by Vernor Vinge
“You know, we really need to get localizers aboard Hammerfest.” The request had become a ritual at the beginning of Ritser Brughel’s security briefings. Today, maybe Ritser was in for a surprise.
“Anne’s people haven’t finished their evaluation.”
The Vice-Podmaster leaned forward. Over the years, Ritser had changed more than most. Nowadays, he was on-Watch almost fifty percent, but he was also making heavy use of medical support and the Hammerfest gym. He actually looked healthier than he had during the early years. And somewhere along the way, he had learned to satisfy his…needs…without producing an unending stream of dead zipheads. He had grown to be a dependable Podmaster. “Have you seen Reynolt’s latest report, sir?”
“Yes. She’s saying five more years.” Anne’s search for security holes in the Peddler localizers was close to impossible. In the early years, Tomas had been more hopeful. After all, the Qeng Ho security hackers had had no ziphead support. But the quagmire of Qeng Ho software was almost eight thousand years deep. Every year, Anne’s zipheads pushed back their deadline for certainty another year or two. And now this latest report.
“Five more years, sir. She might as well be saying ‘never.’ We both know how unlikely it is that these localizers are a danger. My zipheads have been using them for twelve years on the temp and in the junked starships. My zips aren’t programmer specialists, but I’ll tell you, in all that time the localizers have come up as clean as anything Qeng Ho. These gadgets are so useful, sir. Nothing gets past them. Not using them has its own risks.”
“Such as?”
Nau saw the other’s faint start of surprise; this was more encouragement than Ritser had received in some time. “Um. Such as the things we miss because we aren’t using them. Let’s just look at the current briefing.” There followed a not-too-relevant discourse on all the recent security concerns: Gonle Fong’s attempts to acquire automation for her black-market farms; the perverse affection people of all factions had developed for the Spiders—a desirable sublimation, but a potential problem when the time for real action finally arrived; the proper level for Anne’s paranoia. “I know you monitor her, sir, but I think she’s drifting. It’s not just this fixation about system trapdoors. She’s become significantly more possessive of ‘her’ zipheads.”
“It’s possible I’ve tuned her too edgy.” Anne’s suspicions about sabotaged zipheads were totally amorphous, quite unlike her usual analytical precision. “But what does that have to do with enabling localizers in Hammerfest?”
“With localizer support in Hammerfest, my snoops could do constant, fine-grain analysis—correlate the net traffic with exactly what is happening physically. It’s…it’s a scandal that our weakest security is in the place where we need the strongest.”
“Hmm.” He looked back into Ritser’s eyes. As a child, Tomas Nau had learned an important rule: Whatever else, never lie to yourself. Throughout history, self-deception had ruined great men from Helmun Dire to Pham Nuwen. Be honest: He really really wanted the lake that Qiwi had shown him under Hammerfest. With such a park, he would have made something of this squalor, a splendor that the Qeng Ho rarely exceeded even in civilized systems. All that was no excuse to break security—but maybe his self-denial was itself making things worse. Take a different tack: Who appears to be pushing this? Ritser Brughel was awfully enthusiastic about it. He must not be underestimated. Less directly, Qiwi had created this dilemma: “What about Qiwi Lisolet, Ritser? What do your analysts say about her?”
Something glittered in Ritser’s eyes. He still held a homicidal hatred for Qiwi. “We both know how fast she can twig the truth—close surveillance is more important than ever. But at the moment, she’s absolutely, totally clean. She doesn’t love you, but her admiration for you is nearly as strong as love. She is a masterpiece, sir.”
Qiwi was twigging about every other Watch now. But her last scrubbing was very recent—and extending the localizer coverage would keep her under an even tighter watch. Nau thought it over for a moment more, then nodded. “Okay, Vice-Podmaster, let’s bring the localizers to Hammerfest.”
Of course, the Qeng Ho localizers were already aboard Hammerfest. The dustlike motes spread on air currents, stuck to clothes and hair and even skin. They were ubiquitous throughout all inhabited spaces around the rockpile.
Ubiquitous they might be, but without power the localizers were harmless pieces of metallic glass. Now Anne’s people reprogrammed Hammerfest’s cable spines—and extended them into the newly dug caves beneath. Now, ten times a second, microwaves pulsed in every open space. The energy was far below biological-damage thresholds, so low that it didn’t interfere with the other utilities in place. The Qeng Ho localizers didn’t need much power, just enough to run their tiny sensors and communicate with their nearest neighbors. Ten Ksec after the microwave pulses were turned on, Ritser reported that the net had stabilized and was providing good data. Millions of processors, scattered across a diameter of four hundred meters. Each was scarcely more powerful than a Dawn Age computer. In principle, they were the most powerful computer net at L1.
In four days, Qiwi finished digging out the cave, and emplaced the wave servos. Her father was already brewing soil on the uplands. The water would come last, but it would come.
After the fact, Nau wondered how they had managed without the localizers all this time. Ritser Brughel had been absolutely correct. Before, their security had been all but blind in Hammerfest. Before, the Qeng Ho temp had in fact been a safer place for secure operations. Nau supervised Brughel and his snoops in a thorough, many-day sweep of all Hammerfest, and then of the starships and the warehouse cloud. He even broke with tradition and ran the localizers for 100Ksec in the L1-A arsenal vault. It was like shining a spotlight into dark places. They found and closed dozens of security lapses…and found not a single trace of subversion. Altogether, the experience was a wonderful confidence builder, as when you check for house parasites, find none, but also see where to put poison and barriers against future infestation.
And now, Tomas Nau had greater knowledge of his own domain than any Podmaster in Emergent history. Ritser’s snoops, using the localizers, could give Nau the location and emotional state—even cognitive state—of anyone in Hammerfest. After a time, he realized that there were experiments he should have undertaken long before.
Ezr Vinh. Maybe something more could be done with him. Nau studied the fellow’s biography again. At the next briefing, he was ready. This was Vinh’s standard meeting time. It was just the two of them, but by this time the Peddler was very used to the interaction. Vinh showed up at Nau’s office to discuss his summaries for the last ten days, the progress he was seeing with the ziphead groups in their understanding of the Spider world.
Tomas let the Peddler rattle on. He listened, nodded, asked the reasonable questions…and watched the analysis that spread across his huds. Lordy. The localizers in the air, on Vinh’s chair, even on his skin, reported to the Invisible Hand, where programs analyzed and sent the results back to Nau’s huds, painting Vinh’s skin with colors that showed galvanic response, skin temperature, perspiration. Standard graphics around the face showed pulse and other internals. An inset window showed what Vinh was seeing from his place across the desk, and mapped his every eye motion with red tracks. Two of Brughel’s snoops were allocated to this interview, and their analysis was a flowing legend across the top of Nau’s vision. Subject is relaxed to tenth percentile of normal interview level. Subject is confident but wary, without sympathy for the Podmaster. Subject is not currently trying to suppress explicit thought.
It was more or less what Nau would have guessed, but with a wealth of added detail, better than the best instrumented soft interrogation, since it was invisible to the subject.
“So the strategic politics are much clearer now,” concluded Vinh, blissfully unaware of the dual nature of the interview. “Pedure and the Kindred have some real advantages in rocketry and nuclear weapons, but they’ve consist
ently lagged behind the Accord in computing and networks.”
Nau shrugged. “The Kindred are a strict dictatorship. Haven’t you told me that the Dawn Age tyrannies couldn’t cope with computer networks?”
“Yes.” Subject reacts, suppressing probable feeling of irony. “That’s part of it. We know they’re planning on a first strike sometime after the sun goes out, so that accounts for their overspending on weapons. And on the Accord side, Sherkaner Underhill is just so enthusiastic about automation that Pedure can’t keep up. Frankly, I think we’re headed for a crunch, Podmaster.” The subject is sincere in this statement. “Spider civilization only discovered the inverse square law a couple of generations ago; their mathematics lagged behind our Dawn Age accordingly. But the Kindred have made solid progress in rocketry. If they show one-tenth the curiosity of Sherkaner Underhill, they’re going to detect us in less than ten years.”
“Before we can completely control their networks?”
“Yes, sir.”
That’s what Jau Xin had been saying, reasoning off of his pilot zipheads. A pity. But at least the shape of the end of the Exile was becoming clear…Meantime:
Subject’s guard is down. Nau smiled to himself. This was as good a time as any to shake up Manager Vinh. Who knows, maybe I can actually manipulate him. Either way, Vinh’s reaction would be interesting. Nau leaned back in his chair, pretended to gaze idly at the bonsai floating over his desk. “I’ve had years to study the Qeng Ho, Mr. Vinh. I’m not under false illusions. You people understand the different ways of civilization better than any sessile group.”
“Yes, sir.” Subject still calm, but the comment brings sincere agreement.
Nau cocked his head. “You’re in the Vinh line; if any in the Qeng Ho really understand things, it should be you. You see, one of my personal heroes has always been Pham Nuwen.”
“You’ve…mentioned that before.” The words were wooden. In Nau’s display, Vinh’s face was transformed by color, his pulse and perspiration spiking. Somewhere over on the Hand, the snoops analyzed, and reported: Subject feels substantial anger directed at the Podmaster. “Honestly, Mr. Vinh, I’m not trying to insult your traditions. You know that Emergents hold much of the Qeng Ho culture in contempt, but Pham Nuwen is a different matter. You see…I know the truth about Pham Nuwen.”
The diagnostic colors were shading toward normalcy, as was Vinh’s heart rate. His eye dilation and tracking were consistent with suppressed anger. Nau felt a fleeting incongruity; he would have read a tinge of fear in Vinh’s reaction. Maybe I have some things to learn from all this automation. And now he was frankly puzzled: “What’s the matter, Mr. Vinh? For once, let’s be frank.” He smiled. “I won’t tell Ritser, and you won’t gossip with Xin or Liao or…my Qiwi.”
The pulse of anger was very stark on that one, no disagreement there. The Peddler was hung up on Qiwi Lisolet, even if he couldn’t admit it to himself.
The signs of anger receded. Vinh licked his lips, a gesture that might have been nervousness. But the glyphs across the top of Nau’s huds said, Subject is curious. Vinh said, “It’s just that I don’t see the similarities between Pham Nuwen’s life and Emergent values. Sure, Pham Nuwen was not born a Peddler, but more than anyone he made us what we are today. Look at the Qeng Ho archives, his life—”
“Oh, I have. They’re a bit scattered, don’t you think?”
“Well, he was the great traveler. I doubt he ever cared much about the historians.”
“Mr. Vinh, Pham Nuwen valued the regard of history as much as any of the giants. I think—I know—your Qeng Ho archives have been carefully gardened, probably by your own Family. But you see, someone as great as Pham Nuwen attracted other historians—from the worlds he changed, from other spacefaring cultures. Their stories also float across the ages, and I’ve collected all that passed through this end of Human Space. He is a man I have always tried to emulate. Your Pham Nuwen was no lickspittle trader. Pham Nuwen was a Bringer of Order, a conqueror. Sure, he used your Trader techniques, the deception and the bribery. But he never shrank from threats and raw violence when that was necessary.”
“I—” The diagnostics painted an exquisite combination of anger and surprise and doubt across Vinh’s face, just the mix that Nau would have estimated.
“I can prove it, Mr. Vinh.” He spoke key words into the air. “I’ve just transferred some of our archives to your personal domain. Take a look. These are unvarnished, non-Qeng Ho views of the man. A dozen little atrocities. Read the true story of how he ended the Strentmannian Pogrom, of how he was betrayed at Brisgo Gap. Then let’s talk again.”
Amazing. Nau had not intended to speak so bluntly, but the evoked effects were so interesting. They exchanged a few meaningless sentences, and the meeting was over. Red shimmered around Vinh’s hands, symptoms of an invisible trembling, as he approached the door.
Nau sat quietly for a moment after the Peddler was gone. He stared off into the distance, but in fact he was reading from his huds. The snoops’ report was a stream of colored glyphs against the landscape of Diamond One. He would read the report carefully…later. First, there were his own thoughts to get in order. The localizer diagnostics were almost magical. Without them, he knew he would have scarcely noticed Vinh’s agitation. More important, without the diagnostics I wouldn’t have been able to guide the conversation, zeroing in on the topics that needled Vinh. So yes, active manipulation did appear feasible; this wasn’t simply a snoop technique. And now he knew that Ezr Vinh had some substantial portion of his self-image bound up in the Qeng Ho fairy tales. Could the boy actually be turned by a different vision of those stories? Before now, he never would have believed it. With these new tools, maybe…
THIRTY-SEVEN
“We should have another face-to-face talk.”
“…Okay. Look, Pham. I don’t believe these lies that Nau dumped on me.”
“Yeah, well everyone gets to write their own version of the past. The main thing is, I want to give you some drill about handling that sort of ambush interview.”
“I’m sorry. For a few seconds, I thought he was on to us.” The boy’s voice was faint in Pham’s ear. Ezr Vinh had become quite good with their secret comm link; good enough that Pham could hear the stunned tone in his voice.
“You did okay, though. You’ll do better with some feedback training.” They talked a few moments more, setting up a time and a cover story. Then the tenuous link was broken, and Pham was left to think on the day’s events.
Damn. Today had been a disaster just barely avoided…or just temporarily avoided. Pham floated in the darkened room, but his vision flitted across the gap of kilometers, to Diamond One and Hammerfest. The localizers were everywhere there now, and they were operational—though the MRI units in the Focus clinic fried any nearby localizers almost immediately. Getting live localizers onto Hammerfest was the breakthrough he had waited years for, but—If I hadn’t meddled with the diagnostics coming off Vinh, we could have lost everything. Pham had known how the Podmaster might use his new toys; similar, if less intense, things had been going on in the temp for years. What he hadn’t guessed was that Nau would have such deadly good luck in his choice of words. For nearly ten seconds, the boy had been sure that Nau had figured out everything. Pham had damped the snoops’ report on that reaction, and Vinh himself had covered for it pretty well, but…
I never thought that Tomas Nau would know so much about me. Over the years, the Podmaster had often claimed to be a great admirer of “the historical giants,” and he always included Pham Nuwen on his list. It had always seemed a transparent attempt to establish a common ground with the Qeng Ho. But now, Pham wasn’t sure. While Tomas Nau had been busy “reading” Ezr Vinh, Pham had run similar diagnostics on the Podmaster. Tomas Nau really did admire his notion of the historical Pham Nuwen! Somehow, the monster thought he and Pham Nuwen were alike. He called me a “Bringer of Order.” That rang a strange resonance. Though Pham had never thought to use the term, it was
almost what he wished of himself. But we are nothing alike. Tomas Nau kills and kills and it is for himself. All I ever wanted was an end to killing, an end to barbarism. We are different! Pham stuffed the absurdity back in its bottle. The really amazing thing was that Nau had so much of the true story. For the last 10Ksec, Pham had watched over Vinh’s shoulder as the boy read through much of it. Even now, he was trickling the whole database out of Vinh’s domain and into the distributed memory of the localizer net. Over the next Msec, he would study the whole thing.
What he had seen so far was…interesting. Much of it was even true. But whether truth or lie, it was not the awed mythology that Sura Vinh had left in the Qeng Ho histories. It was not the lie that covered Sura’s ultimate treachery. And how will Ezr Vinh take it? Pham had already been much too open with Vinh. Vinh was totally inflexible about Focus; he just wouldn’t stop whining about the zipheads. It was strange. In his life, Pham had blithely lied to crazies and villains and Customers and even Qeng Ho…but playing up to Vinh’s obsession left him exhausted. Vinh just didn’t understand the miracle that Focus could make.
And there were things in Nau’s archive that would make it very difficult for Pham to disguise his true goals from the boy.
Pham dipped back into Nau’s version of history, followed one story and then another, swore at the lies that made him out to be a monster…winced when the story was the truth, even if his actions had been the best he could do. It was strange to see his real face again. Some of these videos had to be real. Pham could almost feel the words of those speeches flowing up his throat and out his lips. It brought back memories: the high years, when almost every destination had brought him into contact with Traders who understood what could be made of an interstellar trading culture. Radio had outpaced him and delivered his message with good effect. And less than a thousand years after Little Prince Pham had been given away to the traveling merchants, his life plan was close to success. The idea of a true Qeng Ho had spread across most of Human Space. From worlds on the Far Side that he might never know, to the tilled and retilled heart of Human Space—even on Old Earth—they had heard his message, they had seen his vision of an organization durable enough and powerful enough to stop the wheel of fate. Yes, many of them saw nothing more than Sura had. These were the “practical minds,” only interested in making great wealth, insuring the benefit to themselves and their Families. But Pham had thought then—and Lord, I still want to believe now—that the majority believed in the greater goal that Pham himself preached.
