Линда Нагата - Edges

– negate that! –

Suspicion collapsed. Doubt evaporated. The focus of conversation shifted back to the dispersion of debris.

A submind brought the memory of this incident to the library. Clemantine pursed her ghost lips, annoyed with Urban for stepping in so quickly, but intrigued by the vision of an ancillary ship growing within Dragon ’s tissue.

Vytet was saying, “Can this be right? An interval of fourteen days before the second ship was lost?”

“That is correct,” the Scholar confirmed. “That second ship was Artemis . At the time, it was the closest outrider to Khonsu .”

The Mathematician had warned the debris could remain a hazard for years, but Clemantine was skeptical. “Your model shows the reef affecting the debris for only the first few hours. The dispersion would follow standard physics after that. Surely, after fourteen days, it would be spread too thin to constitute a hazard. Is it possible the fleet was passing through a pre-existing debris field? The shattered remnants of a lost comet or an asteroid? And that both impacts were caused by that primordial hazard?”

“That would be an extremely unlikely occurrence,” the Scholar said. “But it cannot be ruled out.”

Vytet shook his head, the dark-red pelt of his hair a helmet framing his intense expression. “I don’t think that theory is any more unlikely than the idea that some fragment of debris, after fourteen days adrift, just chanced to intersect the course of an outrider.”

“So really, we don’t know what happened that first time,” Clemantine said. “And that means we have no idea what level of risk we’re facing now.”

“In my judgment,” the Scholar said, “that is an accurate assessment.”

She pressed a knuckle to her chin and, thinking out loud, she mused, “I wonder if Urban will want to replace Pytheas ?” Doubt intruded. “I wonder if he can? The philosopher cells perceive the gee deck as an ancillary ship under construction. Would they be willing to support two growing ships?”

The Scholar drew back, looking uneasy, unsure—just a brief slip before he restored his habitual stern expression, but enough to stir in her a vague suspicion.

“It has been done before,” he assured her, gentle-voiced, as if explaining things to a child.

Clemantine wanted details, but Vytet’s enthusiasm was engaged. He jumped back into the conversation, declaring, “I’ve always meant to look into this process. It’s astonishing to think that Dragon has given up enough mass to produce the six original outriders and the two replacements.”

Clemantine cocked her head. Vytet was right. It was astonishing. So much so that something felt off. Her initial suspicion deepened. “All that,” she said thoughtfully, “and yet Dragon remains such a large courser. How much larger was this ship when Urban first hijacked it?”

To her astonishment, the Scholar shrugged—a dismissive gesture, foreign to his usual formal manner. “Early records are incomplete,” he explained. “But this venture has always operated on the edge of possibility.”

Did he mean that as a philosophical answer?

Clemantine traded a puzzled look with Vytet. “In my experience, a massive courser escorted by six outriders constitutes a formidable fleet. I don’t call that operating on the edge.”

Vytet nodded agreement. “Mass will always be a limiting factor, but Urban must have felt very comfortable with Dragon ’s reserves, since he chose to replace both lost ships.”

“All lost ships must be replaced,” the Scholar said. “The sensing capability of the fleet is essential. Without it, Dragon would be vulnerable to a stealth approach from a true Chenzeme starship.”

On the Null Boundary Expedition Clemantine had witnessed just that kind of stealth approach. Her ghost existence did not prevent a shiver as she remembered it. “By the Unknown God,” she murmured. “Near or far, I hope to never see another Chenzeme starship again.”

Urban used radar to study the span and the composition of the debris field, but he was able to detect only a handful of objects, widely scattered. None posed a threat to the fleet.

The Pilot said: *I need Pytheas to be replaced.

*It will be , Urban assured him. *In time .

The outriders held backups of Dragon ’s library, but they served primarily as scouts and watch posts. All were part of Dragon ’s telescope array. With Pytheas gone, the Pilot’s oversight of the Near Vicinity was degraded.

*It will be replaced in less time if we initiate growth now , the Pilot carped.

Urban strove to keep his voice soothing and reasonable. *You know the gee deck has reduced our reserves of essential elements. You know the Engineer has advised against initiating growth of a new outrider until those elements can be replaced.

*The Engineer offered a second option.

*I’m not going to cannibalize the gee deck , Urban told him.

By the Unknown God, Clemantine would kill him if he undid all their work of the past two years. The gee deck needed to be finished.

He told the Pilot, *You know I have to balance multiple priorities. Use what you have. Monitor the Near Vicinity as best you can.

After a day, when there was nothing more to see or do, Clemantine retired again to the archive. As before, her ghost roused at regular intervals to conduct a routine status check of the ship.

Urban tracked her ghost during those inspection tours, each lasting less than a minute. He adjusted his time sense to match the time that she perceived, even as he remained aware of every second, every hour, every day that slipped past.

Five days, and then ten, and then fourteen.

The first time Urban had lost outriders, fourteen days had separated the two incidents. This time, the fourteenth day passed quietly. The fifteenth day followed it, and then the sixteenth.

Twenty days went by. Then thirty. Forty. Fifty. Sixty.

Urban dared to believe they’d be all right.

Then the sixty-third day arrived and his sanguine belief shattered. From his post on the high bridge, he saw the explosion—a diaphanous flash of blue light so brilliant, so close, he knew it was Khonsu , the last outrider in his vanguard, closest to Dragon.

He adopted the protective filter of the Sentinel, aloof and untouchable, as a fearsome debate raged among the philosopher cells.

The temperament of the cells was forever malign, aggressively hateful, imbued with unrelenting anger. No gentleness in them, no sense of wonder or awareness of the magnificence of creation. They were a machine mind tasked with carrying out the genocide of technological species. Nothing more. Nothing less.

They’d captured the explosion of Khonsu in memory. Now they replayed the event, over and over, analyzing every aspect of it. Urban felt the intellectual effort as they fought to develop an explanation for the incident, and to determine what the potential threat might be.

Clemantine’s ghost joined him on the high bridge. *This shouldn’t have happened , she messaged. He felt her anger, even against the agitation of the cell field.

*It’s not over , he warned her.

*Sooth. What happens when the cell field is damaged by debris?

*We keep control , he warned her. *Regardless of what happens.