solar systems. Eight hundred stars, each with their planets, their millions of stations, their trillions of ships and uncountable intelligences—
“No,” she says.
“No what?” asks Observer pleasantly. “No, you don’t like what you’ve made? No, because your dream turned out different than you imagined? Daughter, here’s a bit of wisdom for you: just because a dream involves a bit of death and chaos, that doesn’t make it any less beautiful.”
But Sarya has spent a long walk in a dark forest thinking about this very thing. This is not just death and chaos, this is the beginning of something far worse. Those hundreds of star systems might be slowly regathered into Network’s fold, sometime in the next millennium. The Network could heal, because they would want it. They would send sub-lightspeed envoys to the Network, spending centuries just to ask the Network to come back, to send a new construction fleet for a new corridor, maybe not to reconnect this generation but the one five or six or ten centuries hence. These systems are made of Citizen members, after all. They are made of species who legitimately hatched from their various solar system–sized eggs, people who crave order and peace—
Except for one. One species, who could keep the entire sector off the Network. Who could have access to a Blackstar. Who could create a war machine to spread itself across Network like a disease—
“Ship,” Sarya says, and her voice is almost steady.
“Awaiting order.”
Observer watches her curiously, all His heads tilted to the same angle.
“Do you see a cylindrical object near us?” she says. She has only Observer’s vague description to go on, and she can only hope this ship can interpret it. “It’s spinning, like a habitat, and has faster-than-light capabilities.”
“Searching…this ship has found one object that meets that description.”
Observer rolls several sets of eyes. “Did I not just go over this?” He says. “Do you think there aren’t more of Me up there? You can go there—I’ll take you there Myself. Even now, I’m willing to insert you into that society, at any level you want. You’ll be a legend. You can have a mate—more than one, if you want. Family, children, the whole shebang. But stealing the whole thing? Right underneath My many noses?” Observer smiles with every mouth she can see. “I’m afraid not.”
“Ship,” says Sarya, still meeting Observer’s gaze. “Target that object. On my command—” And then her voice breaks. “On my command…destroy it.”
And then for the second time, Observer does something that gives Sarya the tiniest flutter in her heart.
He blinks.
“This ship has a variety of options for destruction,” says the ship. “Would you like to use—”
“Use your best judgment,” she says, her eyes still on Observer’s. “Total destruction.”
“Understood. Please confirm when ready.”
There are a few seconds of silence. One of the Observers coughs. Another one gives her a gentle, understanding look. “You spent your life dreaming of the moment when you would be reunited with your people,” it says. “Now, when the opportunity is right in front of you, I’m supposed to believe that you’re going to…destroy them?”
Hearing it is worse than thinking it, and thinking it was the worst thing she’s ever done. “Yes,” says Sarya softly.
Observer laughs again, this time more confidently. “Oh, little one,” He says. “You’re not fooling anyone. I know you, Daughter. In a manner of speaking, I created you.”
“Then—” Sarya says, then swallows, hating her body for its weakness. “Then You should know that I’m serious,” she says.
“I know that you’re not. I’m not some ethereal being, like Network; I’m flesh and blood, like you! Your drives and motivations are not strange to Me. They are not abstract puzzles to be theorized about. I share them! You are my daughter, in more ways than one. I, personally, am the reason your species came out of the trees! I taught you agriculture, I taught you warfare, I gave you technology. I knew your parents—your real parents—and their parents, and their parents, up and up and up for thousands of generations. I know, better than anyone, how Humans think—and you in particular. I know that this is not what you want.”
“No,” whispers Sarya. “It’s not.”
Observer stares at her from every one of His bodies.
Sarya can feel her own body trembling; from the corners of her eyes, she can see the holograms around her good hand try to track its spastic movement. She is at the end. She hasn’t thought at all for the last few minutes, she has just