“Why don’t you try and settle down, Mr. Dandridge,” Karen suggested. “I don’t think anything is broken, but you’ll have to deal with the pain for a day or two until the bruise on your eye begins to heal.”
“Can’t you give me something for the pain?” Dandridge asked unpleasantly.
“Oh, I think a tough guy like you can take a little discomfort,” she replied nonchalantly. “Or you wouldn’t be starting fights, now would you?” She carefully touched a fresh, cold cloth to the darkening bluish-black bruise under his eye and he flinched.
“You’re a member of our new Council,” growled Dandridge. “So this is as much your fault as anyone. You’re supposed to be leading us and yet you allow a known enemy to walk freely among us.”
“He is not a free man, Mr. Dandridge,” Karen said. “And he has you for a neighbor. From your attitude I would guess that means he’s under a careful neighborhood watch… whenever you’re at home, anyway.”
“Are you mocking me?” he snarled.
“No,” she replied with a smile. “I’m not mocking you… or your faith.” He flinched again, this time at her remark and not from the injury.
“What do you know about my faith?” he demanded.
“Oh, a lot actually,” she commented. “You’ve been telling everyone on the ship what a deeply religious person you are and how your God is great and everyone else’s is false. There are only 897 people aboard, so word gets around… especially when you make your points so often and so loudly.” He started to say something but one look from her quieted him. “Me,” she continued, “I’m a healer, so I spend most of my time listening to people. Life and experience have both taught me that you can get a much better sense of just who a person is by what he does as opposed to what he says he does.”
“Oh really?” Dandridge said snidely.
“That’s right,” she said, carefully placing a large gauze bandage over his eye. “I checked my work station when you were brought in. This is your tenth trip to our Medical Ward in the two months that we’ve been out in space.” She glanced quickly at the information on her console. “Headaches, upset stomach, lower back pain from hauling the heavy equipment in the hangar bay, etc. etc.”
“It’s a really tough job down there, especially when we were bringing all that mineral rock aboard.”
“Oh, I’m sure,” Karen said. “But there are dozens of other people working right alongside you and I haven’t had a single visit from any of them.” She grabbed him firmly by the chin and glared into his good eye. “That tells me you like taking full advantage of the free health care offered on board this ship. Your loud-mouthed complaining about other peoples’ faith tells me that you’re insecure about your own. And… your claim to be a devout religious person tends to fall a little flat when you’re brought in here injured because you tried to start a fight in a restaurant with one of your peers.”
“He’s a member of that Brotherhood!” Dandridge said, pointing at the man sitting quietly across from him. “His people annihilated ours. For God’s sake, how can you…”
“I’m a member of the new Council, remember?” she pointed out, letting go of his chin. “That means I’m someone who can and will bear witness against you for unprovoked, aggravated assault should this incident go to a trial.”
“Oh, come on!” he protested. “You can’t seriously be saying that this murderer has the same rights as everybody else?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” said Dr. Simmons, looking very angry herself. “The Captain has ordered that rule of law will prevail on this ship. The Council and I freely voted to offer a partial pardon to this man in exchange for his future good behavior. He has also generously agreed to stop by now and then so that I can study him and learn more about the mysterious culture he comes from.”
“He is not my peer!” Dandridge screamed.
“According to my tests, he is,” said Karen. “He’s a man in much better shape than you are, by the way.” She glanced over at Warren and gestured for him to stand up. “Patrick, will you please repeat the strength test that you demonstrated for me yesterday morning?”
Warren had been sitting quietly minding his own business. He looked at her hesitantly and said, “Are you sure? I don’t exactly see what that will prove?”
“Go ahead and show us,” Dr. Simmons insisted. “We have plenty of furniture here on board the Pathfinder.”
Warren shrugged and stood up. He walked over to the back of the room and tipped over one of the heavy wooden tables set along the back wall. A few scattered papers, pens, and clipboards on the table’s surface slid and fell to the floor as he did so. Patrick firmly grabbed one of the table legs – the cylinder of wood was at least 3 inches thick – and pulled it effortlessly loose. Dandridge and both marines watched in astonishment as the cloned human carefully held up the heavy piece of wood and snapped it in half as easily as most people would break a pretzel stick. He continued by snapping the table leg into neat, 12 inch lengths and finished his demonstration by taking one of the 12 inch pieces and also breaking it cleanly down the middle. He dropped the two pieces he was holding onto the floor and silently returned to his seat.
Karen turned back to Dandridge and noted his terrified expression. “The next time you decide to pick a fight with Mr. Warren, you might want to remember this little incident. He may not be able to control his emotions and may seriously injure you.” She pointed to the door. “We’re all done, Mr. Dandridge. If you put a clean bandage on your eye tomorrow morning, I’m pretty sure you’ll live.” He paused to glare with hostility at her this time. “I’d change that bad attitude of yours, and fast,” she suggested, noticing his rage. “Uncontrolled hatred is going to get you into major trouble on this ship.” She watched him walk out of the room and then quietly returned her attention to Warren.
“I’m okay,” he insisted, tossing the gauze from his nose into a wastebasket. “Really, Doctor, the bleeding has stopped so I’d better get back to work. I promised the Captain…”
“Your promise was to the Council,” she corrected him, easing him back into his seat. “And I seem to have to keep pointing out to people that I’m a member of it.” She turned toward the marine guards. “Please, wait outside. My patient has a right to confidentiality.”
“Yes, ma’am… just call if you need us,” one of them said as both men left the room.
“I’m all right, really,” Warren insisted, a little too heatedly for her taste. She reached over to activate a portable tape recorder and set it on the table next to her. Patrick looked at her a bit defiantly. “Are you going to do some more MRIs and X-Rays, or do I get a day off?”
“I know the Mirzion supplements we’ve issued have stopped most of the hallucinations people have been having,” she said, completely ignoring his sarcasm. “How about your dreams – have they stopped also?”
“Most of them,” he replied. “The nightmares, at least.”
She sat quietly, unsure of what to say next. “Patrick, what your people did…”.
“What my people did was wrong,” he said. “I know that now, but I wasn’t privy to a whole lot of the ‘master plan’ during my time on Earth. And if I had known that nuclear war was the end game, I sincerely might have tried to do something about it. That’s what no one on this ship can possibly understand unless they’ve lived in the Brotherhood and experienced it for themselves. Some of my people have some very sinister ideas about our society and its right to control Earth, Doctor. Others don’t.”
“Why don’t those others protest?”
“My people speak with a unified voice,” he replied, looking down at the floor. “Both you and the Captain know at least part of my secret now, but you haven’t seen our system actually function. The Triumvirate wants the human clones to feel and experience emotion… they monitor it very carefully, studying and processing it as raw data. We are evaluated regularly as we mature and taught to reject the feelings that don’t suit the Triumvirate’s purpos
es. What you call love, happiness, and compassion are simply emotional states that it can use to tempt us. Then we gradually learn how to use those emotions as tools to ensnare other people holding key positions.”
“You still could have voiced your opinion,” the Doctor insisted. “As could others.”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Like I said, you haven’t seen the process, Dr. Simmons.” He looked at the ceiling and his eyes filled with tears. “Many of us have tried to object to our tasks and assignments, even discussed it with each other. I’ve had conversations with fellow Brotherhood members – almost all of whom at some point took a moment to voice dissent or even simple doubts about our plans to infiltrate other nations so that we could extort or simply take from them. After speaking to those who disagreed I’ve literally seen them met by soldiers and taken away to be executed… the Triumvirate eavesdrops on everything. The only reason that I survived was due to my ‘top of the class’ ranking. They knew I was highly skilled, and that persistent efforts to manipulate my emotions would eventually pay off. I’m telling you, the Triumvirate observes the emotional process in its clones, studies it, and then works to shut it down in the same way you would when you turn off a faucet because you’ve got enough water in your sink.”
“That sounds very frightening, Patrick. You’re describing a complete lack of individual freedom and no personal rights.” She studied his expression carefully. “You’ve been preconditioned to serve the Brotherhood.”
“We look like humans, we are humans, but we aren’t allowed to be humans,” he said, and this time the tears came unchecked. He leaned forward in his chair, head in hands and sobbed uncontrollably for a moment while the Doctor patiently waited.
“That’s the part right there that your Triumvirate doesn’t understand yet,” she said. “The need for a human being to express emotion… even if it’s just to let the emotional baggage go to keep it from bottling up inside. And it scares me, because if your leaders ever figure out the part of the human equation they currently lack – that which makes us fully human – they will almost certainly discover that they have as little in common with you as they do with my people.”
“I have met all three of them. The Triumvirate believes itself to be infallible,” he told her, wiping tears from his eyes. “I can’t imagine what the reaction was for the people on that warship who were out-maneuvered and out-fought by your Captain, the Pathfinder and its crew.” He shook his head doubtfully. “Those who survived were very likely executed for incompetence.”
“That kind of reaction is probably very similar to the reaction a small child has when it first begins to learn that there is danger in the world and that it can be hurt. I would think that there would be denial, followed quickly by outrage and an emotional reaction such as you describe.”
“Yes, you would think that would be the case,” said Patrick, sniffing back tears and wiping his nose carefully with a tissue. “But their lack of compassion… it’s so different. They’ll simply file the information from that attack as flawed, study it, and attempt to come up with a solution to solve the problem the next time similar conditions present themselves.”
“Very efficient, almost computer-like in fact,” commented Karen. “That’s why the Captain chose not to stick around… we would eventually have been out-maneuvered.”
“Ah, but that’s the continuing problem they face,” Patrick chuckled. “Beings who respond to emotions do not react predictably. That’s been the toughest challenge the Triumvirate faces so far, trying to anticipate how all of you will react when forcibly confronted. The more of you there are, the less chance they have to predict the outcomes of those encounters. That’s why they worked secretly, behind the scenes, and attacked using stealth!”
“So the next logical move they would likely choose…” This time it was she who looked down at the floor and had to fight back tears, remembering those images they had all watched of the nuclear fires burning on Earth’s surface.
“That’s right,” he said. “Their choice was to avoid the confrontations and the unpredictability humanity offers altogether. Move by stealth, move by surprise, and before Earth’s nations even realized they were under attack… it’s all over and our dominance is guaranteed. I’m not surprised at all that nuclear war moved to the top of their priorities.”
“Even if they don’t already, eventually the Triumvirate will see those of you who don’t completely obey as enemies, too.” Karen said softly. “And if people are led off and executed as you say, then to a point they already are treating you as adversaries.”
“We know it, and we have no choice but to obey. I was trained for several years and one of three separate cloning lines that infiltrated your society. Our central command knew that you were working on an enhanced Point-to-Point transit drive and they wanted to know more about it. That was my primary mission – to penetrate your command hierarchy and computer systems while stationed on the moon and capture the new technology. Our own culture has advanced at a tremendous rate, driven by slave labor capable of manufacturing heavy equipment like that warship. They wanted to merge your new technology with our own.” He began crying again. “Tell your Captain not to go back there… ever. You can’t stop them.”
“We can’t stop them yet,” Karen corrected him. “The data you’ve helped me collect has been very useful, and the Captain and I are very grateful for that.”
“I’m not a mindless, pre-programmed soldier any longer,” he said, wiping his eyes again. “This time the emotion isn’t shutting off… none of it. The remorse, the anguish of having to sit by helplessly while this unfolded, the guilty knowledge that that man… my neighbor… He was right about who I am and what the legacy of my people will become.”
“Do you think that you’re the only ones who know how to kill?” she asked. “Every society, every new culture in the history of the human race has started out by conquering other civilizations at one time or another,” she said. “Raid the castle and put everyone to the sword… that’s how it works until you either mature as a civilization and begin to learn that other peaceful options are possible or someone conquers you.”
“Now that your nations on Earth have fallen, our Triumvirate will do whatever it has to do to insure its own permanent dominance,” Patrick stated firmly. “Whatever it takes.”
“Sooner or later at least one of you will try and stop them,” she replied. “Then what? A new war begins… against the new, cloned lines of humans that it worked to create? It puts itself back at square one?” The thought seriously distressed her, and she brushed back a wave of graying hair. “So far the superior society your culture has tried to create has simply created a more efficient way of killing people faster than the old methods of using swords, spears and arrows.”
“So why show me mercy?” he asked. “There have to be a lot of people on this ship who wouldn’t lose a minute of sleep if the Captain had me executed.”
“Three reasons,” decided Karen. “First and foremost our culture does not execute living beings without first determining whether they personally are guilty of a capital crime. So far we have chosen to suspend the option for that trial because keeping you alive gives us the option to explore reasons two and three.” She carefully scribbled some quick notes on her legal pad. “The second reason is that this ‘Brotherhood’ and its line of clones is virtually unknown to us, so we naturally need to learn as much about you and your capabilities as possible. It’s quite probable that if enough of us survived we may choose to someday launch a counterattack.”
“I hope you do,” he said. “Murder is against God’s commandments… they… we… simply chose to ignore that particular one. And the Triumvirate regularly chooses to ignore God altogether.”
“Three,” she continued. “If there is ever to be a chance for peace between our people and yours it must begin with someone like you. I would imagine that you’re going to get a few more bumps and bruises before this is over but your willingnes
s to cooperate and contribute positively to our efforts signals to the Captain that it’s worth his while to offer you the chance to redeem yourself. I just hope that you understand that your access to the critical areas of this ship and its resources must remain limited until we can absolutely guarantee that any possibility of Brotherhood brainwashing has been completely purged from your mind.”
“Your people and this ship have purged me,” he countered, actually smiling for the first time in a long while. “The transceivers like the one found in my quarters can stay on permanently or upload and download data in quick bursts as other Brotherhood agents passed by the moon aboard other space-going ships. The shorter transmissions, if detected, are carefully encrypted and designed to appear as random static. That connection which kept me informed, up to date and obedient was terminated the instant we left our home galaxy.” He shrugged. “A lifetime of training stuck with me for a while, like the urge to sabotage the ship by building a bomb. But once those hallucinations began they became so powerfully strong that I was overwhelmed with the emotions that had previously been repressed, and it didn’t take long before I realized my actions were now being driven by a feeling of revenge instead of a preconditioned obligation to obey. That was when your marines caught up to me, in the midst of my emotional confusion.”
“With emotional feelings you have options,” she said, smiling back at him. “You can give in to them and allow them to control your behavior…”
“Or not give in to them…” he decided, looking elatedly at her.
Dr. Simmons carefully took a few minutes to add to the notes she had been writing down as they talked. “Eventually I’m going to have you begin sessions with my colleague on board, Dr. Hagen,” she said. “He’s a trained psychiatrist, skilled in the psychology of the human mind and he will be able to help you deal with those emotions that continue to be triggered by things that you cannot go back and change. It will take time, but you’ll learn to live with them.”
The Pathfinder Project Page 26
