by Neal Asher
At high speed and feet first, Alex hit a section of composite wall. Something cracked in his recently healed leg, but he felt no pain. The composite had dented, absorbing a lot of the force, but he still bounced away from it. Seconds later he snagged a long, tensioned beam strap, managed to hold on, then towed himself down its length. He had pulled himself into a partially walled corridor by the time he felt the vibration of multiple impacts on the structures all around him. The robots had arrived.
Moving as fast as he could in his gecko boots, Alex made it to a manual airlock hatch. He opened it, climbed inside, waited for it to pressurize. The constricted space of the airlock would at least keep some of the bigger robots from following him, and any others would have to come through here just one at a time. Once it had fully pressurized, he opened the lower hatch and dropped through it into an oxygenated corridor. In a slow loping run, he headed for the head of a cageway leading down. He jumped into this and scrambled down through numerous floors to reach a short tubeway. At the end of this lay the door to the transformer room, and Alex couldn’t quite believe he had made it this far. However, with air around him to transmit the din of robot movement, he knew he would be going no further. He opened the door on to a platform overlooking a massive collection of transformers.
Packed within a framework extending twenty metres on each side, and rising from floor to ceiling, stood the transformers themselves. These were smoothly rounded-off cubes of laminated metals and graphine composites wrapped in heavy coils of copper and superconductive wire. Quadrate scaffolding filled the rest of the chamber, supporting pan-pipe clusters of heavy ducts that wove away from these transformers and led into the surrounding walls. Alex scanned the scene, remembering how this room had looked the last time he was here, then he focused on the subsequent additions.
Supported amid the scaffolding was a big squat cylinder of hardware with numerous brand-new optic and power feeds leading both in and out of it. Since it was obviously new, this device had to be something to do with the space drive; therefore it had to be crucial. He leaped directly across to catch hold of a scaffolding pole, then began to tow himself towards it. At that moment the door burst open and, one after another, construction robots sped into the room. Hearing sounds from above, he looked up and saw more fast appearing there. Alex halted just a few metres away from the unknown device and trained his rifle on three interconnected translucent boxes that seemed to be packed with electronics. Then he hesitated.
Once he pulled the trigger, it would be the end for him. At the surface of his mind he dismissed the importance of that, but deep down knew this was why he had hesitated. He now rationalized: would destroying this drive increase or decrease Messina’s chances of survival? Would those aboard the Scourge even care about Messina? Would Messina, who was now probably about as mindless as ex-Committee Delegate Vasiliev, be better off here? These arguments circled in his mind, and his trigger finger remained immobile. Then he looked around to find that all the robots had ceased their approach.
‘So where do we go from here, Alex?’ asked a calm and horribly reasonable-sounding voice over his suit radio. ‘Pull that trigger and I can assure you that Messina will die instantly.’
The words seemed to act like a key turning in his brain, and Alex knew precisely how this must play out. Maybe, in the end, Alexandra had been right about so much. He reached up with a free hand to unclip his VC suit helmet and batted it away from him, then, always ensuring he had a finger on his weapon’s trigger, removed each of his VC suit gauntlets in turn.
‘Bring him to me,’ he said. ‘You bring him to me now.’
They were running out of time and Saul did not need the full extent of his abilities to calculate that if Alex caused damage where he was, then it was unlikely to get fixed before the Scourge arrived. Everything possible must be done to prevent him doing so. The urgency of that was intensified by the fact that, right at this moment, Saul’s sister was running out of her air supply on Mars. Such knowledge had an odd effect on him: his instinctive reaction was to view her as a problem that needed to be solved, damage to reality that needed to repaired. Yet, if he stepped back and coldly analysed the situation, she was an irrelevance. The oddity was that, in this one case, the more human part of him had overridden the greater whole. Perhaps he had been fooling himself about the dehumanizing effect of plugging himself into the machine.
‘Langstrom,’ Saul instructed, directly through the police commander’s fone, ‘go to the Arboretum and have Messina secured, but bring him to the EM field transformer room only when I signal. We want to draw this out as long as possible.’
All the while Alex remained in the transformer room doing no damage, the vortex generator was winding up to speed. If Saul could keep him talking for just half an hour, they would then be able to fire up the drive.
‘What the hell is he doing?’ replied Langstrom. ‘Surely he doesn’t think he can escape with Messina now?’
The man was clearly watching image feeds and therefore up to date on what was happening, Saul realized. Others were watching too, and he could not help but feel like an idiot whose folly had been exposed before a crowd. Why had it taken him this long to understand how dangerous this Alex was, and why, when he apparently had the man trapped, hadn’t he shut down the only possible means of escape?
‘He’s been programmed to protect Messina,’ Saul replied, ‘but is now beset by a mass of contradictions that he’s not mentally prepared for. Seen in his terms, we are an obvious danger to Messina, so he has been working along with those aboard the Scourge to stop us leaving. However, he’s not stupid either, and he’ll realize that those aboard that ship are not necessarily as concerned about Messina’s welfare as they are probably telling him.’
‘That still doesn’t answer my question,’ Langstrom grumped.
‘The plain answer is that he doesn’t know what he’s doing,’ Saul replied. ‘He just doesn’t want Messina to die – or to die himself.’
Saul exited the rim-side endcap of Arcoplex One, entering the train tunnel that led outwards then round the rim towards the docks, but exited it through a personnel access tube heading out to the transformer room. At the same time, he continued watching events through the sensors of the robots currently occupying the transformer room, while also urging a couple of spiderguns over that way. Just a couple of shots from one of those could finish this quickly; however, it was quite evident that Alex had positioned himself very carefully. He would notice if Saul tried to move a spidergun into a position where the shots it fired would not damage the new drive hardware. This situation was sticky, very sticky indeed.
‘Alan, what the hell are you doing?’ Saul had been ignoring all attempts to contact him, but had now allowed this one through.
‘I am going to deal with a bad situation resulting from my lack of attention, Hannah,’ he replied.
‘And get yourself killed?’
‘That was not my intention.’
‘He’ll probably try using you as a hostage to get both himself and Messina off the station,’ she protested. ‘Use your robots to deal with him instead.’
‘Not feasible at the moment, unfortunately, but the longer I can draw this out, the nearer we get to Rhine firing up the drive again. But if I don’t go and negotiate now, this Messina clone could destroy vital hardware and kill our chances of escaping.’
‘You’re sure this isn’t some macho need of yours to step outside your computer world?’
‘That was low, Hannah. I’ll speak to you soon.’
As Saul finally reached the door into the transformer room he remembered the last time he had entered here, with Malden – and how Malden had died under a hail of bullets from Director Smith’s troops. That was not a memory he relished.
He opened the door and stepped inside, two construction robots smoothly sliding out of his way as he walked out on the platform – but not moving too far away. They were ready to interpose themselves between him and Alex should the Messina
clone decide that Saul made a better target than the drive hardware.
‘So you are Alex,’ Saul said.
‘Where’s Messina?’ Alex asked.
This man was a little difficult to read, even though Saul could study in detail every single pore on his face. Certainly he looked scared, and ever so slightly puzzled, but these seemed like a veneer over blankness, like a smile painted on a doll.
‘Messina will be brought here only when or if I am ready to bring him here, Alex,’ said Saul. ‘I’m curious to know what you hope to achieve. I’ve already told you that the moment you pull that trigger he will die.’
The other man suddenly looked very tired as he shook his head.
‘Alexandra was naive, but maybe naivety is a good thing, because it allows you to function without regard for the consequences,’ he said.
‘I assume Alexandra was your partner – the one killed in Messina’s space plane?’ Human contact now? Saul reached up, unclipped his suit helmet and removed it, trying thus to bridge the emotional gap.
‘She was. She possessed a very black-and-white view of reality that I envy now.’
‘Surely this situation is, though with some complications, also black and white?’
Alex just stared at him for a moment, then he said, ‘The fact that your robots ceased their approach, and that you yourself are here now, tells me I am pointing this weapon at something vital. So here’s what I want: I want you to withdraw all the robots from this room, then I want you to come over here next to me. You will be my hostage, and together we will go to the Chairman’s space plane, where you will instruct your staff to bring the Chairman. There we will arrange a hostage exchange, and I will depart with him safely.’
On the face of it, this seemed a viable option for such a thoroughly programmed Messina clone to achieve, but already Saul was beginning to realize that this man was a bit deeper than that. He decided to test him.
‘So you can then depart and be picked up by the Scourge,’ he suggested.
Alex shook his head. ‘That would have been Alexandra’s expectation. She would have bargained with you similarly. She would have expected to be picked up by the Scourge, but found herself ignored.’
‘And your own expectation?’
‘I will use the cryogenic suspension pods on board,’ he said, ‘and at some time in the future the plane will be picked up, maybe in better times.’
‘So you know about them,’ remarked Saul.
‘I know about them,’ Alex agreed.
‘What makes you think I won’t destroy that plane the moment it is clear of this station?’ Saul asked.
‘Because I will release you. Because you gain no advantage by using up energy or projectiles to kill me, especially when such resources might be better employed in getting this drive up to speed or defending this station against the Scourge.’
‘That seems . . . reasonable.’
‘Then send your robots away. Send away that spidergun I see lurking in the corridor behind you.’
Saul glanced back at the spidergun, then, careful to telegraph his moves, gently propelled himself from the platform towards Alex, seeking to get closer. As soon as he caught hold of the scaffolding, he slowly raised a hand in a gesture of dismissal. The robots began to withdraw and the spidergun in the corridor retreated out of sight, as Saul towed himself even closer. Then he spoke out loud, ‘Langstrom, bring Messina to his space plane,’ though the words never actually reached Langstrom. However this turned out, Saul’s main aim was to get that weapon pointed away from the hardware.
‘That’s close enough,’ said Alex.
Absolutely right, had Saul possessed merely human reactions and human speed. Even at that moment he was consciously controlling every aspect of his body, oxygenating his blood, ensuring nutrients were in place, increasing his heart rate and adrenalin levels and calculating the precise moves he must make. All he needed now was for Alex to turn that weapon towards him.
‘You know that I was made almost incapable of being disloyal to the Chairman,’ said Alex. ‘I was indoctrinated to protect him at all costs, including that of my life. However, I have been alive a long time for one of our kind, and I have also been a long time away from reprogramming.’
Why was he saying this?
Alex continued, ‘Even when I came here, I was still functioning on that basis but only now have I understood the futility of my position. I cannot any longer save the Chairman, because he no longer exists. He is now no more what he used to be than that creature that entered my hydroponics unit is still Delegate Vasiliev. The purpose of my existence is over.’
Something was going badly wrong and just for a second Saul could not understand what it was. He needed to slow this down, calm it.
‘So what is it you want, Alex?’
‘I’m not as trusting as Alexandra was. She would have been easy for you to manipulate, and would have died the moment she left this room. I, however, know I will not be leaving this room alive.’
Saul understood in that instant, and realized he should have guessed it the moment he saw Alex had removed his space helmet and gauntlets. The purpose for which Alex had been shaped was gone, but human motives like vengeance remained. A sheer bloody-minded and suicidal response could therefore not be overruled. Saul launched himself at the man just as the weapon crackled, chunks of plastic, silicon and optics zinging away as its bullets turned the control circuits to ruin.
Forty bullets fired . . .
The rifle swung up towards Saul even as his right hand speared at Alex’s throat. Saul pulled back, turned, and clamped his elbow down to trap the weapon’s barrel against his body. Alex tried to pull it free but Saul reached down, driving a thumb against the man’s trigger finger. The weapon crackled against his side, a searing sensation there, but the bullets impacting somewhere behind. The heel of a hand came up blindingly fast, hammering into Saul’s nose. Levering against the rifle he turned completely, bringing his elbow round and smashing it into the side of Alex’s head. The man turned away to avoid that, catching only part of the blow and spinning further to bring the rifle down like a club. It struck Saul’s upper arm, but without much force since by then Alex had released it, after realizing it was merely a hindrance to close-quarters combat.
Tight, Saul understood. Very tight.
Saul was fast, but so was this Alex. Neither of them telegraphed blows and at this range neither of them could get their blocks into place fast enough. Constricted by the surrounding scaffolding, there was also little room for them to separate. They ended up face to face, short powerful karate punches blurring between them as each tried to drive the other into a bad position.
Stop just responding. Calculate.
Time seemed to slow down as Saul’s thought processes speeded up. He could see that, though they were both managing to deliver solid blows, they weren’t delivering them with maximum effect – the padding and armour in their suits absorbing most of the impact. Saul altered the parameters for himself. Pull back on next strike, the block will drive it into the upper chest: pause – now. His next punch hit a floating rib, between bands of armour, and on the one after that, as Alex shifted his head aside to avoid it, Saul opened out a thumb. His fist grazed along Alex’s temple, but the thumb went straight into his eye. Weakening now, and a loss of depth perception. Saul turned as if evading yet another blow, but raised his leg and slammed his knee into his opponent’s thigh, behind the front pad of armour.
Alex’s next straight-fingered jab aimed at the point just below Saul’s ear missed entirely, and now it was all over. As he drove blow after blow into his opponent’s body, Saul also gazed through the senses of a spidergun, now back in range, as it etched out numerous target points. Other robots were returning to the room too. Alex meanwhile lowered his arms and Saul realized the other man was now waiting to die. Surely this was the next logical step: remove this impediment and then try to repair the damage here. But there was an objection partly within himself and partly
distributed amidst all of his mind and those things fashioned by it.
Alex drifted backwards with his eyes closed, but as nothing happened he opened them. He spat blood, then snarled, ‘You must kill me!’
‘An interesting problem,’ whispered a voice in Saul’s mind.
‘What would you suggest?’ Saul asked without speaking.
‘Reprogramming by reality is already underway,’ replied Paul, now actually entering the transformer room. ‘I suggest confrontation followed by a naturalistic approach. Direct intervention is not necessary.’
‘Why?’ Saul asked out loud.
The proctor sailed across from the platform and landed on the scaffolding. It reached in with one long arm and snared Alex by his spacesuit, dragging him out like a rabbit out of a burrow.
‘When it is not necessary to kill,’ said Paul, ‘it is not necessary to kill.’
‘Take him, then,’ said Saul dismissively. Then he spoke directly to Langstrom’s fone: ‘You can forget about Messina now – we’ve got bigger problems.’ Then he turned to inspect the damage.
18
Suffer the Children
Before the twentieth century, increasing mechanization in industry was only seen as a boon by industry chiefs. Less outlay on labour of course meant more profit, and the only ones complaining were Luddites and could be ignored. In the twenty-first century, industries increasingly fell under the control of the state, while continuing mechanization and ‘social justice’ created an ever-growing underclass of the unemployed and unemployable. This class was generally kept under control by the media bread and circuses of the time, but the problems started with the growth in the number of people being displaced by increasingly ‘expert’ mechanization – people less easy to control. To manage this, the political classes chose to find employment for them, chose to bring them into the fold by creating a huge and pointless bureaucracy, but even that had its limits. It soon became evident that not all could be thus employed. It soon became evident that, in a population boom, too many educated people were available. The answer was simple: cripple education systems, allow the health and social professionals more of a free hand with the pacifying drugs, start damaging people even when they are children and ensure more of them end up in the more easily controlled underclass. However, even this has proved only a temporary solution, and it is certain that more drastic measures will need to be applied.
