stand seems less an artifact and more a small world.”
Whether the reporter’s route exactly matched Art’s own recent, disappointing trip, the empty corridors were identically uninformative.
Keizo was nodding. “Hmm.”
“Hmm, what?”
“I’m not sure yet. Let’s watch a bit more.” Keizo stood and grabbed an empty faux pottery pitcher. “This round is on me.”
By the time Keizo returned with more beer, the visitors were nearing the site of the supposed accident. “The Foremost is walking slower than I remember. On purpose? A dramatic pause. Here it comes. I’m almost certain.”
The hatch swung open. But for a few scattered, awestruck obscenities, the crowd fell silent. Art was scarcely aware that Keizo was watching the packed room more than the 3-V.
It looked like a bomb had gone off in that hold.
Why was Keizo grinning?
“A key software subroutine failed without indication from a divide-by-zero error no one had ever tested for.”
Keizo cackled. A moment later, the entire crowd burst out laughing. The next minute of the netcast was lost to the noise, although from appearances it looked like Corinne Elman repeatedly saying, “There, there.”
“Okay, Keizo,” Art said. “How did you know he would say that?”
The sociologist waved his half-emptied stein in a sweeping gesture that took in the bar crowd. “Look at them. First the K’vithians agree to an interview. On our visit”—all subsequent official gatherings had been aboard UP ships or on Callisto—“we saw empty corridors and a conference room. Didn’t you think it strange to see seemingly inept crew being outwitted by a water hose?” As people began shushing the laughers, Keizo switched to the infosphere. “I suspect that scene was staged for Ms. Elman’s vast audience.”
“To make themselves look foolish?”
“To make themselves look unthreatening.”
Eva refilled her stein, forehead furrowed. “A starship, by definition, means incredible power.” Keizo was not cleared on Himalia, so there was no mention of the antimatter the Snakes were presumed to control—and maybe wanted more of.
Ah. “Hence,” Art said, “the advantage to appear bumbling.”
“And hence this extraordinary exhibit. Pashwah has observed us for a long time. She knows us well. She counsels Mashkith well.” Keizo glanced around the tavern. “After that display, half the people here will support most anything to help the K’vithians. The rest, at the least, consider them too bumbling to be dangerous.”
“…lost seven valued crewmates, senior scientists. A tragedy.” Mashkith was still talking about the accident.
“But you persevered. You survived. You prevailed.”
“Wait for it,” whispered Keizo. “He’s shown tremendous vulnerability—hardly the behavior we’d expect of a K’vithian, especially a Foremost. There’s a reason he did so. He wants something.”
“At what cost?” Mashkith shivered. As though observing with Keizo’s trained eye, the motion looked unnatural. Contrived. A human gesture learned for a human audience.
Corinne Elman, still perched on a recongealed lump, leaned in close. “What do you mean?”
“In this place we stored the fuel for our return flight. Had our luck been only a bit worse, we would all have died instantly. Instead, we had only a moment to act. All the fuel canisters were ejected into space before the catastrophe that could have been a million times worse.
“Without antimatter from the UP, we are stranded.”
The dream was weird, as dreams often are. There were marines in a Plexiglas castle, flying dragons, quests and relics, moats filled with magnets. Thud … thud … thud … pounded something against the raised drawbridge. A battering ram?
Only Art was awake now, the dream fading, and the noises continued. His bedside clock said 3:17. Someone was thumping on his cabin door. Vaguely he knew it had been going on for some time. Stifling a yawn, Art opened the door.
Chung stood
Whether the reporter’s route exactly matched Art’s own recent, disappointing trip, the empty corridors were identically uninformative.
Keizo was nodding. “Hmm.”
“Hmm, what?”
“I’m not sure yet. Let’s watch a bit more.” Keizo stood and grabbed an empty faux pottery pitcher. “This round is on me.”
By the time Keizo returned with more beer, the visitors were nearing the site of the supposed accident. “The Foremost is walking slower than I remember. On purpose? A dramatic pause. Here it comes. I’m almost certain.”
The hatch swung open. But for a few scattered, awestruck obscenities, the crowd fell silent. Art was scarcely aware that Keizo was watching the packed room more than the 3-V.
It looked like a bomb had gone off in that hold.
Why was Keizo grinning?
“A key software subroutine failed without indication from a divide-by-zero error no one had ever tested for.”
Keizo cackled. A moment later, the entire crowd burst out laughing. The next minute of the netcast was lost to the noise, although from appearances it looked like Corinne Elman repeatedly saying, “There, there.”
“Okay, Keizo,” Art said. “How did you know he would say that?”
The sociologist waved his half-emptied stein in a sweeping gesture that took in the bar crowd. “Look at them. First the K’vithians agree to an interview. On our visit”—all subsequent official gatherings had been aboard UP ships or on Callisto—“we saw empty corridors and a conference room. Didn’t you think it strange to see seemingly inept crew being outwitted by a water hose?” As people began shushing the laughers, Keizo switched to the infosphere. “I suspect that scene was staged for Ms. Elman’s vast audience.”
“To make themselves look foolish?”
“To make themselves look unthreatening.”
Eva refilled her stein, forehead furrowed. “A starship, by definition, means incredible power.” Keizo was not cleared on Himalia, so there was no mention of the antimatter the Snakes were presumed to control—and maybe wanted more of.
Ah. “Hence,” Art said, “the advantage to appear bumbling.”
“And hence this extraordinary exhibit. Pashwah has observed us for a long time. She knows us well. She counsels Mashkith well.” Keizo glanced around the tavern. “After that display, half the people here will support most anything to help the K’vithians. The rest, at the least, consider them too bumbling to be dangerous.”
“…lost seven valued crewmates, senior scientists. A tragedy.” Mashkith was still talking about the accident.
“But you persevered. You survived. You prevailed.”
“Wait for it,” whispered Keizo. “He’s shown tremendous vulnerability—hardly the behavior we’d expect of a K’vithian, especially a Foremost. There’s a reason he did so. He wants something.”
“At what cost?” Mashkith shivered. As though observing with Keizo’s trained eye, the motion looked unnatural. Contrived. A human gesture learned for a human audience.
Corinne Elman, still perched on a recongealed lump, leaned in close. “What do you mean?”
“In this place we stored the fuel for our return flight. Had our luck been only a bit worse, we would all have died instantly. Instead, we had only a moment to act. All the fuel canisters were ejected into space before the catastrophe that could have been a million times worse.
“Without antimatter from the UP, we are stranded.”
The dream was weird, as dreams often are. There were marines in a Plexiglas castle, flying dragons, quests and relics, moats filled with magnets. Thud … thud … thud … pounded something against the raised drawbridge. A battering ram?
Only Art was awake now, the dream fading, and the noises continued. His bedside clock said 3:17. Someone was thumping on his cabin door. Vaguely he knew it had been going on for some time. Stifling a yawn, Art opened the door.
Chung stood
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