“Why do you need more than one?” Elaine Doi asked.
“So the others can monitor what happens to the one that attempts to make contact, and report back if it’s lost,” Wilson said. “By now the Dyson aliens know who we are, and possibly that we didn’t put up the barrier. They certainly know we are no threat to them. How they react to us this time around will be crucial.”
“I wouldn’t like that job,” Rafael Columbia muttered.
“I’m not looking forward to it myself,” Wilson said. “But it has to be done, and done properly.”
“You got something to prove?” Thompson Burnelli asked quietly.
Wilson didn’t rise to it.
“I take it these ships are on the drawing board?” Elaine Doi asked.
“Oh, yes,” Nigel said. “As soon as we completed the Second Chance design, I authorized preliminary assessment on a possible smaller exploration starship. Adapting that to a fast scout vehicle is relatively simple. From what we learned about building the hyperdrive for Second Chance we can modify future versions for a much greater speed. That whole life-support wheel structure has been dumped, the crew can slum it in freefall. We’ve also minimized the reaction drive along with its ancillary garbage; there was no need for it apart from short-range maneuvering. But we have bumped up the armament quotient. They’ll be able to fight as well as run.”
“And what will their mission be, exactly?” Brewster Kumar asked.
“They must discover more about the nature of the Dyson aliens. If they are truly warlike. If they are developing FTL starships or opening wormholes to nearby star systems. FTL in particular would be hard to hide, given a wormhole signature is so readily detectable. Of course, if they have any knowledge in that field, that will mean they can probably spot us coming as well.”
“Very well,” Elaine Doi said. “I don’t think any of us disagree that this new mission must be undertaken, and with some urgency. What I’d like from this Council is a formal proposal to the Commonwealth Executive Office to form a new agency which will oversee the whole Dyson exploration and contact operation from planning to execution, put it all under government jurisdiction.”
“And financing,” Thompson Burnelli said gruffly.
“Are you saying you want the government to establish a civil starflight agency?” Rafael Columbia asked.
“Exactly that, yes. This is a possible threat to the entire Commonwealth. It cannot be the preserve of an ad hoc response with uncertain multisource funding. The problem needs to be addressed with stability and clear policy management.”
“Ah.” Rafael glanced at Nigel. “And how do you feel about that, Nigel? These are mostly your personnel we are talking about.”
“I think it doesn’t go far enough.” He almost smiled at how quiet the room became, even Wilson was staring at him in surprise. “You want policy for this, then it has to be long-term and coherent. If our new scouts come back with bad news, then what? Another meeting like this? No, Elaine is quite right, we need clear policy and an agency capable of implementation. We need to be preparing for the worst case before the scoutships even leave. There are other Commonwealth agencies and councils like this one that deal in security. They will have to be incorporated into this new agency as well.”
“You’re talking about the formation of a navy,” Crispin Goldreich said; he seemed taken aback by the idea. “A committed military force.”
“If you know of something else which can defend us, I’d like to hear about it.”
“I cannot believe you are proposing this. You! What does Mr. Issac say about it?”
“I expect he’ll be upset by the very notion,” Nigel said. “But as he can’t even be bothered to turn up to this meeting, he doesn’t get to have that say, does he?”
The surprise around the table was even greater than before.
“What?” an irritated Nigel asked. “We had a glorious dream when we were young. We gave humanity the stars. And now, as Elaine said, we’ve grown up because of that. If everything we’ve achieved as a race, this whole glorious civilization we’ve built, is under threat, then damn right I want to protect it. A navy will do that.”
“Yes it will,” Thompson Burnelli said carefully. “But if we go ahead and announce we’re going to create a navy, it will create a huge amount of panic and worry. Christ knows what the stock market will do, and the knock-on effect that’ll have on the economy doesn’t make pleasant speculation. You might even get inward migration from the outermost phase two planets—which is the last thing we need. The damn thing will be cyclic, it’ll feed on itself. If it’s our brief to protect the Commonwealth from any alien impact, then we have to consider that as well. This isn’t just external, Nigel.”
“I know,” Nigel said. “What we should do is copy the way Hitler prepared the ground for his Luftwaffe. After the Versailles Treaty Germany was forbidden from pursuing any form of military aviation, so he trained pilots in private clubs, and sponsored commercial aircraft which could easily be modified. Then when he wanted an air force he simply brought the two together. All the pieces were available, but no one recognized them for what they were. And today, with our industrial base spread over six hundred worlds, we can run a far more sophisticated covert manufacturing operation than the Nazis ever could. The rest of it is just another bureaucratic reshuffle, bringing together the requisite departments.”
“I can think of several people in the Senate who won’t take kindly to the Hitler comparison,” Thompson Burnelli said with dry amusement.
“Don’t use that analogy, then,” Nigel said. “The point is we can begin preparations for the physical defense of the Commonwealth without being alarmist. Getting the paperwork done is always half the battle.”
“I’m interested in your opinion of this,” Rafael Columbia told the SI. “Do you think we should have a navy?”
“While never condoning weapons development, we consider the formation of such a defense organization to be a sensible precaution given the circumstances.”
Wilson gave the screen a sharp look. “Would you assist us with weapons development?”
“We have every confidence in your own ability in that field. You have demonstrated your competence many times throughout your history.”
“Although I support a further mission to Dyson Alpha,” Brewster Kumar said. “We shouldn’t ignore the other species that appear to be out there. Will this navy or starflight agency be sending missions to try and locate the creators of the barrier?”
“We need to have a starflight agency first,” Nigel chided the science advisor gently. “But, yes, that should not be overlooked. Nor should a separate mission to Dyson Beta; I’m most interested to see if that barrier is still there. There is a lot more to this than Dyson Alpha’s species alone.”
“Very well,” Elaine Doi said. “I believe we should leave specific mission planning out of the discussion for now. We have a proposal that will eliminate it anyway. I expect this Council and its function would be absorbed into the new agency?” She gave Nigel a questioning glance.
“A starflight agency would need a steering panel,” Nigel said. “This is the obvious choice.”
“Then we’ll take a vote,” she said. “Those in favor?”
Every hand went up.
…
This time the message had the author certificate of Chiles Liddle Halgarth, but the spokesman was the same Formit 3004 politician sculpture, still sitting behind his desk in San Matio. This time the city was in springtime, with the powerful sun just rising above the whitewashed walls of the old quarter, turning the buildings a beautiful silken gold. Dark green trees planted along every street were uncurling their leaves to greet the dawn.
“My fellow citizens, I wish I could welcome you with a sense of satisfaction,” he said. “For once again we who have fought the subterranean battle to prevent the Starflyer’s agents gnawing away at the heart of our wonderful Commonwealth have been proved right. But of course I feel no joy at the situation we face this day. We failed to destroy the Second Chance , and now the starship has begun a chain reaction of events which will plunge us into war. The Dyson aliens have been let out of their prison in accordance with the Starflyer’s wishes. We have all seen the recordings of their aggression, a brutality which we all know will be turned toward us as soon as they build their own starships.
“Even if we survive the coming assault, we will be weakened terribly. Our wealth and our talent will be poured into our very survival, where it will be consumed by nuclear fire. That is when the Starflyer will strike against us, unseen, from our very midst.
“This monster will ruin us unless we guard against it. The Guardians of Selfhood will always be ready to thwart its machinations, right to the very end. We will root it out and eliminate its agents. But we need your help. Be vigilant. Be vocal. Stand for elections on a platform opposing the meager efforts which this corrupt government is proposing to protect us. We do not need three scoutships; we need an armada of battleships. We do not need further investigation; we need weapons that can blow the invaders out of space. We must be ready to defend ourselves from the Dyson aliens right now. They will appear in our skies soon enough. Don’t let us fall to their onslaught. Challenge those who claim to be working on your behalf. They are not; they serve only themselves and their evil master. Help us. Be strong. Guard yourselves.”
He bowed his head. “I thank you for your time.”
…
The red light was everywhere, oozing pervasively throughout the Ice Citadel to contaminate every room, passageway, and cranny. Ozzie detested it. The Silfen builders of old had done their job well; the big optical ducts and the light battery, whatever that was, delivered rosy sunlight throughout the frozen planet’s entire twenty-one-hour day. There was only one place that offered true sanctuary, the outside at night. But that was when it got seriously cold.
Inside, most of the private sleeping rooms had thick rugs rigged up over the radiant crystal to act as curtains. For those species that did sleep, or at least rest up at night, they were a godsend. Recently, Ozzie and Orion had taken to lighting a kerosene lamp in their room for a couple of hours before they went to bed. Their original supply of kerosene had quickly been exhausted, but one of the icewhale oils was a reasonable substitute. The yellow light also attracted quite a few fellow humans, who would come in and spend some time, either relaxing or bitching about their day. Ozzie’s room in the evening began to resemble a small bar, admittedly one without any alcohol. Inevitably, given that people had arrived at the Ice Citadel from many planets and over many centuries, the conversation ranged across a lot of different perspectives and opinions.
The gatherings also helped Ozzie gain a good understanding of the Ice Citadel and their general situation. One thing was perfectly clear, they shouldn’t try for another path until the Silfen came to hunt.
“That’s when you’ve got the best opportunity to get clear,” Sara said one day a couple of weeks after they’d arrived. She’d become a regular in Ozzie’s little evening club. Most humans at the Ice Citadel tended to look to her for guidance, a position she’d earned by the sheer quantity of time stacked up in her favor. It was a role she was content to see slide over onto Ozzie, who was equally keen to resist.
“Why?” Orion asked. “You don’t need them to get here.”
“Because it increases the odds,” she said tolerantly. “If you can follow them or, even better, stay with them, you’ll be on the path they take to get out. It’s definitely there, then. For the rest of the time, you’re just striking out into the unknown, hoping you’ll find a path that’s open. From what we know, there don’t seem to be many. And on this planet, that spells trouble. You have to carry a whole load of supplies and be quick as well.”