TSG part 10 (with links to previous parts)

In which Long Play discovers something about the pursuing Virtualists.

(Note: I’m sharing a slightly older draft of the book here on Substack for vague artistic reasons. It’s still a complete story, but the final thing will be shinier).

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Toumai’s orbed white body leaned in close to the glass. The slow knitting of the printer bugs was undisturbed.

“Hello Stephanie. Can you see me?” the robot said in LP’s voice.

Long Play knelt by the yellow-orange machine somewhere else in the Artifice, staring into a screen that showed what Toumai’s other body was seeing. She tilted her head, and the machine copied her across the open space between hollow asteroids.

Marek sat on a large red chair behind her, watching the curious astronaut prod the little rover and speak through it. She doted on it like a pet. Marek wondered if in her universe, robots fulfilled a different social niche. Despite all the scans and checks, a part of him still wondered if this stowaway was dangerous. He brushed back his black hair, sighed, and composed himself.

“How long until the Virtualists catch up?” he asked the room.

“Between five and eight hours,” Toumai replied. Marek nodded, sitting up straight and addressing the intruder.

“It’s closer to four,” LP interrupted.

“How can you be so sure?” Marek asked.

“I can’t. But I’m rarely wrong about these things.”

“Long Play. Whatever you’re doing, you should do it now.”

“Working on it,” LP said. “I’m going to need that chair.”

Marek reluctantly left the chair, standing close by as Long Play got comfortable in it. She turned it side to side with her feet, rocking herself.

“So, you don’t know where her universe is?”

“No,” said Marek.

“But it’s different. It’s not the past?”

“We are not sure.”

“Not enough data.”

“Correct.”

“Is there a signal coming in now?” LP asked.

“No.”

“She must be busy.” Long Play glanced at the little rover’s screen, now poised just past the armrest of the chair. She stared at the image of the unfinished body for almost a minute, willing for it to grow flesh and talk.

“And you can’t speed that up?”

“Not without a risk of deformities. It will be ready before the Virts arrive.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” LP said. She made a twirling movement with her finger, and the little yellow-orange rover turned its screen to show Marek.

“Show him the spikeships.”

“This is the data from the mines,” Toumai explained. He displayed a graph of points in space. The mines were an orange cloud of spheres, the spikeships a swarm of green spheres. Some were destroyed by the detonations, others nimbly swooped under and over debris.”

“I’m no fighting expert, what am I looking at?” Marek asked.

“They’re not full speed,” LP said grimly.

“What?”

“They were faster a few hours ago. They are not travelling at full speed. They aren’t in any rush to get here. Why?”

“Perhaps they know you’re here?”

“That’s not relevant. They’re from your universe, I don’t have history with them.”

“Maybe they’re holding back for orders?”

“Maybe. Someone or something has told them to slow down. What do they know? What are they planning?”

The question went unanswered. The yellow-orange rover and Marek stood still, as if waiting for LP’s answer to a rhetorical question.

“I think we’re already in firing range,” Long Play said.

The machine was silent. Marek, Toumai, and his sleeping crew had no answer to this that was worth voicing. Long Play was left alone in her dark premonition. She sniffed the cool air in the room, picking up the faint scent of nearby flowers.