12.05.2013 Views

PeterWatts_Blindsight

PeterWatts_Blindsight

PeterWatts_Blindsight

SHOW MORE
SHOW LESS

Create successful ePaper yourself

Turn your PDF publications into a flip-book with our unique Google optimized e-Paper software.

Peter Watts 203 <strong>Blindsight</strong><br />

All you know is, you've been helping him do it.<br />

You've seen this kind of arrogance before, among your own<br />

kind. You had hoped that smarter creatures would be wiser ones.<br />

Bad enough to see such arrogant stupidity inflicted on the helpless,<br />

but to do it at these stakes beggars belief. Killing innocents is the<br />

least of the risks you're running; you're gambling with the fate of<br />

worlds, provoking conflict with a star faring technology whose sole<br />

offense was to take your picture without permission.<br />

Your dissent has changed nothing. So you rein it in; all that slips<br />

out now is the occasional pointless question with no hope of an<br />

answer, its inherent insubordination so deeply buried you don't<br />

even see it yourself. If you did see it, you'd keep your mouth shut<br />

entirely—because the last thing you want is to remind Sarasti that<br />

you think he's wrong. You don't want him dwelling on that. You<br />

don't want him to think you're up to something.<br />

Because you are. Even if you're not quite ready to admit it to<br />

yourself.<br />

Amanda Bates is beginning to contemplate a change of<br />

command.<br />

The laceration of my suit had done a real number on the gears. It<br />

took three solid days for Theseus to bring me back to life. But<br />

death was no excuse for falling behind the curve; I resurrected with<br />

a head full of updates clogging my inlays.<br />

I flipped through them, climbing down into the drum. The Gang<br />

of Four sat at the galley below me, staring at untouched portions of<br />

nutritionally-balanced sludge on her plate. Cunningham, over in<br />

his inherited domain, grunted at my appearance and turned back to<br />

work, the fingers of one hand tapping compulsively on the desktop.<br />

Theseus' orbit had widened during my absence, and most of its<br />

eccentricities had been planed away. Now we kept our target in<br />

view from a more-or-less constant range of three thousand<br />

kilometers. Our orbital period lagged Rorschach's by an hour—the<br />

alien crept implacably ahead of us along its lower trajectory—but a<br />

supplementary burn every couple of weeks would be enough to<br />

*

Hooray! Your file is uploaded and ready to be published.

Saved successfully!

Ooh no, something went wrong!