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leadings of their psychology still were utter unknowns.
But it s so far, so good, she thought, watching the monster slide past in the
distance. She was glad she d told Chesty to steer her closer to the ringwall,
though. Had she emerged from the Gate near the center of its opening, she
might well have slammed headlong into the ass end of that thing.
That didn t let her out of the woods, though. If she applied power to
decelerate in order to reverse course and return to the Gate, the Xul monster
might easily pick up her energy signature; scraps of interstellar debris did
not reverse course on their own, nor did they radiate the clouds of neutrinos
that were the waste product of tapping the virtual energy of the Quantum Sea.
Lee felt a small shiver at the base of her neck, a prickling warning of
danger. If she couldn t reverse course, she would die of radiation poisoning
in short order. And, even if she did reverse course& the Xul
Nightmare s presence suggested that the Stargate on this side was now attuned
to a different star system.
If she went through, she would not emerge at Puller 659, but in some other
unguessable but absolutely guaranteed remote location. Chesty could retune the
Gate for a return, of course; the Puller 659 Gate s coordinates were
programmed into him.
But that would be a rather nasty giveaway to the Xul here at Starwall, who
would certainly be monitoring the Gate s settings. Regulation One-alpha,
drilled into every Marine standing duty at a Gate listening post, was to lay
low and keep a low profile, to not attract Xul attention to human activities.
Humankind had survived for the past eight centuries only because they d
managed, on the whole, to stay off the metaphorical Xul radar.
 Chesty? she asked.  Are you picking anything up from over there? Can you
piggyback it?
 We are intercepting the usual RF leakage, the AI replied.  I am attempting
to locate a viable frequency with which to establish a tap.
Xul ships leaked, at least at radio frequencies. The millions of kilometers of
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nanoelectronic circuitry and processors packed into each of those immense
hulls gave off a constant hiss and murmur of radio noise as a kind of
metabolic byproduct, and the Xul never seemed to bother with shielding. Some
theorists suggested that the radio noise served an almost organic function,
helping to reassure individual Xul ship-entities that others of their kind
were near.
Ever since the first studies carried out on the Singer eight centuries before,
humans had looked for ways to turn this fact to their advantage. It was
possible, for instance, to use some Xul frequencies as carrier waves, allowing
human-developed AI programs to upload into a Xul computer network and have a
look around. The technique was called piggybacking, and Marine listening posts
often used it in attempts to gather yet more intelligence on the poorly
understood and still mysterious Xul.
There was an ancient aphorism, something all Marines learned in boot camp,
something from the writings of Sun Tzu in The Art of War. It stated that if
the warrior knew himself, but not the enemy, he would be victorious only half
the time. If he knew the enemy, but not himself, he would, again, be
victorious only one battle out of two. Only if the warrior knew the enemy and
himself could he hope to win every battle& .
The Marine philosophy, begun in the crucible of recruit training, was designed
to create a sure knowledge
of self. Unfortunately, even after eight centuries, the Xul were still largely
an utterly alien quantity.
Xenocultural theorists were still divided as to whether the Xul could properly
be called living beings& or even whether they were self-aware, both sentient
and conscious in the same way that humans understood the terms. In most ways,
they appeared to be machine intelligences, like human-designed AIs, but on a
far vaster and more powerful scale.
There were hints, however, that each Xul ship contained hundreds, perhaps
thousands of organic minds patterned and downloaded into the vessel s
circuitry, separate identities arrayed in a gestalt, a group mind, in an
interconnected collection referred to ever since the discovery of The
Singer as a chorus.
There were hints, too, that a Xul chorus included the downloaded minds both of
the original, biological
Xul, beings whose organic bodies had died and decayed countless millennia ago,
and the minds of other intelligent beings captured and incorporated into the
Xul matrix for purposes of interrogation& the Xul version of knowing both self
and adversary. So far, the Xul definitely had the advantage in the arena of
knowing, but progress had been made in that direction during the past eight
centuries.
As Chesty was about to demonstrate& .
2
Chesty
2
Starwall System
1608 hrs GMT
Unlike humans, the artificial intelligence, dubbed  Chesty after the nickname
of a legendary Marine of long ago, did not rely exclusively on vision to model
his surroundings. Merging with the data streams flowing like myriad streams
and rivers through the tightly packed and tangled electronic pathways of the
alien vessel, the closest sensory analogue he possessed was that of sound.
Human understanding of Xul mentalities had actually taken an enormous leap
forward in the twenty-fourth century, when communications breakthroughs with
dolphins in Earth s oceans had helped forge a new understanding of how they
perceived their watery surroundings as magical, somehow crystalline panoramas
of sound rendered palpable.
From Chesty s point of view, he was slipping deeper into a vast and hauntingly
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resonant meshing of rhythms and harmonies, a blending of tones and pulses and
throbbings and even voices in a shifting, ever changing whole that felt both
self-directing and self-contained, but which also felt like a fragment, a
discrete but dependent shard of something far larger, tantalizingly beyond the
reach and scope of
Chesty s awareness.
The trick was twofold remaining invisible within that harmonic chorus while
retaining the ability to probe and peer and penetrate, winkling out useable
data from the incoherent ocean of information pulsing around him and recording
it for later analyses. As he slipped into the Xul data stream, Chesty
manifested a data shell around the essential core of his operating software,
taking on the virtual appearance of a minor counterpoint to the thronging
choral harmony about him. So long as he played the part and kept it low-key,
he should be able to remain undetected. His distant ancestors would have
recognized the technique at once. Chesty was, for all intents and purposes, a
computer virus slipping in through an
3
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