Resurgence

“I asked him to do four things. First, to take the known digit sequences of every known Bose node, and derive from them as many characteristic string properties and statistics as he could. Second, to sort out from the data banks of the Polypheme ship every discrete and identifiable forty-two-digit sequence—I knew there would be trillions of them. Third, to test every one of those sequences to see if they possessed the statistical properties derived from known Bose node sequences. And finally, to provide a ranked list of matches in order of their goodness of fit, together with some numerical measure of confidence in the result.”

Teri muttered, almost to herself, “An absolutely monstrous job.”

“Agreed. It is monstrous, even Steven admitted that it would be quite beyond him. But it’s meat and drink to an embodied computer like Tally. He ate it up. I had no idea how long it might take him, days or weeks or months. But he was finished in a few hours. Do you want to see the results?”

The councilor did not wait for an answer. A long table of figures appeared on the wall display behind him. While Torran and Teri studied it, he went on, “As you can see, we have no certainties, no hundred percent fit.”

“But isn’t that wrong?” Torran Veck was scowling at the screen. “If the number one choice really does represent a Bose node, shouldn’t it be on the list?”

“I don’t think so. The Chism Polypheme didn’t want his private navigation secrets revealed to anybody who tapped his ship’s data banks. He deliberately excluded the Bose coordinates of the final destination from his ‘official’ list of nodes.”

“Seventy-two percent probability.” Teri had scanned the whole list. “That’s the best fit. It’s not very good. And the next one is way down, at only eight percent odds.”

“Is the glass half full, or is it half empty? Seventy-two percent doesn’t sound too great, I agree. But it’s so enormously better than eight percent, what are the chances that one match so good would pop up at random?”

Torran said, “You tell us.”

“I’ll tell you what Steven says. It’s only one in a thousand that the digit string you are looking at isn’t a genuine Bose sequence. But that doesn’t mean most of you will survive if you try it and it’s wrong. It’s all, or it’s nothing. And I’m certainly not going to try to persuade you to take the risk. I’d be quite happy if you would agree to stay here, with the Pride of Orion, and serve to coordinate whatever anyone else learns.”

Teri asked, “While you do what?”

“While I grow another ship, and make a Bose transition with it.”

“Forget that.” Torran tried to stand up, but there was not enough space at the table to permit it. “We were trained as survival team members. You just told us that we were the best of the group. Arabella Lund as much as said the same thing. If you go, we go. What are your qualifications in survival training?”

“Very limited. I could say that I have survived a large number of dangerous situations, but most of those could have been pure luck. However, that is irrelevant. Do you—both of you—wish to make the Bose transition with me?”

In unison, “We do.” Torran added, “Damn right we do. If you like we’ll go without you—we were trained in survival techniques. But no way are you going without us.”

“Then there are numerous preparations to be made. A new ship must be grown. Since the Pride of Orion will be without a crew, it must be left in a suitable condition to receive and relay all messages arriving from others. I must also send word of our proposed actions to Professor Lang’s group, and to E.C. Tally. If you will excuse me . . . ”

Graves hurried out. Torran Veck, pushing hard, moved the table far enough for him to move from behind it and stand up. He said, “A bit eager to leave us, don’t you think? You know what that means?”

“I have a good idea.”

“Graves had all his information days ago, before E.C. Tally left. He has been sitting on it, waiting.”

“Right.” Teri, penned in by Torran, was at last free to move from her seat. “Waiting until we went stir crazy and came looking for him. He knew that by now we would be so keen to see action, we would go along with whatever he suggested.”

“So we were manipulated.” Torran shook his head. “By a master. He’s damn good at it. Maybe that’s what it takes to be an Ethical Councilor—patience and cunning. I hope there’s more to it than that.”

“We could always back out.” They stared at each other, until Teri laughed. “No way, right? Better death than terminal boredom. But we have only seventy-two percent odds in our favor. That means there’s a twenty-eight percent chance that we’ll make a Bose jump, and end up God-knows-where, or nowhere at all. What then?”

“Then?” Torran draped his massive arm over Teri’s shoulder. “Why, then we find out how good as survival specialists we really are. Come on, Teri. If we’re going to kill ourselves, I’d rather get it over with sooner than later.”

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