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Peter Watts 98 Blindsight
"Rorschach to Theseus. Hello, Theseus. You there"
A holographic inset beside the main display plotted the points of
a triangle in flux: Theseus at the apex, Rorschach and Jack
defining the narrow base.
"Rorschach to Theseus. I seeee you...."
"She's got a more casual affect than he ever did." Sascha
glanced up at Sarasti, and did not add You sure about this She
was starting to wonder herself, though. Starting to dwell on the
potential consequences of being wrong, now that we were
committed. As far as sober second thought was concerned it was
too little too late; but for Sascha, that was progress.
Besides, it had been Sarasti's decision.
Great hoops were resolving in Rorschach's magnetosphere.
Invisible to human eyes, their outlines were vanishingly faint even
on Tactical; the chaff had scattered so thinly across the sky that
even the Captain was resorting to guesswork. The new
macrostructures hovered in the magnetosphere like the nested
gimbals of some great phantom gyroscope.
"I see you haven't changed your vector," Rorschach remarked.
"We really wouldn't advise continuing your approach. Seriously.
For your own safety."
Szpindel shook his head. "Hey, Mandy. Rorschach talking to
Jack at all"
"If it is, I'm not seeing it. No incident light, no directed EM of
any kind." She smiled grimly. "Seems to have snuck in under the
radar. And don't call me Mandy."
Theseus groaned, twisting. I staggered in the low pseudograv,
reached out to steady myself. "Course correction," Bates reported.
"Unplotted rock."
"Rorschach to Theseus. Please respond. Your current heading is
unacceptable, repeat, your current heading is unacceptable.
Strongly advise you change course."
By now the probe coasted just a few kilometers off Rorschach's
leading edge. That close it served up way more than magnetic
fields: it presented Rorschach itself in bright, tactical color codes.
Invisible curves and spikes iridesced in ConSensus across any
number of on-demand pigment schemes: gravity, reflectivity,