Линда Нагата - Edges

“Only until we learn to defeat it,” Urban said, stepping into the light. “We will learn to beat it. It’s just a matter of time.”

“We have to learn to beat it,” Pasha said. She rose, tentatively turning to face the gathering. “Remember the scuttled starships, the choice their crews made. Our responsibility extends beyond our own survival. We cannot take this thing with us to Tanjiri.”

At this, anxious murmurs arose across the gathering, people debating with their neighbors. Kona straightened his shoulders, grateful that it was all out in the open now.

“We have options,” he said. “For now, we have time. With luck, we’ll have time to carry out studies, to undertake experiments, to find a way forward. But there are things we need to do right now to shore up our security and insure our future. First among them, we have to protect Griffin . Alkimbra is right about that. Regardless of anything else, we cannot let the entity infiltrate our second ship.” He looked down from the dais, eyeing Clemantine. “The first step I propose is to close Griffin ’s data gate. Don’t allow any direct traffic from Dragon .”

Her eyes narrowed, considering. “Do that and you’ll isolate her, that other version of me.”

“No. We’ll just add a step.” He turned to Urban. “If we can bring one of the outriders between us. Use it as a data relay.”

A tentative nod.

Back to Clemantine. “We allow only essential traffic from Dragon . Log files, vetted library updates—the Scholar can sort that out—updates for the archive, and of course, your subminds. All of it passes to the relay, where it’s inspected. If it proves clean, it gets forwarded to Griffin , but only at specific, predetermined times. Any emergency communications can be made by radio.”

Discussion stirred as people compared opinions with those sitting nearby. Snatches of conversation reached Kona:

We have options .

So long as Griffin is safe, we can continue our struggle here .

We survived worse when we left Heyertori .

Even Urban sounded conciliatory as he approached Kona on the dais, saying, “We can use Artemis as the relay.”

“Good. Let’s do that.”

Then one voice rose over the others—Pasha, calm but blunt, asking, “What if the situation should change? A sudden, catastrophic change.” The crowd murmur melted away. “The entity breaks out, let’s say. All our efforts collapse into corruption and chaos.”

Vytet responded as if this was an engineering problem. “We add an additional failsafe. If Artemis detects a radio transmission, any transmission, its data gate closes. It accepts no further traffic from Dragon , until Griffin sends an all-clear.”

But that wasn’t Pasha’s concern. Kona had wanted to use this gathering to unify the ship’s company, to get them focused on finding a means to survival, but in the face of her challenging gaze, he felt unity receding.

She said, “What I meant was that we have to know when it’s over. We cannot take this thing to Tanjiri. We have to be ready to act before it’s too late.”

Motion in the back row: Shoran standing to speak. “We’re a long way from Tanjiri. Let’s just keep trying, all right?”

“Of course we should keep trying,” Alkimbra said dismissively. “But Pasha’s concern is valid.” He waved a hand to indicate the gee deck. “At what point do we give this up? When is it over?”

“It’s over when we lose command of Dragon ,” Kona answered bluntly. He turned to Urban, who was now standing only a pace away. Met his hostile glare. “It’ll be done, then. That will be the break point. Our last chance to act.”

Urban’s gaze cut away, but returned just as quickly. “ Yes ,” he conceded—bitter and reluctant, but a welcome admission that he would have the fortitude to act. “No choice in it. We’ll destroy the ship if we can’t keep it.”

Kona waited for an expected protest from Clemantine, but it didn’t come. Her gaze was remote, seeing something invisible to the rest of them.

Aboard Griffin , Clemantine received the latest submind from her other self. As it integrated, her foremost thought became this: Halcyon days are over . It’s time for us to sync, to be one .

She savored the deep cold fury of her other self; she enjoyed it too much. That was the influence of the philosopher cells, her constant exposure to them changing who she was—even as she changed them. She didn’t like the idea of letting them inside her, but she needed that sharp edge to face them. Might need it even more, if the entity broke out. Later, in some hypothetical golden future, she would edit out the Chenzeme influence and be only herself again.

A message to her core self:

*It’s not the time to sync. We have different roles. Yours is to secure Dragon , by any means. Mine is to keep Griffin secure, on the chance you fail.

She closed the data gate as agreed and then summoned her crew of Apparatchiks. They appeared before her in Griffin ’s library, contained within their frameless windows, all six eyeing her with somber expressions. They looked so much like Urban, though less careworn.

“You’ve received the latest logs,” she said. “You know how it is. The break point will come when Urban loses control of Dragon .”

Of the two ships, Dragon was far more powerful. If it fell under control of the entity, Griffin could neither out-run nor out-fight it.

The Engineer said, “In such a situation, our only viable means of survival is to strike Dragon and destroy it before it can turn and destroy us.”

“Yes, exactly,” Clemantine said, even as her focus shifted inward, a stab of grief for the home she’d made on the gee deck—but in that home, a reminder of the inherent promise of renewal in a blossoming iris.

She said, “We must be ready, and we must take no unnecessary risks.” She looked to the Engineer. “The reef is weak, but I need to draw from it for a course adjustment.”

“While reserving power for the gun?” he asked.

“Always.”

“I’ll monitor it.”

Next she turned to the Pilot. “Plot a position. We’re going to fall back. Achieve a twenty thousand kilometer separation.”

“Understood,” he replied sullenly.

“There’s no need to be… overt in our position. We all know the direction this is going, but for morale we can pretend otherwise. I don’t want Dragon directly in our line of fire, but give me a position that will let me put Dragon in our gunsight within thirty seconds.”

Days passed. The containment capsule remained unchanged. It grew no new tendrils. It did not expand. But it maintained a temperature far warmer than the bio-mechanical tissue surrounding it. The heat of internal processes underway.

Riffan followed the situation closely. He could not forget the way he’d conducted himself at the Rock, how he’d let fear blunt good judgment. He’d wasted an opportunity. If he’d done a better job, if he’d responded more intelligently to the entity’s overtures, this whole awkward infestation might have been avoided.

He needed to let go of his provincial attitude and get used to the idea that he was… well, disposable . Any single version of himself anyway. There might be unpleasantness in a demise, but so long as there was another copy, a backup version stashed somewhere, then someone who was him would go on. That’s how Urban looked at things and Riffan could appreciate the logic of it. It was a philosophy that encouraged risk and bold choices in dangerous situations.