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Peter Watts 44 Blindsight
well." She spread her hands. "Probably no big deal. I'm sure
they'll still be willing to talk, if we handle the introductions right.
We just need to be a little more cautious, perhaps..."
Sarasti unfolded himself from his chair and loomed over us.
"We go in. What we know weighs against further delay."
Bates frowned and pitched her ball back into orbit. "Sir, all we
actually know is that an Oasa emitter's in our path. We don't even
know if there's anyone there."
"There is," Sarasti said. "They expect us."
Nobody spoke for a few seconds. Someone's joints cracked in
the silence.
"Er..." Szpindel began.
Without looking, Sarasti flicked out his arm and snatched Bates'
returning ball from the air. "Ladar pings Theseus four hours fortyeight
minutes ago. We respond with an identical signal. Nothing.
Probe launches half-hour before we wake up. We don't go in
blind, but we don't wait. They see us already. Longer we wait,
greater risk of countermeasures."
I looked at the dark featureless placeholder on the table: bigger
than Jupiter and we couldn't even see it yet. Something in the
shadow of that mass had just reached out with casual,
unimaginable precision and tapped us on the nose with a laser
beam.
This was not going to be an even match.
Szpindel spoke for all of us: "You knew that all along You're
telling us now"
This time Sarasti's smile was wide and toothy. It was as though
a gash had opened in the lower half of his face.
Maybe it was a predator thing. He just couldn't help playing
with his food.
It wasn't so much the way they looked. The elongate limbs, the
pale skin, the canines and the extended mandible—noticeable, yes,
even alien, but not disturbing, not frightening. Not even the eyes,
really. The eyes of dogs and cats shine in the darkness; we don't
*