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PeterWatts_Blindsight

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Peter Watts 177 <strong>Blindsight</strong><br />

It was hers too, for that matter. Nobody who spliced brains for a<br />

living could possibly be unaware of all that basic wiring in the subbasement.<br />

Chelsea had simply chosen to ignore it; to have<br />

admitted anything would have compromised her righteous anger.<br />

I could have pointed that out too, I suppose, but I knew how<br />

much stress the system could take and I wasn't ready to test it to<br />

destruction. I didn't want to lose her. I didn't want to lose that<br />

feeling of safety, that sense that it made a difference whether I<br />

lived or died. I only wanted her to back off a bit. I only wanted<br />

room to breathe.<br />

"You can be such a reptile sometimes," she said.<br />

Mission accomplished.<br />

Our first approach had been all caution and safety margins. This<br />

time we came in like a strike force.<br />

Scylla burned towards Rorschach at over two gees, its trajectory<br />

a smooth and predictable arc ending at the ruptured base camp. It<br />

may have even landed there, for all I know; perhaps Sarasti had<br />

two-birded the mission, programmed the shuttle for some<br />

collecting of its own. If so, it wouldn't land with us on board.<br />

Scylla spat us into space almost fifty kilometers short of the new<br />

beachhead, left us naked and plummeting on some wireframe<br />

contraption with barely enough reaction mass for a soft landing and<br />

a quick getaway. We didn't even have control over that: success<br />

depended on unpredictability, and how better to ensure that than to<br />

not even know ourselves what we were doing?<br />

Sarasti's logic. Vampire logic. We could follow it partway: the<br />

colossal deformation that had sealed Rorschach's breach was so<br />

much slower, so much more expensive than the dropgate that had<br />

trapped the Gang. The fact that dropgates hadn't been used<br />

implied that they took time to deploy—to redistribute necessary<br />

mass, perhaps, or spring-load its reflexes. That gave us a window.<br />

We could still venture into the den so long as the lions couldn't<br />

predict our destination and set traps in advance. So long as we got<br />

out again before they could set them afterwards.<br />

*

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