Battle Station by B. V. Larson Read Free Book Online Page A

If they turned around and ran, I’d let them, but otherwise…
    “Combat appears inevitable, Colonel,” Marvin said calmly.
    I shook my head. No, dammit! I didn’t want it to go down that way.
    “No,” I said aloud. “I’m not going to start a new war. I’ve cooked one sentient being today, and that’s quite enough. They may not even have full control of their ships. This ship didn’t even have its new pilot acquisition program turned off.”
    Marvin swung a number of cameras toward me, but said nothing. I wondered what he was thinking about this entire sequence of events. I didn’t know, but I suspected he was taking notes and enjoying the drama he’d helped stir up between three species—two biotics and the Nanos themselves. Perhaps he thought of it as a grand, sociological experiment.
    I recalled the early days of dealing with the Nano ships, back when they would mass up and charge anything that entered our system, oftentimes suicidally. Those had not been fun days for the pilots. For all I knew, the lobsters were madly trying to figure out how to stop their ships from attacking.
    I spent the next ten minutes or so working out a script Butcher would accept. I wanted it to dump us, then fly back to where the Crustaceans came from—I suspected it was one of those hot-water moons I’d scanned—and pick up a new pilot. Hopefully, the rest of the ships would stand down and not try to destroy us.
    There was one more obvious step to take before exiting the system. I needed to make contact with the pilots of these Nano ships. I needed them to know we were not invading monsters—if they could be convinced at this point.
    “Butcher, open a channel with the pilots of the approaching fleet. You will translate our English into the natural language of the pilots.”
    “Channel request sent.”
    It took about thirty tense seconds before we heard anything else. They were still a long way off. “Channel open,” the ship said.
    “Hello fellow ship captains. We are not hostile. Break off your attack. We wish to exchange information, not laser fire.”
    About half a minute later, the response came in: “Your threats do not impress us. You are alone. We have the advantage.”
    Threats? I mulled over my words. Perhaps they’d taken my reference to laser fire as a threat. I heaved a sigh. Another touchy bunch of aliens. At least they weren’t talking in pictures.
    “Colonel Riggs?” Marvin asked. “Could you tell the ship to transmit the original alien speech to me as it comes in? I would like to learn this new language.”
    “Don’t know this one, huh? Okay,” I said, and gave Butcher the orders. I watched as a black tentacle of nanites extended down from the roof of the bridge and intersected Marvin’s body. He watched it descend with a large number of squirming cameras. I could tell he could hardly wait. Nothing turned on Marvin’s brain like a new alien language.
    “I come in peace. This ship attacked me and forced us to participate in tests. I was forced to kill the pilot. I apologize, and will now return the ship to your people. A new pilot can be selected. No one need lose another life.”
    After the delay—which was fractionally shorter than before, the response came back: “Claiming your errors were made from ignorance will not save you. Errors are crimes, and you will be slain for having communicated these concepts. I can’t believe such a creature as you overcame one of our principal investigators.”
    Principal investigators? Errors were crimes? I thought about that. These lobsters sounded different than the Worms or the Centaurs. The Worms were brave individualistic warriors. The Centaurs thought of little other than herd honor. What I was hearing from these guys was something that reminded me of a group of prissy academics. I’d known plenty of those in my college-teaching days. They were prideful of their intellect and scornful of others. To them, there was no greater crime than mistakes, lies