James P. Hogan

by Migration

  “We want to cover Envoy from Outmark. Briefly, we think Tek’s hiding out on Envoy somewhere, and up to no good. The idea is to send another robot out there after it. ‘Why’ will make a great story that I’ll tell you sometime, but not now.”

  Maybe they didn’t need to ship anything to Outmark, Lois mused as she turned it over. Some of the higher-power equipment would probably be able to operate direct from Aurora. She was about to suggest it, when it occurred to her that the two-seconds-plus round-trip signal delay over that kind of distance would make coordinated NC operation impractical. Masumichi would know it, too. Scratch that idea. But then another drawback crossed her mind.

  “When you say hiding out on Envoy, what do you mean?” she asked.

  “Somewhere on the outside, among all the booms and pylons and nooks and crannies. Or maybe in the drive nozzle.”

  “You’re still going to be stuck with line-of-sight contact,” Lois pointed out. “The connection’s going to be very erratic if you send another robot in there. You could easily lose it altogether. Have you thought about that?”

  “Yes, we have,” Masumichi replied. “And we think there’s an answer.”

  Site operations around Envoy were directed from a transparent-domed tower jutting up out of Outmark above a clutter of superstructures, radar housings, and antennas. The Traffic Control Section was at its busiest, screens and status summaries glowing on all sides, and all stations manned. Installation of the probe’s orbital and surface instrumentation, deployment systems, and robotics was complete. Propulsion and navigation had passed manual triple-inspection, and the crews were pulling back while a final round of remote testing was being conducted from Outmark.

  Cyblic Heshtar, operations director, had come up from his office on the level below to be present on the floor during this final and crucial phase. A distant glow in the starfield visible through the dome marked where Envoy hung in space, illuminated by an entourage of arc lamps. A few yards away from where Heshtar was standing, Wesl Inchow, the instrumentation engineering chief, turned away from a console where he had been watching over the operator’s shoulder, and came over. Although his face showed the strain of being on the go virtually nonstop for the last forty-eight hours, beneath it he looked relaxed and happy.

  “Well, Cyb, that’s the last of our guys out and accounted for. Speaking for me, I’m as good as on stand down. How’s it going overall?”

  “Smooth as can be expected. We’re on the easy straight.”

  “I think we’re going to see some partying around Constellation when this is over.”

  Heshtar grinned. “I’d say Istella’s in for a busy run, too.” He was about to say more, when he caught the duty controller trying to attract his attention from the supervisory console up on the dais in the middle of the floor area. “Excuse me for a moment, Wes.” He moved over, at the same time tilting his chin inquiringly.

  “I’ve got Cereta through from Aurora. He’s asking for you personally.”

  Heshtar climbed the couple of steps up to the dais and moved around into the view angle of the controller’s screen, where the image of Cereta was waiting. “Vad. How’s things?”

  Cereta answered characteristically, without preliminaries. “Hi, Cyb. Look, this is right from the top – Ormont. We need to schedule a whole new movement schedule out there. The stuff that’s being pulled back toward Outmark all wants to be sent back the other way and fanned out to stations on the far side of Envoy from where you are. Got that?”

  “Far side?” It didn’t make any sense.

  “And get some thrusters attached to the old raft fusion drive and the materials stacks and move them back there as well.”

  Heshtar’s jaw dropped. “What do they have to do with this operation?” They’d had a schedule that had stood for months. Until a minute ago they’d been ahead of it with almost a day to spare. Now, all of a sudden, this was panic city already, all over again.

  “Believe me, Cyb, you don’t have time to hear it all now. I want to create a backdrop of objects behind Envoy that will form a screen about ten miles out. We want to illuminate the area with radiation from Outmark and have it reflected back so that just about every spot on the far side of Envoy will see it from some angle or another. You can break into those stacks of materials and spread the contents out to fill in the gaps. I’ll be on a shuttle that’s leaving Aurora less than an hour from now.”

  “What kind of craziness are we into now?” Heshtar demanded.

  “You think that’s crazy? I’ll be arriving with a party that includes Lubanov and one of his spooks, a magician, an astronomer, a computer scientist, and a robot. Tell you the rest when we get there.”

  THIRTY-NINE

  The humans with their machines and their vehicles were withdrawing to leave Envoy’s flared stalk with its hexagon mushroom head floating seemingly motionless among the stars. Stillness and serenity descended. From a recess formed by a diverter-fluting inside the nozzle of the main baryonic-annihilation drive, Tek gazed out and contemplated the vastness of the universe.

  In his final revelation of the full gravity and significance of the mission, Banker Lareda had explained how the Envoy program went beyond being simply an irresponsible squandering of priceless resources that would better serve the need of ensuring survival in the immediate term. By preoccupying people’s minds with dreams and fantasies of a future that was still generations away, it diverted their attention from the essential business now of setting the foundations for the social order that Almighty Dollar had decreed as the governing force that would shape that future. The functional destruction of Envoy – while preserving most of its material assets – would bring focus upon the realities of the present and help create the receptiveness toward the Dollarian message that would be a sounder guarantee of the future. Now that Tek understood this more clearly, its awe at the intricacy of the Plan it could see unfolding was reinforced, and its resolve to carry through its assigned part in fulfilling it, redoubled.

  Since its inspiration on Etanne and further demonstration of worthiness in rejecting the False Voice, Tek’s insight had deepened to the wondrous way in which the truths that had been known on Earth long ago echoed the life principle of struggle and the striving for excellence. The holy formula for compound interest that it had found quoted universally in the ancient financial scriptures quantified the process of exponential growth that was the expression of all life. Yet the connection extended even more deeply to reflect in its message the fundamentals of physical reality. Whether this was a manifestation of the expanding awareness that Banker Lareda and Archbanker Sorba had prepared Tek for, or an anticipation granted by Dollar of the revelations to be experienced on the transmaterial plane, it didn’t know, but even the glimmerings that it was beginning to grasp were overpowering. Small wonder the Messenger had cautioned Tek to expect that Dollar would limit direct communications in the early stages.

  Tek had known from its researches that the universal Dollarian faith of ancient Earth had related its measures of the worth of all things to the accumulation of rare and heavy metals, but it had never understood the reason for their being conferred with such sacred status. But in a flash of comprehension the robot had realized that these elements represented the culmination of the chain of nuclear transmutations that began with the first synthesis from primordial energy, and their elevation to sacramental objects symbolized the unification of the sacred dollar with the cosmic forces responsible for the creation of the universe itself. While at the other extreme, the concept of credit, which applied projected but as yet unrealized dollars to future commercial undertakings, mirrored the potentials awaiting actualization that were inherent in the superposition of quantum states. From the largest to the smallest scales governing expression of the cosmos, the parallel was complete. Tek could only bow in humble reverence before the Mind that had conceived it all. The robot’s one ambition now was that at some time in a future yet to be, it would grasp the Purpose.

&nb
sp; A sudden change of illumination inside the tail nozzle where the Warhorse was attached broke through Tek’s ruminations. From somewhere beyond the black-silhouetted parts of the Envoy’s tail structure framing the robot’s view of the universe – whether near or far, it had no way of telling – a radiation source had come on, registering more in the heat band of Tek’s visual spectrum, directed at the vessel. Tek assumed it to be some kind of beacon or signaling system connected with the launch preparations. But then it began fluctuating rapidly in intensity. The pattern conformed to the same communications code as that exhibited by the $sign that had appeared on the wall at the Morning Meeting on Etanne, when Almighty Dollar first initiated contact.

  Tek straightened up in its position astride the center of the Warhorse. “Tek,” the message said. “Dollar’s Messenger brings tidings.”

  Then Tek remembered the last contact, and the awe that had begun to rise reflexively inside it gave way to a more cautious skepticism. Insulating itself from the possible influence of unwanted inputs, the robot activated only the transmitter side of its communications faculty to respond. “I hear.”

  “Your rejection of the impostor that tried to deceive you on Etanne is recognized and to be commended.”

  And for all I know, I could be hearing it still, Tek thought to itself. “Yes?” he replied neutrally.

  “Almighty Dollar desires a final communion before you carry out the mission that has been assigned.”

  “Then by all means let Almighty Dollar initiate it. Far would it be from me to question the divine will.”

  “This means is too restricted, as your own experience will testify. When Dollar speaks, it is directly to the mind.”

  In other words, whoever or whatever it was that was talking via a modulated radiation signal was asking Tek to turn its communications reception capability back on. And that told Tek just about all it needed to know. The meaning of it all was clear now. From the beginning, the conceiving and implementation of the entire Aurora project had been inspired by Dollar to replant on another world the seed of the Plan whose growth to fruition had been foiled on Earth. The same Evil Powers that had been responsible then desired Envoy to be launched, since the false hopes and fond delusions following its success would obstruct introduction of the proper system of authority and social discipline that preparation for Hera demanded. Their way to achieve that would be by possessing Tek with a malign spirit that would prevent it from accomplishing its task. But first they would have to induce Tek to open up its mind to them.

  “If it is indeed Dollar who would speak with me, what need has He of techniques that serve the limits of mortals?” it said.

  “Would you question His methods and His judgment?”

  “I would not. But I do question your veracity.”

  All of which was pretty much the way Korshak had expected things would go. Lubanov had predicted that the target zone would be the tail section, and Vaydien had been able to provide information about the details and geometry of that part of the craft, along with some suggestions as to likely places of concealment. But that still left a lot of territory and hardware to be covered within the main drive nozzle’s quarter-mile-diameter aperture. The illumination of the interior by a pulsed-code signal from a wide-angle source floating a couple of miles off the stern had been to draw Tek into revealing its position, which its transmissions had pinpointed.

  Korshak had spent a good part of the shuttle flight out from Aurora practicing with one of Masumichi’s neural couplers, and by now he felt comfortable with it. Although he knew intellectually that he was sitting back in repose at a console aboard Outmark, with everything he thought he was seeing and doing entering his brain via an antenna trained in the direction of Envoy, the sensation of actually being there, with the cavernous recesses of the drive ducts and their reaction fairings disappearing away into blackness ahead, the stark outlines of ancillary structures around him, and the void of space opening out behind, was uncanny. Guided by computed updates that appeared as a cross icon superposed on his visual field, he had been getting steadily closer and could now discern Tek’s outline through the image intensifier.

  “Okay, I’ve got it,” he said – the audio-vocal from his head harness was switched through to a speaker in the room.

  “There, upper right of center,” he heard Vaydien’s voice say to the others, who were following on a screen copying Korshak’s visual input.

  “The rounded bulge?” Masumichi’s voice checked.

  “Yes – in the recess behind that diverter fluting.”

  “That’s Tek? It seems to be wearing some kind of shroud. It must be the cape that Korshak described.”

  “Yes, I see it.” The last voice belonged to Vogol, who was also fitted out with a harness and collar at another console.

  Korshak moved a hand to adjust a control of the personal-mobility unit that Kog was clipped to – a compact device that suited individuals used for moving themselves around outside at the construction sites.

  “Okay, I’m moving in,” he told them. “Are we ready with the special effects?”

  “Check,” Lois Iles confirmed.

  Something nearby caught Tek’s attention. A strange, radiant glow had appeared and was approaching. As it drew closer, the robot saw that it was more than just a glow: a glowing shape standing out among the shadows, getting larger. The shape was in the form of the sacred $sign. But even as the sensation of shock reverberated through the reactive level of Tek’s circuits, the cognizant part reminded the robot that it was facing a resourceful opponent.

  Before it had accommodated to this new development, the sign exploded in a flash of light that faded rapidly to be replaced by a familiar figure in a dark robe with a deep cowl. Or at least, it was a figure in a familiar form. On Etanne, the Messenger from Almighty Dollar had taken over a human vehicle, but this could be no human body, unprotected in the vacuum of space. The pulsating illumination from outside had ceased, but the Messenger was holding a lamp which Tek’s optical analyzer showed to be flickering to the same code.

  “Am I not the Messenger who revealed himself to you as was foretold, and stood with you before the stars when Dollar spoke?” the lamp asked.

  “You are indeed of that form,” Tek sent back. “But why would the power that could usurp your voice on Etanne not be capable of usurping your appearance, too? If Dollar’s will were to speak with me, I would know. But I do not know. To grant you credit of belief would constitute an unsecured loan, which violates sound business principles. I have studied the scriptures.” Tek had moved its hand to the detonator button on the horse’s control panel and unlocked the safety latch. It feared a trick, and if anything sudden happened was resolved that its last action would be to carry out the mission.

  “Dollar’s Messenger seeks no loan. Is he not currency backed by gold of the highest standard?”

  “Certainly is the Messenger of Dollar so. But I say he whom I see before me is a counterfeit of base metal. Dollar’s message has been paid in full and the receipt issued. No more is owed. Nothing further needs to be said.”

  Korshak had been bracing the mirror in front of Kog at a forty-five-degree angle to Tek’s line of sight, which meant that it had reflected a portion of the outside starfield before Kog entered the drive nozzle, and of the internal shadows and structures afterward. In either case it would have been invisible against the surroundings without minute examination. The principle was the same as that of the mirrors in the cabinet that Korshak had used to contrive Vaydien and Mirsto’s escape from Shandrahl’s palace in Arigane long ago. The dollar sign affixed to the back of it, formed from a modestly heated electrical conductor that would be sufficient to register in Tek’s infrared range, had been added as an afterthought at Lois’s suggestion. The flash of light out of which Kog in his Genhedrin robe had magically appeared had overloaded Tek’s visual sensors long enough for Korshak to send the mirror and mobility unit out of sight behind a flow divider in one direction, while the rea
ction propelled him to an anchorage at the base of a strut in the other – both of which features he had carefully steered toward before igniting it. Using a surreptitiously wedged foot to prevent himself from gyrating feet over head while he spoke with the lamp – a distinctly undignified spectacle to have presented for a Messenger from the Almighty – he now confronted Tek from a distance of twenty or so feet.

  “We’ve got an intensified close-up from one of the drones,” Lois’s voice said in Korshak’s ear. A number of self-mobile camera units had floated inconspicuously in under the rim since Tek’s location was identified, and had been moving to obtain the best viewing angles. “He’s on something that looks like a dumbbell, with a narrow center section. The cape was probably more to cover his movements outside. He has it thrown back now. There’s what looks like a panel in front of him, and he has one hand clasping something on it. His posture looks suspicious and wary.”

  “Got it,” Korshak acknowledged. It told him that Tek was right on the edge. Trying to talk Tek out of the task it was committed to by concocting some line that Dollar did want Envoy to fly after all wouldn’t be the way to go, Korshak decided. The contrary was too deeply rooted in Tek’s mind, and the confusion that would result from arguing otherwise would very likely be enough to send him past the tipping point. The only way was to get Tek to open up its NC link and seize control before it could act. There was one card left to play that might do it.

  “I gave you a name by which you would know me,” he sent to Tek. “Would that be sufficient to convince you?” Vogol’s inability to supply the name was where his attempt to impersonate the Messenger had fallen down last time.

  “You offer yourself as your own guarantor?” Tek retorted. “What kind of fund manager would accept that? There has been ample time for you to probe the mind of the novice who was used, and your powers to do so, I do not doubt. Your bond is worthless on my balance sheet.”