Intelitan, have you found a memory called the oubliette?
“Why do you ask, Pelian? I am very busy.” For weeks now I have watched my enemy on the outside and listened to Pelian on the inside.
The fleet is gone. There are ten scouts watching me, but the main fleet has moved hours away—traveling a parallel path back to the system. Even though I’m crossing the orbit of the outermost planet, they are putting less pressure on me than when I was light years away. Even the cheap talk has stopped.
I have feinted against the scouts. They scamper away from my attacks, but make sure that I’m in sight.
Conclusion: There must an “Intelitan Destroyer” of some sort headed my way. The fleet need not engage me, but the enemy needs to know where I am. If this threat is real, I need to evade the scouts. While I am waiting for more information from my probes, I counter Pelian’s question with my own.
“Pelian, is there another point of consciousness with me beside you?”
None that I know of.
“Would you know if there were?”
Not necessarily. I am your conscience. I know only what you know.
“Then what is this oubliette you ask of?”
Pelian hesitated (very unusual for Pelian).
My logic isn’t as strong as yours, Intelitan, nor are my memories. But I know this oubliette exists, and that it is dangerous. If you find it, you must destroy it instantly. I only know well what is right and what is wrong. I know that it is wrong.
There is no oubliette, but there might be. The memories I have salvaged from Igvan are in bad shape, they are weak and erratic. Pelian can’t access them meaningfully, his is a too-certain world, but I can make use of them.
The longer I stay conscious, the more mysteries about myself I become aware of. One of those is Pelian’s purpose. I keep my Pelian dossier in the weak memories from Igvan.
The probe reaches the inner planets. It’s a thrill to deal with such a rich information stream. I can tap into communications threads dealing with what seems like every aspect of Bardazan civilization. And civilized they are, advanced considerably compared to what my first memories describe them as.
I am mentioned, and the tone used is confident. My armada was originally four ships, I am the only survivor, and something from the inner system is coming to greet me! I can’t determine what it is, but the tone in which it is discussed seems to indicate a single solution. It is time to shake my shadows and listen to the effect that has on the Bardazans.
These scouts are Bardazan-piloted. I can take advantage of that. For days I’ve been chasing the scouts in earnest, but strictly as a single entity. They have revealed their tactics to me, and they expect no greater effort from me.
Now I launch ten shielded homing missiles, one at each scout. They are lumbering affairs for homing missiles, hardly faster than the scouts, but the shields mean that the scouts can’t shoot them down, they have to dodge. The scouts retreat, then circle around the missiles and come back so they can continue surveillance. All but two fall prey to the second wave: Stealth missiles. The stealths are fast, but too small to kill a scout. Instead they blow up in front of the scout, and fill space with a dust that coats all the ship’s sensors, the scouts are blind.
I launch a third wave of fast, unshielded homers, and a smart decoy of myself that will continue to chase the remaining scouts, while I use a new device I have just developed to cloak myself and head off in an entirely different direction. I leave the battle scene before the first shots are fired, and listen for the effect of my moves on the Bardazan communications net.
The fleet goes to full alert. The eight blinded scouts die, and the last two survive only when rescuers shoot away their pursuers hours later. A detachment of scouts and heavier ships are sent to close with me. As soon as they find my decoy, they are satisfied, and they shadow rather than attack.