PeterWatts_Blindsight

Peter Watts 99 Blindsight
blackbody emissions. Massive electrical bolts erupting from the
tips of thorns rendered in lemon pastels. User-friendly graphics
had turned Rorschach into a cartoon.
"Rorschach to Theseus. Please respond."
Theseus growled to stern, fishtailing. On tactical, another justplotted
piece of debris swept by a discreet six thousand meters to
port.
"Rorschach to Theseus. If you are unable to respond, please—
holy shit!"
The cartoon flickered and died.
I'd seen what had happened in that last instant, though: Jack
passing near one of those great phantom hoops; a tongue of energy
flicking out, quick as a frog's; a dead feed.
"I see what you're up to now, you cocksuckers. Do you think
we're fucking blind down here?"
Sascha clenched her teeth. "We—"
"No," Sarasti said.
"But it fi—"
Sarasti hissed, from somewhere in the back of his throat. I had
never heard a mammal make a noise quite like that before. Sascha
fell immediately silent.
Bates negotiated with her controls. "I've still got—just a sec—"
"You pull that thing back right fucking now, you hear us? Right
fucking now."
"Got it." Bates gritted as the feed came back up. "Just had to
reacquire the laser." The probe had been kicked wildly off-course
—as if someone fording a river had been caught in sudden
undertow and thrown over a waterfall—but it was still talking, and
still mobile.
Barely. Bates struggled to stay the course. Jack staggered and
wobbled uncontrollably though the tightly-wound folds of
Rorschach's magnetosphere. The artefact loomed huge in its eye.
The feed strobed.
"Maintain approach," Sarasti said calmly.
"Love to," Bates gritted. "Trying."
Theseus skidded again, corkscrewing. I could have sworn I
heard the bearings in the drum grind for a moment. Another rock