The Last Theorem - Arthur Charles Clarke [26]
So they took the inconvenient step of detaching a fragment of themselves to carry the instruction to the One Point Fives, and so the One Point Fives had their marching orders almost as soon as the Grand Galactics had decided to give them. And because the One Point Fives had anticipated what the decision would be, they were already in full marching order by the time the orders came.
The One Point Fives saw no reason to delay. Their invasion armada was quite ready to launch. They launched it.
To be sure, the One Point Fives were wholly material and thus not exempted from the speed-of-light rule. Roughly a human generation would pass before the armada could reach its destination and exterminate the undesirable species. But it was on its way.
6
MEANWHILE, BACK ON EARTH
Things were looking up for Ranjit Subramanian—well, they were, that is, if you didn’t count the fact that Gamini was still nine thousand kilometers away and Ranjit’s own father might almost as well have been. And things were hotting up again in Iraq, where muscular Christian thugs with assault rifles were guarding one end of a bridge that they didn’t want crossed by Islamists; the bridge was guarded at the other side by equally husky and well-armed Islamists who didn’t want Christians polluting their side of the river.
There were many more such things going on, but those certainly weren’t the things that were giving some provisional happiness to Ranjit.
Such things did exist, though. He was not only enjoying Astronomy 101, he was doing very well in it. The worst of his quizzes received scores in the upper eighties, the goodwill of his teacher (as measured in the compliments he gave Ranjit’s questions and discussion) scoring perhaps even higher. Of course, Dr. Vorhulst found some way to compliment nearly everyone else in the class, too. It wasn’t just that he was an indulgent or lazy teacher, Ranjit decided. More likely it was that no one would sign up for his class who wasn’t fascinated by the idea of sometime, somehow seeing human beings going off to visit some of those bizarre other worlds. When Ranjit got his third straight hundred on a quiz, it occurred to him for the first time that perhaps he might actually have the makings of the kind of student who would make his father proud.
So as an experiment he tried taking his other classes a bit more seriously. He checked his philosophy teacher’s list of extra-credit reading and picked a book that had at least an interesting title. But when he took Thomas Hobbes’s great work Leviathan home, it quickly stopped being interesting. Was Hobbes saying that the human mind was like a machine? Ranjit wasn’t sure. Nor could he make sense of, say, the distinction between meritum congrui and meritum condigni. And while he was quite confident he knew what Hobbes was saying when he praised a “Christian state” as the highest form of government, that was not a notion that appealed to the doggedly agnostic son of the head priest of a Hindu temple. Nothing in Hobbes, for that matter, seemed very relevant to the life of anybody Ranjit knew. Glumly he took the book back to the library and headed to his room, hoping for nothing but a peaceful hour’s nap.
He found two letters waiting for him. One was in a creamy-textured envelope embossed with the university’s golden seal. Most likely, Ranjit thought, a notice from the student banking people to inform him that his father had sent along another quarter’s dorm rent. But the other was from London and thus from Gamini. Ranjit ripped it open at once.
If he had hoped that hearing from Gamini would brighten this unsatisfactory day, he was disappointed once more. It didn’t. The letter