Gregory Benford - Shipstar

This book is for John Varley, Arthur C. Clarke, Bob Shaw, Paul McAuley, Alastair Reynolds, Iain M. Banks, Robert Reed, and others of the Big Object Society. On to larger things!

We conferred on scientific and literary matters with many helpful people. Erik Max Francis, Joe Miller, and David Hartwell gave detailed comments on the manuscript. And of course Olaf Stapledon and Freeman Dyson were first.

Sunseeker crew and terms

Captain Redwing

Cliff Kammashbiologist

Mayra Wickramsinghpilot, with Beth team

Abduss Wickramsinghengineer, with Beth team

Glorythe planet of destination

SunSeekerthe ramship

Beth Marblebiologist

Erosthe first drop ship

Fred Ojamageologist, with Beth team

Aybegeneral engineer officer, with Cliff team

Howard Blairesystems engineer, with Cliff team

Terrence Gouldwith Cliff team

Irma Michaelsonplant biologist, with Cliff team

Tananareve Baileywith Beth team

Lau Pinengineer, with Beth team

Jampudvipa (shortened to Jam)an Indian petty officer

Ayaan AliArab woman navigator/pilot

Clare Conwaycopilot

Karl Lebanongeneral technology officer

Astronomer folk

MemorAttendant Astute Astronomer

BemorContriver and Intimate Emissary to the Ice Minds

AsenathChief of Wisdom

IkahajaEcosystem Savant

OmanahEcosystem Packmistress

RamanujiBiology Savant

KanamathaBiology Packmistress

ThajiJudge Savant

UnajiuhanahSenior Mistress, Keeper of the Vault Library

Other phyla

finger snakesThisther, male; Phoshtha, female; Shtirk, female

Ice Mindscold life of great antiquity

the Adoptedthose aliens already encountered and integrated into the Bowl

the Diaphanous

Folk terms

Analyticalsartificial minds that monitor Bowl data on local scales

TransLanguage

Long Records

Late Invaders

Undermind

Serf-Ones

the Buildersthe mix of species that built the Bowl

Third VarietyAstronomer variety

AstronautsAstronomer variety

Quicklands

Kahalla

Memor glimpsed the fleeing primates, a narrow view seen through the camera on one of the little mobile probes. Simian shapes cavorted and capered among the understory of the Mirror Zone, making their way towhat? Apparently, to the local express station of mag-rail. Very well. She had them now, then. Memor clashed her teeth in celebration, and tossed a squirming small creature into her mouth, crunching it with relish.

These somewhat comic Late Invaders were scrambling about, anxious. They seemed dreadfully confused, too. One would have expected more of ones who had arrived via a starship, with an interstellar ram of intriguing design. But as well, they had escaped in their scampering swift way. And, alas, the other gang of them had somehow evaded Memors attempt to kill them, when they made contact with a servant species, the Sil. So they had a certain small cleverness, true.

Enough of these irritants! She would have to concentrate and act quickly to bring them to heel. Vector to intercept, Memor ordered her pilot. Their ship surged with a thrumming roar. Memor sat back and gave a brief clacking flurry of fan-signals expressing relief.

Memor called up a situation graphic to see if anything had changed elsewhere. Apparently not. The Late Invader ramship was still maneuvering near the Bowl, keeping beneath the defensive weapons along the rim. From their electromagnetic emissions, clearly they monitored their two small groups of Late Invaders that were running about the Bowl. But their ship made no move to directly assist them. Good. They were wisely cautious. It would be interesting to take their ship apart, in good time, and see how the primates had engineered its adroit aspects.

Memor counted herself fortunate that the seeking probe had now found this one group, running through the interstices behind the mirror section. She watched vague orange blobs that seemed to be several simians and something more, as well: tentacular shapes, just barely glimpsed. These shapes must be some variety of underspecies, wiry and quick. Snakes?

The ship vibrated under her as Memor felt a summoning signalAsenath called, her irritating chime sounding in Memors mind. She had to take the call, since the Wisdom Chief was Memors superior. Never a friend, regrettably. Something about Asenath kept it that way.

Asenath was life-sized on the viewing wall, giving a brilliant display of multicolored feathers set in purple urgency and florid, rainbow rage. Memor! Have you caught the Late Invaders?

Almost. Memor kept her own feather-display submissive, though with a fringe of fluttering orange jubilance. Very nearly. I can see them now. The primate named Beth has a group, including the one Ive trained to talk. Im closing on them. They have somehow mustered some allies, but I am well armed.

Asenath made a rebuke display, slow and sardonic. This group you let escape, yes?

Well, yes, they made off while I was attending to

So they are the escaped, I take it. I cannot attend to every detail, but this was a plain failure, Attendant Astute Astronomer. They eluded you.

Memor suppressed her irritation. Asenath always used full titles to intimidate and assert superiorityusually, as now, with a fan-rattle. Only for a short while, Wisdom Chief. I had also to contend with the other escaped primates, you may recall, Your Justness.

Give up everything else and get us that primate who can talk! We need it. Dont fire on them. If they die, you die.

Memor had to control her visible reaction. No feather-display, head motionless. Wisdom Chief? What has changed?

No answer. Asenaths feather-display flickered with a reflexive blush of fear, just before she faded.

She was hiding something but what? Memor would have to learn, but not now. She glanced at the detection screen, ignoring her pilot. Beths group had disappeared into a maze of machinery. There were heat traces in several spots, leading toward the docks. Yes! Toward another escape.

There had been six of these Late Invaders when they escaped. Now the heat traces found only five, plus some slithering profiles of another species. Had one died or gone astray? These were a social species, on the diffuse hierarchy model, so it was unlikely they had simply abandoned one of their kind.

Veest Blad, she said to the pilot, make for the docks. Well intercept them there. Fast.

Tananareve Bailey looked back, face lined, sweat dripping from her nose. Nobody behind her now. She was the last, almost keeping up. Her injuries had healed moderately well and she no longer limped, but gnawing fatigue had set in. She was slowing. Her breath rasped and her throat burned and she was nearly out of water.

It had been a wearing, sweaty trip through the maze she thought of as backstage. The labyrinth that formed the back of the Bowls mirror shell was intricate and plainly never intended for anybody but workers to move through. No comforts such as passageways. Poor lighting. Twisty lanes a human could barely crawl through. This layer underpinning the Bowl was the bigger part of the whole vast structure, nearly an astronomical unit acrossbut only a few meters thick. It was all machinery, stanchions, and cables. Control of the mirrors on the surface above demanded layers of intricate wiring and mechanical buffers. Plus, the route twisted in three dimensions.

Tananareve was sweating and her arms ached. She couldnt match the jumping style of her companions in 18 percent gravity without a painful clicking in her hip and ribs. Her pace was a gliding run, sometimes bounding off an obstructing wall, sometimes taking it on her buttall assisted by her hands. It demanded a kind of slithering grace she lacked.