All right, it seems like what we need here is someone capable of keeping the story straight. Why don’t I just hand over the notes of my observations? Since I was uncertain whether to go by GalStandard time, Skarsian Mean Time or Dolparessan Local Time, I decided to reference it in terms of our own current situation – plus or minus days of a Dolparessan length.
-37 days: The meeting concerning anti-CenGov strategy. Cuinn reveals that if Panic is able to drop her singularities in a particular array in +17 days, it will weaken the fabric of spacetime enough to tear a gigantic gash running from Dolparessa through Eden and out to Volparnu. This would create a huge energy source, but probably destroy civilization in the Domha’vei. It is unknown what effect the uncontrolled influx of nul-energy would have on this universe’s sentient species, but the pudge would be catastrophic wherever the tear cut through an inhabited area.
“Pudge?” asked Phhhhhhhhhhhhhnnnv.
You guys don’t know about pudge? I’m surprised.
Stuff in the nul-universe doesn’t have gravity, says Cuinn. It has pudge. It got named by Skarsian explorers who almost crashed into Dolparessa – it’s funny Sider didn’t notice it, but then again, he kind of missed that Dolparessa has trees, which should’ve been obvious to anyone surveying Sideria. Anyway, a moon the size of Dolparessa shouldn’t have much gravity at all. So they weren’t expecting the pseudo-gravitic effects of pudge, and because it functions under an inverse cube law instead of an inverse square law, it came up on them real quick. It’s really meant to be Pd-G, pseudogravity, but since the effect fell off so fast, they said that it wasn’t really weighty, like gravity, just sort of pudgy. That’s why Dolparessa can retain an atmosphere capable of supporting life. We owe it all to pudge. Nobody understood pudge until the rip was discovered. Clive said that’s how CenGov knew to look for it. There had to be something causing the pudge.
“I admit to knowing nothing about trans-universal physics. I am a humble merchant. It does, however, seem that after over a thousand years of inhabiting this star system, the humans here, who appear to have a moderate technological sophistication, would’ve understood the phenomenon long before this century.”
I clear my throat. One day into my timeline, and we’re digressing already. The last thing I need is for the fish to give Cuinn an opportunity to talk nonsense shop.
Oh, lots of people investigated it, Cuinn replied. Tried to, anyway. Weird things happened to them. Tragic equipment failures. Mysterious disappearances. SSOps was much nastier under the 5th Matriarch. Now, pretty much all they do is guard Tara and supervise drug trafficking. Not that it isn’t a lot of work, I mean, making sure that nobody undercuts RR-2’s profits and the proper concentrations and purity and all the laws that aren’t really laws because technically, it’s illegal. And not cutting each other’s throats, too. It’s become much safer to deal drugs ever since Tara became Matriarch.
I know exactly what SSOps does, Cuinn. I happen to be their director. This is going off-kilter again, and I’d like to return to the timeline.
“Wait, why is the Matriarch selling contraband? Laws that are illegal? If she’s an autocrat, why not just make it legal?” asked Phhhhhhhhhhhhhnnnv.
Would you like a history of the politics of the narcotics trade, says Cillian, or do you want to hear the fucking story?
We could start with the Opium Wars, says Chase. I glare at him.
-36 days: In order for Roger’s prediction to be correct, one of the CenGov ships would already have had to leave the armada and began moving towards the inner worlds. Such a ship was discovered on exactly the correct course. It was a tiny vessel, but the energy output was enormous, such as would be expected if it needed a containment field for a micro-singularity.
-34 days: A second ship breaks off from the armada and moves on a course towards Dalgherdia.
-33 days: Tara opens communication with the Floatfish stranded on Skarsia. She broaches the topic of allowing them to serve as intermediaries for a negotiation between CenGov and the Matriarchy. The Floatfish send emissaries to Dolparessa.
“We really prefer to be called the Brrrrrrrrrrrrvvbh,” says Phhhhhhhhhhhhhnnnv, twitching his tail fins in annoyance.
We find it difficult to say, let alone spell.
“You mispronounce it anyway. Your mouths can’t produce the inflected gurgle between the v’s. You should just get a vocal synthesizer. Do you think that I can naturally pronounce interdental consonants with pharyngeal teeth?”
-32 days: Tara opens communications with Governor Tellick, suggesting the idea of a Floatfish negotiator. Tellick is receptive, but warns that General Panic will never accept anything less than complete surrender. Tara reminds Tellick that he outranks Panic, and suggests that he grow some balls.
Isn’t Tellick already a male? asks Cuinn.
-31 days: There is time to kill. Driscoll does a portrait of Constantine, carved in wood. He intends to make a statement “similar to the structural taxidermy school of the 23rd Century.”
-30 days: Time to kill. Tara gets drunk and fucks Constantine.
-29 days: Cu’enmerengi protestors storm the Clover Apollinaire, demanding that the portrait of Constantine be removed. Driscoll threatens to burn it. The crowd showers the steps of the gallery – and Driscoll – with eggs.
-28 days: The Cantor visits. She reams Driscoll out. Driscoll accuses her of failing to understand art. He then reveals that the spectacle was intended to give General Panic a false sense of security while keeping the media occupied with minutiae.
-27 days: Three more ships break off from the armada, projected courses at varying points between Volparnu and the asteroid belt.
-26 Days: Driscoll makes a portrait of Owen in tooled leather and hangs it next to the portrait of Constantine. He names the series “What Prometheus Gave,” and distributes the following screed:
Fire. Fire cooks meat, tans leather, consumes wood. Fire destroys both animal and plant without prejudice. For every advancement, there is a corresponding sacrifice, a risk of destruction. The adventurer, the artist, the scientist, it is all the same. To touch fire means to be martyred. Hung on a cross, liver torn from torso, face pelted with egg. Pain and humiliation are one.
But there is always a trick. What is beneath the skin, beneath the leather offered to the gods? The gnawed bones of vengeance? Splinters of memory lost? To evolve, one must seize fire with both hands. Ash has no fear of fire.
-25 Days: Archbishop Venesti declares Driscoll’s screed to be Holy Writ. Archonist temples everywhere proclaim Ash has no fear of fire on their holographic signage.
-24 days: The Floatfish delegation arrives. Much time is wasted in subterfuge, since neither party actually intends to conduct negotiations with CenGov. A grand reception is given in the water-gardens utilizing tables which hover above the ponds. Chef Yuric succeeds in making a plankton mousse palatable.
-23 days: I and I travels to Dalgherdia by riding the power grid, and then flies to Eden. At the same time, a message pre-recorded on Dolparessa is released. In it, Constantine addresses the faithful of the Church of the Holy Martyred Ross. He directs them to undertake the performance of public austerities until such time as he is able to take revenge on General Panic for the atrocities committed against his brother.
-22 Days: Vesta Vero, famed art critic, publishes an article analyzing “What Prometheus Gave” in light of the hagiography of its two subjects. Ari and a group of K’ntasari depart Eden in a force bubble, making them virtually undetectable, on a trajectory to intercept the first CenGov ship.
-21 days: As a result of Vesta Vero’s advocacy, “What Prometheus Gave” is nominated for the Duchamp Prize in artistic innovation.
-20 days: Ari and his warriors take the CenGov ship, releasing the singularity half-a-day early. Constantine emanates, falsifying the ship’s logs. Meanwhile, the Duchamp Prize judges can’t get past the CenGov blockade to view Driscoll’s exhibition in person. The IndWorld media goes berserk, scathingly criticizing Earth’s abandonment of the arts.
Mickey, says Evan, there’s so much included in that timeline, but no sense of meaning at all. So the dramatic action of the battle preparations fall completely flat, and we get no sense of the wider implications of the political, cultural and religious incidents.
Also, says Tommy, on day -30, you missed an enormous opportunity for a great sex scene.
“Skip the reproductive details,” says Phhhhhhhhhhhhhnnnv. “I’d be bored off my gills.”
Tommy shoots Thomas a significant glance. Is there any point in even talking to these people? he murmurs.
All right, I concede. I suppose I can insert an accurate description of the takeover for the sake of a more exciting narrative.
Ari had hand-picked four K’ntasari warriors: Othello, Macbeth, Portia and Larry. Larry was the youngest, the last of the group to emerge from his tree, and Manasseh, not Ari, had named him. Can you tell?
As I said, a force-bubble is almost impossible to detect at long range. It preserved the atmosphere, and I and I could tow it along with him – well, push it in front of him would be a more accurate description. Being nothing but nul-energy, he slipped right through the walls of the CenGov ship undetected. It wouldn’t be standard procedure to configure a ship to detect nul-energy, and I and I was careful to avoid their visual scanners.
From that point on, it was easy to emanate as Ari and open the airlock, allowing the K’ntasari team inside. Of course, the bridge would have been notified of the breach in the hatch immediately – that is, if I and I hadn’t turned part of the alarm circuit into redberri gelatin.
Honey is easier than gelatin, inserts Cuinn, but honey oozes and gets into things, and would eventually set off other alarms. I don’t know why I and I picked redberri. Redberris are delicious, but taboo, since they’re seeded. Maybe He wanted to make a statement, like Driscoll’s wood carving. Also, Mickey has a shirt with a redberri pattern. It’s really loud.
That’s completely irrelevant, I say, getting a little annoyed.
Phhhhhhhhhhhhhnnnv did say to include everything.
I wish that the K’ntasari weren’t so stuck on Ari, I continue. No offense, but this was a delicate operation, the kind that either Valentin or myself excel at. Ari is strong, but not exactly subtle. It’s hard to be subtle when you’re slightly over two meters tall. Macbeth was almost as tall as Ari, but leaner. He excelled in martial arts, which he had studied briefly on Dolparessa.
One advantage that the Nau’gsh species have over humans is that our perfect memories make learning extremely rapid, Cuinn explains. We don’t require practice to strengthen the neural connections. It’s better even than being chipped, like Earthers. New information can be accessed much more rapidly with chipping, but the user won’t retain it. Also, chipping doesn’t work nearly as well for physical acts, like fighting or playing the violin, since that requires coordination between brain and body. Not that anyone from Earth still plays the violin.
Don’t be unfair, says Evan. They do still have music on Earth.
But it’s strictly utilitarian, says Dermot. Music relieves stress, thus improving health, and can also serve as a cardiovascular pacing mechanism, increasing efficiency in most tasks. It can also be an effective propaganda tool, delivering a message through the power of a repetitive hook. The music that predominates on Earth is created by teams of experts who devise it to most effectively suit its function. It’s electronically generated, so they don’t have to waste human capitol on trained musicians. In short, it doesn’t resemble anything approaching art.
My point, I say firmly, is that the K’ntasari had a decided advantage over the Earthers, and that Macbeth was skilled in hand-to-hand combat. In fact, I did a little of his training myself.
Which means he’s not as good as you, says Cillian.
No one is as good as me. In the twenty years since I first emanated, I’ve had a chance to absorb all of the ancient martial arts texts preserved in the Matriarch’s library – over 20,000 artifacts ranging from 3rd Century Chinese scrolls to 35th Century holographs.
But Tara still beats you every time you spar with her, says Tommy.
Of course she does. I want to get laid.
Oh, says Tommy. That makes perfect sense. Sorry I ever doubted you.
Uh, guys, Hurley motions frantically. I think that the SongLuminants are starting to think we’re crazy. They’re questioning whether we’re capable of any sort of consensus.
I can assure you, this is perfectly normal for a Cu’enashti, says Tarlach. While it superficially resembles some kind of multiple personality or dissociative disorder in humans, the difference is that we all have a unified sense of purpose. Even when we aren’t aware of it, he continues, looking at Dermot, we’re still under the control of the essential self. The lack of awareness is similar to human actions performed under the influence of the unconscious mind.
They didn’t like that answer, says Hurley. The glass got all cloudy.
It’s not at all like the unconscious mind, says Dermot. The human unconscious is a muddle of repressed drives and unsorted data. I and I is a superconscious mind, paralleling more closely the phenomenon of human artistic inspiration.
Good answer, says Hurley.
The proof of that is that Davy’s creations always fit seamlessly with the ecosystem, adds Malachi.
Oh wow, says Hurley. The glass is starting to shine a little, lit from within.
“Obviously,” says Phhhhhhhhhhhhhnnnv, “they will find anything that demonstrates that you actually know what you’re doing to be reassuring.”
I know exactly what I’m doing, but I can’t seem to get a word in edgewise.
Yes, let him speak, says Ailann. This is his testimony.
All right, where was I? They easily entered the ship. Othello was an expert marksman, and Portia remarkably strong. She was a big tree, and had stored a lot of nul-energy, making her “sting” especially dangerous. Larry was a scrapper, not too elegant, but hard to take down.
“There are only a dozen crew members,” said Ari. “The only hard part will be incapacitating them without alerting CenGov.”
“Leave it to me,” said Othello. “I have blowdarts.”
Ari nodded affirmatively. “Just watch them for a bit. Monitor their communication cycles. It wouldn’t do for them to miss a routine call into their fleet. Macbeth, Portia, go with him. Larry, you’re with me. We have to find the release mechanism for the singularity.”
Now this is just my personal opinion, but I would’ve had a plan before I went in there. I would’ve known, for example, just how many blowdarts Othello had, and the kind of toxin used on them. In fact, I would’ve asked Tara her expert opinion on the toxin.
I was pretty confident that once we understood the situation, we’d figure something out, says Ari. It’s pointless to plan anything because things are never as expected. Flexibility is key.
That’s why I try to anticipate all the contingencies.
Overthinking, says Ari. My instincts are good. For example, all that time you spent undercover on the science station, gathering data, watching over Tara while Edom St. John moved in on her. Now I would’ve…
Thrown her over your shoulder? I don’t think that would’ve gone over well, at the time. It was a completely different situation.
Ari, you only got away with that because of all the groundwork we laid, says Ailann. Before the Great Reveal, everything was so much harder.
What an ego, Cillian muttered. The guy thinks that just because he’s got the biggest equipment…
I’m going to get on with the story. That was when the two parties split. “I don’t understand,” said Larry. “I mean, obviously, in your wisdom, you know far more than I, but I thought we were trying to stop them from releasing the black hole?”
“According to Cuinn’s calculations, if we do this correctly, by releasing it between 9-15 hours early, we’ll be in a region where the fabric of spacetime is almost normal. It won’t cause any further tearing, in other words. It’s also a position too far from anything significant to cause damage from gravitational pull. Understand, these things are tiny. Left on their own, they are unstable. So it will just fizzle out, with no one the wiser.”
“Why didn’t the Archon just use his power to stop the ships?” asks Phhhhhhhhhhhhhnnnv.
Oh, I could have easily done that, says Ailann. Panic’s trick was in trying to slip those ships by us. We were hoping she didn’t realize that we would second-guess her. We were using that to our advantage to hijack one of her ships with the ultimate goal of breaking the stalemate.
I give up. Jack’s in the driver’s seat. Let him talk.
Whirljack has pretty much decided to boycott these talks, says Evan. But he has written two verses of “Ode to the Erased.”
Phhhhhhhhhhhhhnnnv flicked his in exaggerated indignation. “You don’t boycott the SongLuminants. Do you understand that the fate of your species rests on their judgment?”
Actually, says Hurley, I get the impression that the SongLuminants are pretty amused.