and O are so great they cannot be bridged. The Systies tried and failed. We've never even tried—it's hard to get to know somebody who's trying to kill you."
"But we're making progress, aren't we, Merlin?" Dragon asked. "I mean we've learned a lot. We know how to kill them now. And we're still superior ship to ship."
"Yes—by Legion standards we're making progress. You know, there are some very important points about the O's that people tend to forget. For one thing, their technology is static. Their ships, their tactics, their weapons—it's all exactly the same now as it was hundreds of years ago. When we first met the O's, we lost—always. They were irresistible. Then, finally, we learned how to take on and defeat their star fleets. That ended the Plague War, and gave us a little breathing space. Until now, it was the only advantage we had. Their psypower insured we could not defeat them once they gained a foothold on a planet's surface."
"All right, so their technology is static. That's good," Dragon said.
"I'm not so sure. I worry about that. I worry a lot about it. You see, they're not responding to us. You'd think if we improve our tactics and start blowing away their ships, that they'd respond with something new. But they don't. They don't respond at all. We get a lot of their ships but they keep coming, just like before. It's almost as if we're not worth bothering about."
"What do you mean, Merlin?"
"Look at their tactics. They shower a target world with ships—hundreds of them. The ships discharge hordes of O's. The O's split up and wander all over the place, slaughtering everyone they see until the opposition ceases. Then they round up the survivors. But there's no grand strategy, there's no coordination. It's just individual O's, doing their own thing, and we can't stop a single one and eventually they take the whole planet."
"But they are organized," I objected. "They're more advanced than we are. They've got starships, bases, cities maybe."
"Yes, but look at how they fight us. One by one. Doesn't that scare you?"
"Scare me? It would scare me if it wasn't one by one!"
"Wrong, Thinker. Wrong. Think about it. I've said it before. They're not taking us seriously, they're not organized. We're a minor inconvenience to them. We're pests, to be swatted. If we ever really annoy them, they may decide to respond appropriately. Then we'll be in serious trouble. And our offensive, right here, right now, may be just the thing."
"Are you saying they're not fighting us?"
"That's exactly what I'm saying. We've been fighting them, for hundreds of years, but they haven't really noticed. That's scary as hell to me."
It was a bad thought. I looked up. It was snowing heavier now, the flakes landing right on my face. The air was icy cold and pure.
"Well, when Mother gets through with them, they'll know they've been in a fight—I guarantee it." Psycho examined his Manlink. She was his mistress, cold and silent and absolutely deadly. He loved her, without shame.
"Where do they come from, Merlin?" I asked.
"They're from so far away that we cannot imagine it," he replied. "From far back in time, from the very edge of the galaxy, from a blackened cinder circling a dead star, lost in a cosmic catastrophe. Now the whole race is on the move, and they're not going to let it happen again."
"That's pretty good," I said. Merlin didn't know, of course. Nobody knew—not even after all this time. Their starships detonated, antimat, whenever we hit one. We had no idea where they came from.
"Their genetics are somewhat similar to ours," Merlin continued, "believe it or not. They evidently consume human hemoglobin, and probably flesh as well. Nobody knows for sure. But they certainly take a lot of prisoners."
"Thanks, Merlin. I needed that," I said wearily.
"Everybody tenners here?" Snow Leopard stepped in from outside, his faceplate visor up. He was pale as death but his pink eyes were alive—I think I trusted him more than
"But we're making progress, aren't we, Merlin?" Dragon asked. "I mean we've learned a lot. We know how to kill them now. And we're still superior ship to ship."
"Yes—by Legion standards we're making progress. You know, there are some very important points about the O's that people tend to forget. For one thing, their technology is static. Their ships, their tactics, their weapons—it's all exactly the same now as it was hundreds of years ago. When we first met the O's, we lost—always. They were irresistible. Then, finally, we learned how to take on and defeat their star fleets. That ended the Plague War, and gave us a little breathing space. Until now, it was the only advantage we had. Their psypower insured we could not defeat them once they gained a foothold on a planet's surface."
"All right, so their technology is static. That's good," Dragon said.
"I'm not so sure. I worry about that. I worry a lot about it. You see, they're not responding to us. You'd think if we improve our tactics and start blowing away their ships, that they'd respond with something new. But they don't. They don't respond at all. We get a lot of their ships but they keep coming, just like before. It's almost as if we're not worth bothering about."
"What do you mean, Merlin?"
"Look at their tactics. They shower a target world with ships—hundreds of them. The ships discharge hordes of O's. The O's split up and wander all over the place, slaughtering everyone they see until the opposition ceases. Then they round up the survivors. But there's no grand strategy, there's no coordination. It's just individual O's, doing their own thing, and we can't stop a single one and eventually they take the whole planet."
"But they are organized," I objected. "They're more advanced than we are. They've got starships, bases, cities maybe."
"Yes, but look at how they fight us. One by one. Doesn't that scare you?"
"Scare me? It would scare me if it wasn't one by one!"
"Wrong, Thinker. Wrong. Think about it. I've said it before. They're not taking us seriously, they're not organized. We're a minor inconvenience to them. We're pests, to be swatted. If we ever really annoy them, they may decide to respond appropriately. Then we'll be in serious trouble. And our offensive, right here, right now, may be just the thing."
"Are you saying they're not fighting us?"
"That's exactly what I'm saying. We've been fighting them, for hundreds of years, but they haven't really noticed. That's scary as hell to me."
It was a bad thought. I looked up. It was snowing heavier now, the flakes landing right on my face. The air was icy cold and pure.
"Well, when Mother gets through with them, they'll know they've been in a fight—I guarantee it." Psycho examined his Manlink. She was his mistress, cold and silent and absolutely deadly. He loved her, without shame.
"Where do they come from, Merlin?" I asked.
"They're from so far away that we cannot imagine it," he replied. "From far back in time, from the very edge of the galaxy, from a blackened cinder circling a dead star, lost in a cosmic catastrophe. Now the whole race is on the move, and they're not going to let it happen again."
"That's pretty good," I said. Merlin didn't know, of course. Nobody knew—not even after all this time. Their starships detonated, antimat, whenever we hit one. We had no idea where they came from.
"Their genetics are somewhat similar to ours," Merlin continued, "believe it or not. They evidently consume human hemoglobin, and probably flesh as well. Nobody knows for sure. But they certainly take a lot of prisoners."
"Thanks, Merlin. I needed that," I said wearily.
"Everybody tenners here?" Snow Leopard stepped in from outside, his faceplate visor up. He was pale as death but his pink eyes were alive—I think I trusted him more than
Similar Books
