4

The Beehive Cluster

1. The Voice of the Collective

A.D. 80101 TO 80700

The preparations were soon made. The overgrown tree branches and twisted trunks, growing in odd spirals and curlicues and Celtic knotwork of wood overhead, filling the whole circle of the ship, were white as ice and seemed sharp and clear in the inert gas which replaced the volatile oxynitrogen atmosphere.

Montrose and Del Azarchel, also white as marble, with only their eyes still dark and gleaming with life, stood ankle deep in the snow, on legs as motionless and numb as marble, each with a white chlamys thrown over his shoulder, for modesty’s sake. They were both facing the largest pool in the garden, one from which the central statue had been removed, a figure of a pilgrim carrying a child, holding a white ball topped with a cross. Who this figure was, nor why Rania had placed it here, Montrose could not guess, and that made him very sorry. So it was with greatest respect that he had asked the statue to step aside and take another place elsewhere in the barren garden.

This pool had been selected because most of the major lines of the ship’s brainwork met here, and those that did not could be conveniently connected by bridging cables, giving this one spot the greatest carrying capacity anywhere in the ship.

Twinklewink said, “Captain Montrose, lord and husband of my mistress Rania, only your direct order, properly worded, can permit me to turn over control of the central brain systems of this ship to Praesepe, and invite the emissary within. I will be in slumber until, if ever, the emissary departs.”

Montrose hesitated.

Del Azarchel said, “As her father, surely I have some authority here?”

Twinklewink said, “Yes. Mistress Rania made it clear that you were to be treated with respect, afforded every courtesy, and under no conditions to be granted access to the central shipbrain.”

Montrose said, “This is an order. Now hear this: allow Praesepe access to the ship’s mind core, reserving only life support, navigation, propulsion, and medical subroutines.”

The pool began to change color, growing thick, stiff, and white as the nanomachinery replicated and reduplicated. First one drop of the fluid, then another, rose directly up out of the surface, suspended by some means Montrose could not discern. When he opened sense impressions on higher and lower bands of the spectrum, he saw a glare of infrared and microwave energy. He was glad he was in a Patrician body: otherwise the energy backscatter involved in whatever form of magnetic levitation was going on here would have fried him like hamburger.

The fluid of the pool formed an elongated octahedron, looking like two thin glass pyramids floating base to base, with the lower of the two balanced on its tip, hanging just above the pool surface. Little sparks of light drifted down from the object, and tiny sharp crackles of energy flashed between the lower tip and the pool. The object was taller than a giraffe, and Montrose stared at it with mingled awe and puzzlement. Was it a symbol, perhaps a stylized representation of the basic race from which the various Praesepe creatures once evolved? It did not have membranes for speaking or limbs for manipulating the environment.

Montrose brought some selected muscles of his neck out of biosuspension long enough to turn his head and glance at Del Azarchel. It was an old, automatic habit. The other man had solved the puzzle before Montrose, for Del Azarchel had thawed his lips and forehead long enough to shift his expression into a superior smirk and then refreeze it. Montrose turned his head back, shifted his vision through several other wavelengths of the spectrum and then saw what Del Azarchel saw: the turning octahedron was regularly bringing four of its triangular faces to present them to the same eight points, four of them occupied by slow-moving satellites outside the Dyson cloud, and four of them occupying points on the outer surface of the northern and southern hemispheres. This was a receiver. The octahedron had to make a complete rotation in order to consult with the eight minds or broadcast points being consulted.

A voice spoke from the middle of the octahedron. We speak for Praesepe. Speak ye for Man?

It was a human voice, slightly high pitched, melodic in pitch, and with a Texas twang to its vowels. It seemed to be a combination of halfway between Twinklewink’s girlish cartoon voice and the rich bass of Del Azarchel, and the clipped baritone of Montrose. The overall effect was eerie and unnatural: an emotionless but boyish voice that sounded like no human boy.

It spoke in the plural. The question was addressed to both of them. Naturally, they both spoke at once.

Montrose said, “I don’t speak for anyone but me and don’t take guff from anyone but me.”

But Del Azarchel said, “I represent all mankind and am its rightful sovereign lord.”

The octahedron ceased to rotate for a moment, paused, and then resumed. Why sends Man a divided epitome to us?

The two men again exchanged glances. This time each saw comprehension in the other man’s eye. Praesepe, like Ain, regarded the whole human race as one system, a single mind with a severe case of billions of split personalities.

Del Azarchel said, “We are a young and adventurous race, but our spirit of experimentation and adventure allows us to endure rebellious and nonconformist elements amid the loyal main mass.”

Montrose said, “Because Man is a divided sort of critter, half-angel and half-devil. We both wanted to talk to you.”

Del Azarchel added, “Dr. Montrose and I represent different factions, but in this case we act with one accord.”

Praesepe said, Declare ye: How is your life principle divided?

Montrose was not sure how to interpret that cryptic question, so he said, “We are individuals.”

Del Azarchel said, “Our self-aware machines can share and swap brain information, but the biological parent race on which they are based do not.”

Praesepe said, Declare ye: Is there a boundary of discontinuity between individuals severed of your life principle?

Montrose said, “Each generation is composed of newborns that we teach stuff. There is a discontinuity.”

Del Azarchel said, “Our self-aware machines can reproduce by passing memories and instructions directly into subsequent generations, but often chose not to, preferring to retain their sense of self.”

Praesepe said, This information serves us, for it clarifies varied puzzling issues. In reciprocation, we serve ye in like manner. Query of us: What requires Man of us, that his service be better perfected?

Del Azarchel said, “We have done a service for Ain that promotes the cause of sophotransmogrification and, in recompense, would like this vessel refueled with the exotic matter needed to fuel a voyage to M3, a specific amount of negative-mass helium isotope, to power our diametric drive.”

Montrose said, “We had a deal with Ain. We broadcast human souls all across the Orion Arm for you, to help you get yourself back together. To help Orion collect its scattered wits. There was a lot of death and suffering involved, and we’d like to be repaid. We’d dearly like it, as the suffering was dear.”

Praesepe said, No.

There was a moment of silence while both men stood, wondering if there would be any further answer or any explanation. Drops of fluid began to fall from the octahedron back into the water, and the snaps and sparks of electrical activity increased: the emissary was dismantling itself, preparing to depart.

The audience was over. The emissary mass was melting.

2. The Dying Dominion

A.D. 80900 TO 80944