The Black Hole

by Alan Dean Foster

  "That is near the center of the hole, my dear. Once through the hole, I believe I may emerge into a universe indifferent to what we call normal time, where those forty years will extend indefinitely. They may become four hundred years, or four thousand. There may be no upper limit if the aging process is effectively arrested. Life eternal."

  "With no possibility of death?"

  "Doesn't that interest you?"

  "I find the prospect appalling."

  Reinhardt chose not to reply to that and regarded her with what seemed a certain sadness.

  Holland and his companions stood nervously in the reception room, listening while old Bob poured out a longer version of the tale of deception and murder he had earlier related to Vincent. Occasionally Pizer or Booth would interrupt the older machine's story with a question. For the most part, they listened in horrified silence. Vincent hovered nearby, his attention focused on the doorway leading back into the maze of corridors.

  ". . . and the officer the men trusted most was Frank McCrae, because he was a ship's officer as well as a scientist," Bob was saying.

  "Kate's father." Pizer was fuming,

  "They turned to him when Dr. Reinhardt ignored the orders to return home. They were prepared to take control of the Cygnus. That was when Dr. Reinhardt unleashed his own carefully prepared takeover, using the reprogrammed robots. He rationalized his actions by accusing the rest of the crew of planning to mutiny. A mutiny against science, he called it, science and Reinhardt having become one and the same to his own mind.

  "Dr. McCrae was killed early in the struggle. The sentry robots operating solely at Dr. Reinhardt's discretion quickly finished the others. The rebellion was soon over."

  Holland stood quietly with the others for a while, then finally asked the question to which he was afraid he already knew the answer. "What became of the rest of the crew?"

  "The survivors are still on board."

  "Where?" Pizer wondered. "Are they being held prisoner somewhere? That funeral Dan saw . . ."

  "No, Mr. Pizer. At least, their bodies are not imprisoned. You have seen them yourself, in the command tower, running the power centers . . ."

  The first officer looked uncertain, unwilling to make the final mental connection.

  "Robots, Mr. Pizer." Vincent spoke brusquely. "Humanoid robots."

  "The most valuable thing in the Universe—intelligent life—means nothing to Dr. Reinhardt," Bob went on remorselessly. "To him, intelligence proves itself worthwhile only when it subordinates other interests to those of the greater good. By greater good, he came to believe it meant his personal interests and desires.

  "The Cygnus contains an elaborate surgery. Once it served to repair . . . to cure sick humans. Now it has been modified to program human beings to act like robots. They actually retain less individuality than such mechanicals as Vincent and myself.

  "Without their 'wills,' the crew became things Reinhardt could command. To me they are neither machine nor man any more, and less than either."

  Pizer looked sick. Holland turned to face the attentive reporter. "That explains the funeral I barged into and the limping robot you saw. I was right about the object I watched being ejected from the ship. It was human. But so were the robot pallbearers."

  "You mean there's a human body in those things?" Booth looked stunned. "I thought it was just that Reinhardt was trying to make his robots as human as possible. I didn't think, didn't imagine, it was the other way around."

  "None of us did, Mr. Booth," said Vincent. "Yet old Bob is telling only the truth. I myself saw the surgery in operation."

  Holland searched for something on which to vent his anger, something to break. He was frustrated by the sight of only seamless metal and unbreakable plastics.

  "We can't just take off and leave those poor devils behind." He continued to eye the reporter. "It looks like we'll have to try your plan to take over the Cygnus after all, Harry."

  It was comfortably cool in the reception area, but the reporter had suddenly begun to sweat. "And risk ending up like the crew? If they couldn't pull it off, what chance do we have?"

  "What about our being heroes, Harry?" Pizer was taunting him. "Changed your mind mighty fast."

  "Lay off, Charlie. I didn't think we'd have to fight a setup like this. I didn't know Reinhardt had managed to overcome the whole crew. I thought they'd abandoned ship, like he told us. Taking on one man and one robot, okay, but not a programmed army. Robots set to guard are one thing. Murder's another."

  "Captain," Bob said gently, "you would not be doing them a favor by returning them to Earth. The damage to their minds is irreversible. From what I have been able to observe and comprehend of the surgical process, it is possible their ability to respond individually might be restored, but they would be as mindless as newborn infants. Death is their only release."

  "For God's sake, Dan," Booth protested, "be sensible about this. We can't take on every robot on board. They already overcame a crew familiar with the ship. We wouldn't have a chance." He shuddered. "We might even be taken alive."

  "Regardless of results," said Vincent, "events have been set in motion which require that we act quickly, no matter the course we finally decide upon."

  "What events, Vincent?" Holland asked him.

  "I was forced to destroy two of the sentry robots. They discovered us while we were inside the surgery. Their counterparts are possibly searching the ship now. If the two I destroyed are found . . . The humanoid surgeons did not react to our presence, but it seems unlikely they did not record our appearance. If it is learned that we, and therefore through us you, know of the surgery and its function—"

  Holland interrupted the robot. He had heard enough. "Reinhardt couldn't let us return to Earth. Charlie, get aboard the Palomino and prepare for liftoff. Vincent, get in touch with Kate and tell her I want her and Alex back here, ready to leave, on the double."

  Vincent's lights twinkled in a particular pattern as they hurried toward the Palomino, indications that the esplink was being engaged. Pizer hurried on ahead of him. And Booth . . . Booth let out a sigh, relieved that his initially daring but now obviously foolhardy plan had been rejected.

  As a reporter, he had had occasion to live the life of the people he had been documenting. He did not, however, wish to sample the existence of a member of the Cygnus's altered crew.

  Within the command tower, Durant and McCrae. looked on as Reinhardt guided the mechanicals there through various preparatory tasks.

  "Lock in navigation on preprogrammed final course. Commence auxiliary inspection, all systems."

  McCrae was standing before the vast screen on which the three-dimensional image of the black hole was being projected. The gravitational maelstrom teased her scientific self. Emotionally, it terrified her.

  Meanwhile, Durant had strolled over to stand closer to Reinhardt. "You've achieved all this on your own, Dr. Reinhardt. You'd have every right to reserve your coming expedition to yourself, to reject the request of a Johnny-come-lately."

  "In quest of Eternal Youth, Alex?" It was hard to tell if the commander was mocking him, but by now Durant was so far gone with worshipful admiration that he wouldn't have cared anyway.

  "Scientific truth, Doctor."

  "Alex . . ." Reinhardt had been about to respond when McCrae's voice drew their attention. She stared blankly past them. "Dan wants us back on board. They're ready to lift off."

  The commander eyed her speculatively for a moment, then turned back to his mechanical servants. "Prepare engines. Stand by to build for maximum thrust. Commence maximum expansion of the null-g field." Then, more loudly, "Maximillian!"

  Instantly the huge mechanical joined them, floating out from nearby shadows.

  Within the cockpit of the Palomino, Vincent and Pizer finished checking out the ship's systems.

  "How are your readings?" Pizer asked his companion.

  "All systems are go," the robot replied. "Air regeneration is now working perfectly. Loo
ks good."

  "Damn it, Dan," Booth was arguing as he and Holland entered the cockpit, "if we wait for Alex we may be too late. I've seen the look in his eyes before, believe me. He's been hypnotized by that man. He's not one of us any more. He's become an acolyte."

  Holland considered, then spoke to the robot. "Vincent, tell Kate I want her back here fast . . . with or without Alex."

  "What if she objects, sir?"

  Holland's teeth were clenched as he spoke. "Then tell her why I want her back."

  McCrae continued to remonstrate with Durant. "Alex, you can't throw your life away. You're a respected scientist, a good research man. You've got discoveries of your own ahead of you. Discoveries that will mean something, because you'll be alive to expound on them." She was pleading desperately with him now. "Don't throw all that away. Let him go if he wants to, but you . . ."

  "He can do it, Kate," Durant countered excitedly, blindly. "I know he can. There's a whole new Universe beyond the black hole. A point where time and space as we know it no longer exist. We'll be the first to experience it, see it . . . the first to explore it." He turned away from her, his attention going back to the shifting images on multiple screens, smothered by the feeling that Great Things were about to happen.

  It didn't matter. Kate was no longer listening to him anyway. A look of utter horror transformed her visage as Vincent's hurried but graphic description of his own little discovery resounded in her brain.

  "Initiate Cygnus Process," Reinhardt was saying. "Commence generation sequence . . ."

  At the far end of the ship the order was received by humanoid technicians. Adjustments were made to controls and instrumentation. Eight enormous, drastically modified engines began to glow softly, taming the annihilation beginning within. The aura that appeared around each engine was a radiant side effect of the Cygnus Process. The halo of power.

  Aboard the Palomino they could neither hear Reinhardt's commands nor witness his directives being carried out, but they could feel the results. A subtle vibration shook the cockpit, communicated from the skin of the Cygnus.

  There was a moment's silence as each man absorbed the import of that vibration while their bodies absorbed the actuality of it. Then Booth began looking around wildly, like a man seeking some miraculous transtemporal means of escape.

  "He's going to do it! The crazy fool really means to do it! He'll kill us all if you don't get us out of here now, Dan! We've got to pull clear while there's still—"

  "Take it easy, Harry," Holland ordered tautly. "He wants us free to monitor his flight into the hole. We've still got time."

  "He may have changed his mind. He may want to take us all down with him, to prove just how insane he is. You're gambling with our lives, and the odds are going up every second you hesitate."

  "Harry . . . shut up."

  Someone besides the men on the Palomino was aware that the time for discussion had ended. The time for decision-making had arrived, and was passing all too quickly.

  Kate McCrae emerged from the fog of mind-to-machine contact. She blinked twice, then spoke with quiet finality to the man who was no longer her colleague. "Alex, we've got to get back to the ship. Now. They're preparing to leave. Dan can't wait for us much longer."

  "I'm staying." Durant's tone left no room for argument.

  She still held one weapon she hadn't used. She employed it now. "You don't understand, Alex. Reinhardt's a murderer . . . and worse. Those . . . creatures over there, the ones monitoring all the instruments and flight consoles, they aren't humanoid. They're human. Or they were once."

  A crack appeared in Durant's surety. "I don't follow you, Kate."

  "Use your head, Alex. I know you've got one. They're what's left of the original human crew. They've been surgically altered on Reinhardt's orders to obey only his commands. Their wills, their humanity, have been destroyed."

  "I . . . I don't believe . . ."

  McCrae pressed her attack. "It's true, Alex," she continued, trying to keep an eye on Reinhardt at the same time. "Vincent and an old supply roboclerk saw the surgery. You remember Dan's story about the funeral, and Harry's about the robot with the limp?"

  "No . . . I . . ." Durant spun away from her, gods and decisions crumbling around him in the face of the unbelievable.

  Could Vincent be mistaken? Booth, sure. Dan, maybe. But a mechanical as reliable as Vincent, one trained to observe and report only facts? Vincent disliked Reinhardt. Could that be enough reason for a machine as facile and advanced as Vincent deliberately to fabricate . . .?

  It couldn't be true. It couldn't!

  Reinhardt must have noticed something amiss, because he was walking toward them now, his gaze trained not on Durant but on McCrae.

  "What's wrong, Dr. McCrae?" He was staring intently at her. "You look ill."

  Durant was fighting to organize his thoughts, to make sense from chaos. I need time, he thought frantically. Time to think this through. But there is no time.

  "Kate's upset that I've elected to go with you," he said hurriedly, covering for her.

  "I'm afraid she's also going to join us," Reinhardt informed them calmly.

  "No!" She took a step away from them both.

  Reinhardt regarded her with a mixture of compassion and an icy resolution his previous declamations had only hinted at.

  "The optimum conditions for entering the black hole exist now. Everything is functioning perfectly. With your presence a new opportunity offers itself. You see, my dear, your esplink will insure that news of our success gets back to the Palomino via the robot you are in mind contact with, and thence to the world. You will be helping to complete the mission your father gave his life for. A rare honor.

  "Your friends will leave shortly, to save their own lives, not realizing they are following my plan for them."

  "What you say about my father is not true!" she burst out.

  Reinhardt sighed. There was much to do. He had no time for this. Silly woman. Like all the rest of them, she could see no farther than the pitiful span of her own life. She didn't realize that, measured against the opportunity of unlocking the secrets of the Universe, a life was nothing. Nothing! It seemed that she and her friends had learned everything. There was no longer any reason for the masquerade he had been conducting.

  Durant began edging unobtrusively toward the nearest console. The figures there ignored him, intent on their respective duties.

  "My father was a loyal and honorable man," McCrae was saying, refusing to be intimidated. "He would never have condoned the abandonment of this ship as long as her life-support systems functioned."

  "I say he did."

  Durant now stood poised next to a humanoid operating a portion of the complex drive-to-direction instrumentation. Still the figure ignored him. Durant put a hand over the reflective, parabolic face shield, waited for the mechanical to object. It did not. He pulled the shield off.

  A face that had once been human continued to take no notice of him, continued to stare only at the controls it had been programmed to watch. Eyes that were smaller versions of the face mask itself stared dully out at a barely perceived world. They hinted only at the void behind them.

  Durant's mouth dropped open and he began backing away, gaping in disgust at the thing that had once been a man, a man with hopes and loves and hates just like himself. A man who had been drained of his humanness as thoroughly as a bottle is drained of its contents. Only the empty shell remained behind, refilled with the dank, noisome syrup of blind obeisance to Reinhardt.

  "You might as well let me go join my friends." McCrae continued to speak with more confidence than she felt. "I won't send any messages for you, whether you're successful or not."

  "I'm sorry to hear you say that, my dear, but I have no time to argue with you. I would have preferred your cooperation. Perhaps it's better we work another way." He glanced to his right, spoke with regret. "Maximillian, see that the young lady receives appropriate medical treatment immediately."

&
nbsp; There was a hum that rose above the susurration of power flowing through the ship as the massive robot moved toward McCrae. She looked in disbelief at the nearing machine, realizing instantly what was in store for her.

  "No . . . you can't . . ." Don't stand there pleading like an idiot child, she told herself frantically. He's already altered—the word came hard in the face of her personal involvement—most of the ship's crew. Why should he hesitate to stop at you?

  "Let her go!" Durant made a sudden, wild charge for Reinhardt. He never reached him. A burst of bright, deadly light from one of Maximillian's lasers drilled him as neatly as any knife.

  Reinhardt allowed himself a disappointed glance at the scientist's prone form. "I'm sorry for you, Dr. Durant. I had hopes for a while that you might . . . but I expected too much of you. A pity you could not rise above your primitive self. I would have enjoyed your companionship."

  "If there's any justice at all," McCrae said viciously, "that black hole will be your grave, Reinhardt."

  "We are dealing here only with the laws of physics, my dear. Not with the arbitrary social contracts man calls law. If I perish, it will be only a matter of physics, not the other. And you will die with me."

  Holland's hand paused, hovered over a control as Reinhardt's voice suddenly issued from the console speaker.

  "You are cleared for liftoff, Captain Holland. I will allow you ample time to clear the Cygnus's null-g field, but you must aim to achieve sufficient escape velocity immediately. Doctors Durant and McCrae have elected to remain on the Cygnus to participate in the great experiment. They wish you and your friends well."

  "I told you," Booth said knowingly. "Alex has bought Reinhardt's theory completely. He's as thoroughly under that madman's control as if he'd been surgically fixed like the others."

  "Maybe he has," Holland countered, "but Kate wouldn't." Of one mind, they all turned to Vincent.

  "Dr. Durant's opinions are no longer of concern. He is dead. Maximillian killed him as he was rushing at Dr. Reinhardt. They're taking Dr. Kate to the hospital."