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“Now, we’re here in front of the
Host military command,” said George. “Since you know how to draw using that
device now, I want you to start your presentation, using that device to make
any drawings. The Hosts are over here,” he faced her in that direction, “and the
drawing board is back here.” He faced her the other way.

“OK,” said Shanti. She turned to
face the Hosts and threw up her right arm, which held the drawing device.

“We will begin by outlining some
basic principles that we believe, once fully understood, will provide important
practical insight into the nature of the Cyclopes faster-than-light engine and
of the portal from your home world to the diplomatic station, which recently
closed.”

Shanti’s voice had suddenly turned
loud and brisk, as though she were addressing her unit but had somehow
forgotten to use obscenities. Her right arm, seemingly of its own accord, began
sketching furiously as she continued, her half-closed eyes not once looking at
the elaborate drawing emerging on the wall behind her.

“While disabling the Cyclopes
engine at the moment lies beyond our comprehension, we believe that we have
uncovered the theoretical understanding needed to reopen the portal, thus
contacting the other alien species and, we hope, obtaining their assistance in
this crisis. We begin with the eighteenth blossom of energy, which we have
sketched out here.”

Philippe looked at the drawing on
the wall. It looked nothing like a blossom.

Shanti continued to draw, modifying
her sketch as she spoke without looking at it. She talked at a brisk clip,
enunciating clearly and never much varying the tone of her voice. Philippe had
never seen her look so professional, although he had no idea what she was
talking about.

Finally she said, “We’d like to
mention a theory popular on Earth, called string theory. Specifically, some of
the insights from the third string revolution we think will shed some light on
this matter.”

Shanti paused, and then regained
her professional composure. “String theory was developed on Earth. It is somewhat
dated, but we think you’ll see that some of the ideas have some interesting and
relevant parallels to some of the ideas we’ve just presented.”

“Where does the eighteenth blossom
of energy come from?” asked the Host.

Shanti swayed from side to side,
and then stopped. “That one’s yours,” she said.

“It once was,” said the Host. “It
is an ancient theory. It was popular during the lifetime of cannot translate.
Do you know of him?”

Philippe thought he heard the Host
say
kre
and
nao,
although it was hard to hear his voice over the
earplant.

“Who?” asked Shanti in a small
voice.

“Cannot translate,” said the Host,
and Philippe was sure he heard
kre
followed by a
ki
and a
nao.
“Do you know of him or his song?”

There was a slight rustling as
apparently every Host in the room felt the need to shift his feet. The room
fell silent, and Philippe realized that the atmosphere had changed from one of
curious attention to something closer to awe.

A couple of the Hosts began to
thrum.

“What should we do to reopen the
portal?” asked the Host.

Shanti paused, her eyelids relaxing
again. She reached out with the drawing implement and speedily erased the image
on the wall.

“Since the Cyclopes
faster-than-light engine essentially creates a short-lived portal, our
recommended course of action is: 1. Acquire a Cyclopes ship that is powered by
a faster-than-light engine. 2. Position said ship in the center of the closed
portal. 3. Detonate the ship. It will require significant explosive firepower
in order to bring the engine up to the appropriate energy level, but once that
firepower is achieved, the portal should immediately reopen and remain stable.”

“We obey,” said the Host.

A few moments later the room was
clear of all the Hosts except for Max. George was holding Shanti’s arm and
slowly counting backwards.

“The chosen one may not be a Host,
but at least the chosen one is female,” Max replied. He stopped a soldier and
explained where they wanted to go; the soldier immediately changed direction,
and thrumming away, took them toward what Philippe assumed was tactical.

“I thought that you guys said that
most Hosts didn’t know the prophecy,” said Philippe as they walked. “Those guys
sure seemed to know it pretty well.”

“They do not know every word of it,”
said Max. “Only the priests know that, and only priests see the image. But
everyone is trained to identify the chosen one.”

They followed the soldier into a
large, dark room, and Philippe gasped. On the wall were large video images of
the fight, but his attention was seized by a three-dimensional graphic of the
battle that took up the middle of the floor. At first Philippe thought the
whole thing was some sort of projection, but he realized by watching the Host
move across the floor that there were clear columns rising from the floor, each
of which contained an image of a specific area of space, with different colored
icons representing ships and satellites.

Philippe looked at the walls and
the displays, trying to figure out which ships belong to which side. Neither
side had warships that were clear like the Host merchant vessels, however.
Instead, there were ships that were angular, almost like a W, that shot
missiles, and there were round ships that shot what looked like liquid fire.

What do they burn in space?
Philippe
wondered.

He thought at first that the round
ships must be the Cyclopes ships, because a species that could shoot beams from
its body seemed likely to build ships that also shot beams. But he asked Max,
who told him that the round ships were the Hosts and the angular ships were the
Cyclopes.

One Cyclopes ship in particular
dominated the wall screens. Several Host ships were picking at it with their
beams of liquid fire. They were joined by several gigantic, multi-tailed
versions of the little tow-pods that the Hosts had once used to grab Earth
satellites when they went through the Titan portal. These ships began to grip
the Cyclopes ship with their whiplike extensions, like a mob of octopi.

The three-dimensional graphic gave
another perspective: It showed a cluster of Host ships around one Cyclopes
ship—and it showed the other Host ships being outflanked and punished as a
result of this concentration of forces.

But the Cyclopes were either unable
or unwilling to engage the ship’s engine, and it was cut off from the other
Cyclopes ships by the Hosts. The tow-pods dragged the captive ship just in
front of the filigree circle that marked the now-closed portal and held it
there.

“Can they evacuate before their
ship is destroyed?” asked Philippe.

“The people in the towing ships? I
do not think that will be possible,” said Max. “But they know for what their
sacrifice is being made.”

“I meant—that’s bad, too. What
about the Cyclopes?”

Max looked uncomfortable. “Even if
they were to evacuate, their own ships cannot pick them up here, and the
planetary defenses are activated and will automatically destroy all alien
vessels that approach them.” He looked at Philippe. “It is regrettable, but
this is our first space war, and we have not had the opportunity to prepare to
be civilized.”

Chapter 19

The noise was incredible, a hundred times worse than taking
off in a rocket. It tore through Philippe’s very being, rattling his eye
sockets. The monitors on the walls showed the massive beam of fire in the
instant before it hit the Cyclopes ship.

Philippe felt his stomach twist as
a cold sensation traveled up through his body, making his teeth chatter and his
hands shake.
Get away,
he thought.

The river of flame flowed through
what now appeared to be empty space.
What in God’s name does she want?
Philippe
wondered.

Max wisely chose not to attempt
translation. Just then, a Host soldier ran in holding the portable translation
device.
I guess we left that in the conference room,
Philippe thought.

“Is it done?” asked George.

“I think so,” said Shanti.

George scowled at the screens. “It
doesn’t look any different. That light should be straddling the portal, right?
But it’s all on this side.”

“It’s just light,” Shanti replied.
“It’s OK, it isn’t matter.”

George looked incredulous. “But
there has to be something giving off that light, right?”

Shanti gave a brief bark of
laughter. “Try not to worry about it. See there, I think that’s a message probe
going to get help. When it—
shit!
”

“Oh, goody, more surprises,” said
George.

The satellite had collided with
something that was coming through the portal from the other side—something very
big and very dark. It glistened in the sunlight like polished onyx. It didn’t
seem to have a definite shape, instead extruding itself through the portal like
paste from a tube.

The tactical room was completely
silent for a moment. Even the ships near the portal seemed to stop in wonder. A
rainbow of colors flashed in the depths of the dark, semi-transparent body as
it flowed out of the portal.

A Cyclopes ship, which had been
attempting a rescue of its captured brethren, was the first to react, zipping
around the momentarily flabbergasted Host ships and shooting a missile at the
new threat.

The missile struck the front end of
the visitor, burrowing in and exploding. A chunk was blown off and began to
drift toward the Cyclopes ship. As it traveled, the chunk dissolved into a dark
mist. The mist quickly caught up to the Cyclopes ship and surrounded it in a
sooty cloud. Then the cloud contracted, covering the ship like a coat of paint.

Oh, no,
thought Philippe.

The Cyclopes ship was in sunlight,
so everyone in the tactical room could see when its humid atmosphere began to
vent into space. The crew must have been desperately trying to seal off
sections of the ship, for the white atmosphere came out in bursts—some vapor
would vent, and then there would be a pause, and then more venting. Philippe
watched in horror as the dark mist lifted off the dead ship, which floated
aimlessly until the defense station’s secondary guns cut it into ribbons.