1n1REzE

Peter Watts 295 Blindsight
Rows of glassy eyes reflected back at us down the passageway,
passing in and out of shadow.
"You killed Sarasti!"
"No."
"But—"
"Who do you think shut it down, Keeton The fucker went
rogue. I could barely even get it to self-destruct." Her eyes went
briefly deep-focus; all down the spine the surviving drones
launched into some intricate martial ballet, half-seen in the shifting
cone of her headlamp.
"Better," Bates said. "They should stay in line now. Assuming
we don't get hit with anything too much stronger."
"What is hitting us"
"Lightning. EMP." Drones sailed down to Fab and the shuttles,
taking strategic positions along the tube. "Rorschach's putting out
one hell of a charge and every time one those skimmers pass
between us they arc."
"What, at this range I thought we were—the burn—"
"Sent us in the wrong direction. We're inbound."
Three grunts floated close enough to touch. They drew beads on
the open drum hatch.
"She said she was trying to escape—" I remembered.
"She fucked up."
"Not by that much. She couldn't have." We were all rated for
manual piloting. Just in case.
"Not the Gang," Bates said.
"But—"
"I think there's someone new in there now. Bunch of
submodules wired together and woke up somehow, I don't know.
But whatever's in charge, I think it's just panicking."
Stuttering brightness on all sides. The spinal lightstrips flickered
and finally held steady, at half their usual brightness.
Theseus coughed static and spoke: "ConSensus is offline. Reac
—"
The voice faded.
ConSensus, I remembered as Bates turned to head back
upstream.