John Ringo: Yellow Eyes

There were limits, not so much legal as in the nature of taboos, as to what was appropriate education for a junior God King. As Guanamarioch was very junior, indeed, he kept to those materials that were traditionally within the purview of such as he. These were limited to religious scrolls, and not all of those, and tactical and operational records and manuals. Even of the latter, there were limits. It would not do for an overeducated junior Kessentai to question the rulings of his elders while citing what such and such hero did at such and such place, at such and such a time.

For the nonce, the Kessentai read from the early chapters in the Scrolls of the Knowers, the parts that dealt with the Aldenat’, back in the days when they ruled the People directly.

He read:

And the Aldenat’ chose themselves to be the rulers over the People and the People rejoiced at being the servants of the Aldenat’, who were as gods. And happy were the People to guard their gods. Happy, too, were the People to serve in other capacities, for the People were permitted to assist with the magical arts of science, to advance the plastic arts for the greater glory of the Aldenat’, to ponder the great questions of life and of the universe, to conduct trade on behalf of their gods. And though they were not the equal of the Aldenat’, yet the People rejoiced that they were no less than second.

And then the Aldenat’ discovered the Tchpth and the Tchpth were raised above the People by the Aldenat’. Many of the People’s leaders then said that it was right for the People to be cast low. Yet many were resentful.

Some of those who were displeased rebelled at the affront to their pride and were crushed by those who remained true to the Aldenat’.

Time passed and those of the People who remained true sought to regain their prior status by pleasing the Lords. Yet were they rebuffed.

The People sought to make automatic defensive devices, the better to guard the persons of the Aldenat’. Yet the Aldenat’ said, “No. It is wrong to make weapons that do not need a sentience to perform their function. This displeases us.”

At these words of displeasure, the People were much ashamed. Then sought they the favor of their Lords by seeking out lurking dangers. Yet the Aldenat’ said, “No. It is wrong to attack what has not yet attacked, even if such attack seems certain. That way lies the path of war and death.”

Many were those of the People who fell beneath the claws and fangs of creatures they were not allowed to attack, until attacked. Yet the Aldenat’ remained firm, saying, “It is better that a few should fall, than that the principles be violated.”

Too, the People made vapors to render dangers harmless, saying, “See, Lords, that there will be no shedding of blood this way.”

And the Aldenat’ grew wrathful, saying, “It is unclean and unholy in our sight to contaminate the very air. Cease this, and strive no further to improve the ways of death.”

And the People withdrew, sore confused.

Guanamarioch’s crest had of its own accord erected several times as he read. It lay flat now as, finishing, he thought, Now this just makes no sense. The People would long since have perished following these rules. Then again, perhaps the Aldenat’ didn’t really care if we perished .

In the darkened cubicle McNair watched with interest as the Indowy, Sintarleen, painstakingly applied an almost invisibly thin line of a glowing paste along the scraped bare steel of the bulkhead. There were lights within the compartment, and the bulbs were new, but with the wiring rotted and eaten no electricity could flow. The Indowy worked to the glow of a GalTech flashlight.

Without turning to see the ship’s captain, the alien closed his eyes and leaned against the bulkhead. Eleven places, eight for fingertips, two for palms, and one for forehead had also been scraped bare so that the Indowy could have physical contact with the metal. Even as McNair watched four other Indowy painstakingly scraped more lines and patches bare.

Under McNair’s gaze the thin line of paste began to glow more intently. The Indowy’s breathing grew slightly but perceptibly strained. Gradually, or as gradually as such a thin thread could, the glow faded, then disappeared altogether. After a few more moments the Indowy straightened. His breath returned to normal as a bank of overhead lights began to glow dimly, and then shine brightly.

Only then did Sintarleen notice the captain of the ship.

“I see you, McNair, Lord of the Des Moines clan,” the Indowy greeted.

“What is that… that thing that you did?” asked McNair, not knowing the formalities.

Looking down towards the captain’s shoes — Sinbad was a relatively bold Indowy — the alien answered, “Nanites, lord. They will go into the very body of the ship and create an… an area, a route, through which electrical power can pass without loss to the surrounding metal. It can also transmit commands.”

“I understood that from what you told me before. What I asked was what did you do?”

“The nanites are stupid, lord. Unless commanded to do something they will do nothing. I was… commanding them.”

“You can do that?”

“Yes,” Sinbad answered, and though his head remained deeply bowed McNair thought the alien had answered with what might almost have been personal pride.

The Indowy continued, “It is difficult. Few of my people can master it; though it is our most valuable skill or, rather, set of skills for it is infinitely useful. Many try but lack the… talent.”

“How long until the ship is completely done?” asked McNair.

About to come as close to bragging as an Indowy was capable of, Sintarleen shifted his gaze automatically to his own shoes before answering, “I am not an overmaster, lord, even though I am not a novice. A true master could finish the ship in perhaps two of your months. A true master would have been nearly done by now. It will take me a total of six or more. And Chief Davis has also assigned me other duties. If I may speak frankly, no one but myself can perform those other duties. Since your own human crew has started to assemble, most of my people prefer to hide in the dark and out of sight. They cannot do much of what needs doing so long as a human crew is aboard.”

McNair smiled, but was careful to keep his mouth closed. He had learned, and the learning had been both comical and deeply saddening, that the sight of a carnivore baring his fangs could send an Indowy scampering in unfeigned terror.

I do not understand how an intelligent creature can be made to be so frightened. I do not understand how an intelligent creature can live with so much fear.

McNair refrained from patting the Indowy’s shoulder for a job well done, though he felt he should and though Sinbad certainly deserved it. In truth, he had no idea what effect that would have, but suspected it would not be good. Instead he just said, “You are doing excellent work, Mister Sintarleen. Carry on.”

Emerging topside from the bowels of the Des Moines , McNair took a deep breath of fresh air. There were no Indowy up here. Instead the first of the human crew along with several hundred civilian workers slaved away to refurbish the ship’s exterior.

Some of those exterior fixes were merely aesthetic. Most however, went to meat and bones issues. Forward, for example, a remarkably long eight-inch gun hung by its cradle as it was lowered to a gaping, gunless hole on the port side front of number two — the central — turret. Behind McNair a different crane held one of the two modular pebble bed reactors, sans fuel, which would be fed in later. Parts and assemblies littered the nearby dock. Some of these had come out of the ship and were merely piled in a great heap. Their destination was the scrapyard. Others were intended to go into the ship. These were laid out with considerably greater care and in fairly precise order.