"So, Youn Suu," Cohen said. "Do you know what the red stuff is?"

I hesitated. Crimson particles. Able to move so they couldn’t be grabbed. Forming into thick patches. Like moss…

The streets were now coated except for tiny clear patches around each Cashling’s feet; and the blizzard was still falling. Getting thicker. The camera barely penetrated the cloud of red, but I could make out the wall of a building… and moss climbing that wall as fast as a human could walk… climbing the ropes too, spreading across the whole knotted network until every rope looked like cord covered with plush crimson velvet…

Red moss. That could move. That could see the Cashlings and get out of their way.

A chill went through me. I said, "It’s the Balrog."

"Balrog?" echoed Ambassador Li. "What’s a Balrog?"

"A highly advanced creature," I said. "Much more intelligent than humans."

I looked at the picture again. The moss had begun to glow: shining dimly as the city grew darker. Mats of fuzzy red clotted on Zoonau’s glass dome, cutting off sunlight from outside. Streetlamps flickered to life, but their bulbs were already covered with crimson fuzz. "The moss goes by many names," I continued, trying to keep my voice even, "but when interacting with Homo sapiens, it calls itself the Balrog. The name refers to a fictional monster from Earth folklore, originally appearing in J. R. R. Tolkien’s-"

Li made a strangled sound and kneaded his temples as if I’d aggravated his hangover headache. Neither he nor Ubatu was seated — Pistachio’s small bridge had no guest chairs, and safety regulations forbade visitors from sitting at an active control station unless they were qualified to operate the station’s equipment — so Li just tottered shakily from one foot to the other until he overcame whatever spasm had gripped him. "Explorer," he said in a forced voice, "we don’t want your thoughts on literature. Stick to what’s relevant."

"This is relevant," I replied. "When an intelligent alien adopts a name from human mythology, it’s making a statement. If you met an extraterrestrial that introduced itself as Count Dracula, would you let it near your throat?"

"He would if it offered him trade concessions," Ubatu said.

"Now, now," murmured Captain Cohen, "no garbage talk on my bridge." He turned back to me. "Go on, Youn Suu. Tell us about Balrogs."

"It’s not Balrogs plural." I gestured toward the screen as Zoonau continued to disappear under a blanket of red. "That’s all one creature: the Balrog. It’s a single consciousness, distributed over quadrillions of component units usually called spores. And the spores have been found on hundreds of worlds throughout the galaxy."

"So it’s a hive mind?" Li muttered. "I hate those things."

"Yes, Ambassador," I said, "it’s a hive mind. The spores stay in constant telepathic contact with each other, regardless of how far apart they are. Instantaneous contact, even when separated by thousands of light-years. The Balrog is like a single brain with lobes in different star systems, but still intellectually integrated. Some experts believe hive minds are the next evolutionary step above individual creatures like ourselves. We’ve certainly encountered lots of hive minds in our galaxy: not just the Balrog, but the Lucifer, the Myshilandra, possibly Las Fuentes-"

"Hold it," Li interrupted. He was massaging his temples again. "Let’s get something clear. How smart is this Balrog?"

"Smarter than Homo sapiens and our usual alien trading partners," I said. "How much smarter, nobody knows. The Balrog is so far beyond humans, when we try to measure its intelligence, we’re like two-year-olds trying to rank the IQs of Newton and Einstein."

Li curled his lip in disgust. "How typical. Explorers love saying that humans are idiots. You enjoy thinking you’re at the bottom of the heap. That’s where you’re comfortable."

"Now, now," Captain Cohen murmured.

"No, really," Li said. "What makes her think this Balrog is smart? Better technology?" The ambassador waved his hand dismissively. "Better technology isn’t a matter of intelligence; it’s just how long you’ve been in the game. We have better machines today than the ancient Chou Dynasty, but we’re not a milligram smarter."

"Oh God," Ubatu groaned. "He’s going to quote Confucius again."

"Ambassador Li," I said (all the while watching the city of Zoonau being buried alive), "you don’t grasp the nature of superior intelligence. Suppose you create a brand-new intelligence test. Give it to average humans, and they’d finish in, say, an hour, probably with a number of mistakes. Give it to the most intelligent people in the Technocracy, and they might finish in half the time, with almost no mistakes. But if you approach the Balrog with your test in hand, it’ll say, ‘What took you so long? I’ve been waiting for you to show up since last Saturday. I got so bored, I’ve already finished.’ Then it will hand you a mistake-free copy of the test you just invented. The Balrog can foresee, hours or days or months in advance, exactly what questions a person like you would invent. It doesn’t read your mind, it knows your mind. That’s superior intelligence."

Li snorted in disbelief. I wondered why. Because he couldn’t imagine a universe where he wasn’t on the top rung? "Look," I said, "when we classify the Balrog as ‘beyond human intelligence,’ we don’t mean it’s faster or more accurate in mundane mental tasks. We mean it can do things humans can’t. In particular, the Balrog displays an uncanny ability to intuit Homo sapiens thoughts and actions. Not just vague predictions but precise details of what we’re going to do far into the future."

Li looked like he was going to interrupt. I went on before he could. "You may be thinking of quantum uncertainty and chaos theory: principles of human science that imply the future is inherently unpredictable. You’re right, that’s what human science says — which only proves the point. Humans are so stupid and self-centered, we think everything else in the universe has to be as limited as we are. But we’re wrong. The Balrog has demonstrated repeatedly it can predict the actions of lesser creatures like us. If you don’t believe that’s possible… then you’re a typical human, regarding yourself as the standard by which everything else should be measured."

"And what about you?" Li sneered. "Aren’t you also hampered by human limitations? I suppose the less human you look-"

"Now, now," Cohen interrupted, waggling a scrawny finger at the ambassador. "Now, now."

"Explorers are just as limited as other humans," I said. "The difference is we recognize our limitations. Otherwise…" I took a breath to catch my temper. "Do you know how we first learned about the Balrog? I’ll tell you. An Explorer took a single wrong step."

Ubatu looked up. "That sounds interesting. I don’t know this part." As if she already possessed extensive familiarity with superior alien intelligence, so hadn’t bothered to listen. Now, however, her nostrils flared as if she’d caught the smell of blood. I wondered if, like many of the most privileged in the pleasure palace, Ubatu had a ghoulish streak. Fascinated by tales of other people’s suffering. She said, "I assume you have an amusing story to tell?"

"Not amusing but important," I said. "If you’re ready to listen."

Li had gone back to rubbing his temples. He didn’t speak — didn’t even glance in my direction. I decided this was as attentive as he’d allow himself to be… so I began to tell the tale.

"You can see what the Balrog looks like." I nodded toward the vidscreen. The streets and buildings of Zoonau were completely lost under crimson fuzz. Cashlings, still untouched, either stood afraid to move or wandered in a daze. The Balrog slipped silently out from under the feet of the wanderers, then slid back after they’d passed, obliterating their footprints with spores of glowing red. The glow was brighter now, like the embers of a fire just before it’s fanned into a blaze.