B. Larson: Battle Station

“I speak the truth,” I said. “I’ve investigated primitive cultures such as yours before. You have much to learn from me. I offer you a helping hand-in the spirit of friendship.”

“Insults!” came the response. “It is as we suspected. Insults often follow errors.”

“I’ll prove my point,” I said. “Your investigator failed because he did not alter the programming script of his ship. He allowed it to continue picking up new pilots to test against him. This function can be turned off.” I continued, explaining how to stop a Nano ship from picking up new pilots and killing people whenever it felt like it. I didn’t stop there, however. I lectured them on the niceties of the nanite injections, which would allow the pilots to pick up passengers without chaining them to walls. I even explained how individuals could be picked up and dumped at low altitude, harmlessly. That would mark them as failures and trick the ships into ignoring them. Lastly, I told them how to script visual systems into the ship’s walls so they could perceive their environment using the ships sensors.

There was a pause when I was finished. Marvin squirmed his metal body closer to the forward wall. He rasped on the hull, making a grating sound that set my teeth on edge. He studied the display of metallic beads with a number of cameras. “I believe they are decelerating, Colonel Riggs,” he said.

I smiled and nodded. “They know another professor when they hear one.”

What came next was a barrage of questions. I fielded them all, and told them everything I could-with certain reservations. I didn’t reveal our numbers, or our strength. I didn’t tell them about the minefield that lay beyond the ring, either. I simply indicated we had nothing to fear from their paltry three hundred-odd ships. My arrogance was complete, and before they were within laser range, they’d come to a complete halt. Their fleet faced my single ship, and we sat there in space, eyeing one another suspiciously.

“Colonel Riggs,” Marvin said, interrupting me during one of my lengthy speeches. This one was on the topic of defeating Macros with ground forces.

I paused the transmission and turned to him. “What is it, Marvin?”

“I’ve calculated a significant probability these biotics are simply learning all they can from you before executing their original plan.”

I nodded. “I’ve thought of that, too. But I’m hoping to instill enough doubt in them to keep them on their side of the ring. If we know so much, and are willing to give it up freely, we might be worthy of their fear. No matter how self-confident they are, they know I waltzed in here and took out one of their people without a problem. I’ve fed them a lot of information, which should impress them despite their natural arrogance. If they are academics, as I feel they are, there really isn’t any way to impress them other than to demonstrate you are smarter than they are. They’ll still hate me, but they may also respect me.”

After another hour of mostly one-way lecturing, they had had enough at last.

“We feel it is now our duty to respond in kind,” they said while I was taking a break. My throat was dry. “There are a number of misstatements in your statements, which we have carefully cataloged.”

Prissy in the extreme, they proceeded to go over statements I’d made that were in any slight fashion contradictory, or unclear in meaning. I listened, murmured appreciative responses now and then, and never became annoyed. Again, this was part of the academic process I was thoroughly familiar with. Faced with superior knowledge, many nerds turned to nit-picking to save face. This was an important shift in demeanor, however. They’d moved from the role of fellow professors to worst-case students.

I let them have their fun. I acknowledged every tiny flaw in wording and other inconsistencies they’d found, and thanked them for the input. I felt in them a new swelling pride. I’d injured that pride by pointing out I knew a lot about Nano ships they hadn’t figured out yet. Now was the time to build them back up. It was irritating, but it was a technique that often served to defuse this type of personality.

I learned a fair amount concerning their species as I endured their lectures. They were careful not to reveal too much. They admitted to being from the warm oceans of the moon-worlds I’d seen floating around the gas giant. They were an aquatic species, and had only just begun to master basic spaceflight when the Nano ships arrived. Plunging down into their oceans and scooping up individuals from their rocky warrens in the seabed, they’d been forced to slay one another in what was now a familiar pattern. Prior to that, Macro ships had cruised through the system and destroyed all their satellites and observatories. They had not done much else with their worlds-possibly because they were relatively low in metal content. Being heavily covered in seas, the original Macros had passed them by going from ring to ring. The lobster people had watched the machines fearfully for years before the Nanos showed up. Now, to their surprise, every time a Macro ship appeared their new Nano vessels swarmed it and brought it down.

Most importantly, I learned they’d finished off the Macros that we had chased out of the Eden system. They’d destroyed them, but knew there were others that came through this system from time to time from places further out along the chain of rings.

As they spoke, I could not help but think of the billions of stars in our galaxy alone. How far did the Macro Empire extend? How many ships did they have in total? Were we fleas on a mouse? Or much worse, fleas on an unimaginably huge behemoth that could never be brought down? Really, it depended on the rings, and the extent of them. The Crustaceans didn’t know anything about that, unfortunately. They had been unaware of the rings until the invasions by the Macros and Nanos.

At length, we exhausted one another. We eventually agreed to reconvene for more talks at a future time. In the end, the ship and the Crustaceans allowed me to float back to Eden through the ring. As I drifted out of the star system, I dragged Marvin behind me. He was trying to look as inert as possible.

Before I crossed over into the Eden system, I took the opportunity to look back at the twin suns one last time. I figured these Crustaceans were living on borrowed time. The Macros had bypassed them for now, seeking more valuable targets. But they would get around to this aquatic species eventually, even if they were a relatively low priority.

I had to wonder about the next star system in this chain of rings-and the systems beyond that. The number of life-supporting stars seemed high, but possibly that was just due to the choices of the ancients who had made this highway of rings. Maybe they’d purposefully strung together worlds that teemed with life.

All told, how many other biotic species were out there, suffering under the heels of the machines? I doubted I would ever know the full truth.

When I reached the Eden System, I discovered a minor panic was in full swing. My helmet buzzed with command chatter. The officers were arguing about who was in charge of this mission, now that I was absent without leaving instructions. I winced guiltily. They’d figured out I was missing, and had no clear chain of command. Normally, it would be simple enough to determine who was in command. The most senior highest-ranking officer should win out. But technically, that was Commodore Decker, who had yet to leave the system. He was several light-hours away, heading for the next ring, but hadn’t gone through it yet.

That was the crux of the argument. On closed channels, they fought about whether they were obligated to contact Decker and ask for his orders. Most knew what that meant: he would order them to withdraw immediately. Some wanted to do this anyway, following the book. Others wanted to wait a bit and see if I came back-simultaneously giving Decker the time required to exit the system and thus be removed from the equation.