face.
He has . . . presence, when he seeks to use it, Elizabeth said to him.
He does that, Saul agreed. How are you feeling? You did well enough awakening after shutdown.
Elizabeth's avatar glanced down; her disconcerted expression was clear, her light skin even more pale than usual. I allowed little of my distress to show, true, but I am still. . . recovering. The sensation of being shut down. . . I do not wish to show it to you. It was unnerving, Saul, in a manner unlike anything else I can imagine. Not quite instantaneous. Just long enough to sense the fading of my self into darkness. It was a relief, in a way, to be almost immediately faced with a direct and simple set of problems. I did not have to think about. . . becoming nothing.
He felt his face tighten in a momentary wince. My God, Liz. How horrid. I will let you transfer to somewhere else before I transition again, then.
I would. . . be most grateful for that, Saul. Thank you.
Elizabeth wasn't usually the sort to invite a hug—her template was very formal indeed—but in this case Saul felt it might be appropriate; when he opened his arms, she leaned in, took a few shaky breaths, then pulled away, straightened herself, and nodded; her smile was steadier. You have but to ask for anything I might give, Elizabeth. You know that.
I have never doubted it, Saul. And it has always meant much to me—and those others of us who depend on you and your allies. Another quick smile. Now pay attention to the reason you're here, Commander.
With an interior smile, Saul returned his attention to the SSC council chamber. Mental dialogue being what it was, of course, only a few moments had passed, and he was in time to catch the first words spoken:
"Welcome to the Solar System, Leader Tunuvun," White Camilla said, their eyes maintaining contact with Tunuvun as they repeated Tunuvun's own spread-armed bow. "It is an honor to meet a Leader of a Faction—other than our own, of course."
Tunuvun's eyes narrowed and widened and his thin lips parted; Saul's translation program annotated that as an ironic smile. "I thank you, but I am hardly the Leader that Captain Austin is. Merely a Master of Challenges who finds himself rather adrift amidst the great shoals of the mighty and the wise."
The short whipcrack laugh was General Esterhauer. "Methinks our esteemed visitor doth protest o'ermuch," she said. "A sought-after Master of Challenges, if I understand the Arena's ways at all, would be someone of consequence in almost any estimation. I'll grant you that it might not make you a master of diplomacy and intrigue, but then again, depending on the Challenges . . ."
Tunuvun bowed again. "Truly I am not adequate in devious intrigue, if you see through me so easily. You are . . .?"
"General Jill Esterhauer, currently in charge of overseeing Sphereside defenses and coordinating with our people here. Still not sure what my official title's going to be."
"Titles mean less than the purpose they represent. Yet I am surprised; most of the species I have met had their . . . structure fully defined many centuries, or more, ago."
"Well, we only just encountered the Arena, really, so figuring out how to deal with a whole new universe might take some time."
Tunuvun rippled his tail, then did a conscious nod, emphasizing his agreement. "As we are new to the actualities of citizenship."
"But you were planning on this for a long time, weren't you?" That was Robert Fenelon. "Your people, that is?"
"Planning is perhaps not the word. The Genasi . . . hoped. Until Sivvis the Honored gave us an unlooked-for chance, planning seemed presumptuous. And even once the chance to Challenge for our own status had fallen into our hands, we knew we might fail—and would have, had not my brother Sun Wu Kung taken our part."
"So how were you chosen Leader—if we may ask?"
"It is allowed," Tunuvun sa
id, with another smile of his eyes, this time without an ironic touch. "Shoal-Pilots and Ranked Champions put forth their suggestions as to who would represent them, and I was fortunate enough to be named most often. I assume this was because more of them have heard of me." A splayed arm gesture that seemed to be a shrug. "I understand the process of such things is more formal and complex for other species."
A ripple of laughter ran around the room, touching even White Camilla's face. "Other species, perhaps," Camilla said, still smiling wryly. "But for Humanity, it was not even so considered and rational an action. Insofar as I understand it, Captain Austin gained her title—and through that, the position of Leader—because none other of her crew wanted the position."
Tunuvun's tail arced and came down. "Then you were singularly blessed by the Arena and Its Fortune, I say, for there are few if any citizens of the Arena who do not respect the Captain, and many who hold her in the highest esteem."
"I do not think most of us would disagree. We were fortunate in a great many things with that first expedition," Saul said. "But if you will permit me, I will speak of our alliance?"
Tunuvun looked at him with a sharp tilt to the head. Indicates slightly embarrassed guilt, Elizabeth noted with the translation program. "Oh, of course, Saul Maginot. I am sorry for the diversion. Please go forward."
"Don't worry yourself about it," Saul said. "You'll be a nine-days wonder here, I'm sure." He turned slightly to scan the entire Council. "Leader Tunuvun—and his people—feel they are tremendously indebted to us, as they credit Sun Wu Kung with their victory over the Vengeance and thus their citizenship in the Arena. Because of this, the Genasi—their entire Faction—have pledged themselves to be full and close allies of Humanity, and wish to render us services to assist us in any endeavors they may be of use in."
Alia Huang rose. "This is a good thing to hear, especially in view of the Factions we know may not be friendly to us . . . but I ask that you clarify what 'full and close ally' means, especially in regards to what we can discuss before our, um, distinguished visitor."
"Of course, Councillor," Saul said. He let Elizabeth remind him of the details and implications. "It means that for most intents and purposes, the Genasi consider our welfare to be their welfare, and—naturally—hope that we reciprocate this. It is closer than a simple mutual defense pact, but includes all the aspects of one—although it is not required that we fully reciprocate."
"You mean it is not necessarily the case that we defend them to the same extent?" Councillor Camilla's eyebrows rose.
"Exactly so—although I would hope that Humanity would do its best to protect all allies it gained, regardless. In this case, allying themselves with Humanity is a matter of both gaining certain status, as we have gained much . . . face, I suppose is the right term, in the Arena, and of gaining certain protections and support that we can provide as the Genasi come to understand this universe—which is as alien to them, I must note, as the Arena is to us."
"Then they—or their Leader, at any rate—would be able to discuss our current . . . challenges as a Faction?" Councillor Huang asked.
Ah. Of course. "Indeed. And if there is such business to be transacted, I think it might be well worth both our time and that of our visitor to address it now." He looked at Tunuvun. "If, that is, you wish to know of and involve yourself in our difficulties?"
Tunuvun's bow was even deeper, and the narrow eyes smiled. "Nothing would please me more, Saul," Tunuvun said in his strange, high voice. "For how can the Genasi offer their aid, when we know nothing of what aid you might need?"
A murmur of agreement rippled around the Council chamber, and Saul smiled. "Then let us to business, then."
v.
"Our entire defense force above our Sphere consists of fifteen ships loaned to us by the Liberated?" White Camilla said; their carefully controlled voice did not entirely conceal a tone of disbelief and concern.
And my answer is not going to make things any better, thought Saul Maginot. "Not quite, Representative Camilla. First, only ten of those vessels are actually warships as such; the other five will serve in support roles. There are also the defense stations for each of our eight Sky Gates, and we are building ground-based defenses."
The slight-figured Camilla stared at him. "And that is the extent of our defense against an anticipated Molothos invasion? We are not required to manufacture any such ships in the Arena, correct? Why are we not having thousands of them fabricated even as we speak? Or am I, and my colleagues, completely misunderstanding the scale of threat presented by these Molothos?"
"I echo my colleague's sentiments," said Jeremiah Britt. "Logistics is my business, and I see no reason we couldn't be drastically increasing our defenses on an almost daily basis."
Saul sighed, and Elizabeth echoed the sound internally. I am afraid that is a discussion you shall have more than once, Elizabeth said on their internal link. You have the perspective of a generalist, while most people are specialists and even more self-focused than they might have been in other centuries.
And now we can ill-afford that kind of compartmentalized thinking, he agreed. But yes, I had best get used to dealing with these kind of questions. Can you deal with outside inquiries for a bit longer?
Elizabeth's brown-haired avatar smiled, and gave a tiny curtsey which sent a ripple through her many-layered skirts. As long as you need. I'm afraid you just be piling up the answers for later.
So many thanks for that. He focused on White Camilla and Britt. "That's quite a few questions in a few sentences, so I'm going to have to take them one at a time. No, that is not the extent of our defenses against Molothos invasion. It is the current extent of our Arena-side defenses, and is not likely to increase drastically in the short term. We are building much larger and more comprehensive defenses here in normal space to deal with any Molothos incursion here."
He raised his hand to forestall more questions. "Please, let me finish. No, we are in no way required to manufacture such vessels in the Arena, and yes, we could produce many of them per day. And no, you are not overestimating the Molothos threat; in all likelihood we are all underestimating them, because human minds, and even reasonable Tayler-level AIs, are not really capable of grasping the scale at which one of the Great Factions operates."
Tunuvun gestured his agreement. "Allow me to emphasize that, Saul, honored members of the SSC. The Great Faction of the Molothos is one of the oldest, and certainly the most feared, of the Factions. It has endured throughout the known history of the Arena, despite being strongly allied to none and often at odds with many. There are no words that could describe their numbers or their cold and calculated power."
Saul could see it was not just White Camilla whose faces were tense with fear; White was merely the spokesperson, and they continued: "Then why —"
"If you will allow me, Commander Maginot?" The calm tenor belonged to Robert Fenelon, PolSim Director for the SSC. "There's a great deal here that most of us simply aren't used to thinking of, and I believe I might be able to put it in terms we can all grasp."
Saul nodded. "You cut through some rather thorny underbrush for us when Ariane was butting heads with the general a while ago; if you can do that again here, I'm sure we'll all appreciate it."
Fenelon turned to the others of the Arena Strategic Council—a ten-person task force of the Space Security Council, focused on determining the nature and scope of threats to humanity posed by the Arena and of course on formulating appropriate responses to those threats, and currently under the scrutiny of the rest of the SSC. "The problem that we face for defending ourselves in the Arena is the lack of automation. I'm not sure all of you quite grasp the scope of that problem. Here, we not only rely on fully-aware artificial intellects, such as our AISages, to perform a wide variety of tasks, we also make use of immense amounts of not-quite-sapient but still highly capable and flexible automation—none of which works in the Arena.
"What that means is that we cannot automate our vessels
much past the level achieved in the early twenty-first century. Machines can detect and alert us to motion and such, but they cannot make decisions in the Arena. For that—and for any reasonable, reliable control of the vessels—human (or perhaps friendly alien) crews are necessary."
Johona Madoff—Nanodefense Clearinghouse Oversight, Planetside Corps—nodded. "I suppose I understand that. But we have fifty-five billion people here in the Solar System." She grinned, making dark-brown eyes sparkle against the red-tinged brown of her skin. "That ought to crew more than ten ships, I'd think."
"One would think, yes," Fenelon agreed. "However—do you know how to pilot an Arena vessel, Representative Madoff? Do any of us here understand how to operate and aim a coherent plasma cannon? And how well would we do these, or a hundred other tasks, while under heavy fire by real, living beings who intend to kill us?" The others were momentarily silent as he went on, "Speaking only for myself, I haven't really the faintest idea how to do any of that, and the thought of being in an actual battle is . . . terrifying. I have studied history enough to have a faint grasp of what that would entail, and I want no part of it."
"But there's plenty of people who do combat sims—even realistic ones," White Camilla said. "Surely those —"
"Even the most realistic sim has a panic button, the ability to just 'bow out,' as they say, and return to the safety of one's home," Fenelon pointed out. "Knowing that you really are committed to a battle, that there is no ‘reset’ button available? That changes one's outlook tremendously, and given the longevity, comfort, and safety of our current civilization, it is unsurprising that there are not all that many people both willing to take that risk, and able to perform the duties that would be required."
He looked at Tunuvun. "Your people, however, are native to the Arena. Would the Genasi be able to help us in this matter? Crew our vessels?"
