by Linda Mooney
Very slowly, the lights began to rise, but they weren’t white. They were greenish, as though she was gazing through an ultraviolet scope. The wall was a window, and through the window, a shape.
“Oh, dear God!”
It was a kind of tank. A very large tank filled with some kind of liquid, but Lawn doubted it was water. Maybe a gel.
Suspended inside the clear gel was a woman. She was wearing an air mask over her face, but Lawn could tell she was either asleep or unconscious. The woman was also naked except for wide, ribbonlike wrappings encircling her body.
Lawn blinked. She recognized those wrappings. Deep had worn the same exact mummylike bandages whenever he appeared to her until she’d requested he wear a uniform.
His uniform. Shit, why hadn’t she recognized it before now? Deep wore one of the regimental dress uniforms, which as a scientist with level six clearance, he would own for formal occasions.
The woman within the tank moved her arm. It was barely perceptible, but Lawn noticed it.
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“That’s Dara, isn’t it? Velderman’s ship.”
“Yes.” They were speaking in whispers, as if they feared someone or some piece of equipment overhearing them.
Dara moved again, and her action was enough to have her whole body rotate inside her chamber. When she did, Lawn spotted several tubes attached to the woman’s back.
“How long has she been in there?”
“In stasis? A little more than a month. Right now she’s finalizing her connection with the ship. In another week, her human co-pilot will be indoctrinated, and his DNA will be fed to her.”
Lawn knew exactly what he was talking about. “Why use real people?” she asked. “Didn’t the research into sentient ships not pan out?”
She sensed his dejection. “We tried for years, for decades.
We never could get the level of intelligence we felt was imperative for such a dangerous job.”
“Where did you get the idea for using a psi-enhanced person? Why the secrecy? Why lie to the public and make them believe the ships are artificially intelligent?”
“Because of funding. The Bureau would not fund any more experimental missions. If the Vogt program proved a failure, we were going to be ordered to go back to the two-person sentries, which have been the standard procedure for the past seventy years. And I don’t have to explain to you how that program has fared.”
Lawn nodded, not knowing if the physician noticed or not.
“But why psi enhanced?”
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He snorted softly. “We were at the point where we were grasping at any straws, any possibility that might actually prove feasible.” He took a noisy breath. “And we had Dr.
Mehra.”
Lawn turned to face him. “Dr. Mehra? Deep?”
“It was his suggestion, and it eventually became his project.”
“He became part of his own project?”
“And he hand-picked the other three psi candidates to be integrated into the other Vogt ships.”
Dara moved again. This time she straightened up slightly.
To their surprise, she opened her eyes. A long silence followed as Lawn and the woman exchanged looks.
“You are Lawn.” Dara’s voice sounded relieved as it filtered through the small speakers in front of the window. Lawn moved closer to the wall panel but didn’t touch it.
“Yes. How did you know?”
“Go to him.” The woman’s eyes slanted over to Dr. Plegg, then back to her. “Go to him.”
“I am.” Lawn started to say more, but Dara closed her eyes and moved away from the window. A touch on her arm drew her attention back to the doctor, who motioned for her to follow him.
“Come. This way.”
“Now where?”
“I’m taking you to where Dr. Mehra is being held. But first there is something else I must show you.”
They walked forward on the catwalk about twenty or thirty feet when Dr. Plegg stopped and made a motion toward the 171
wall. Like the first time, another pale green light came on, illuminating another tank exactly like the one Dara was in.
Except this tank was empty.
Lawn felt a sense of dread snake through her. “That was his tank,” she stated without question.
“Yes.” It was all he needed to say.
She studied the structure as she tried to imagine what it was like for Deep to be inside, where his body remained as weightless as if he was floating in space like she did. What was it like for him when he made love to her? How did he cope with the solitude? How did he exist?
“Dr. Plegg.” She snagged his coat sleeve to detain him for a moment. The physician gave her a patient look. “Why are you trusting me with all this?” Lawn asked. “This is more than I need to know.”
“No. You need to know all of it. Deep wanted it that way.”
“What?”
“He sent specific orders to me, Captain Brune, and Coordinator Millner. He ordered that if you ever requested the truth, to give it to you. All of it.” He laid a hand over hers clutching his sleeve and gave her fingers a little squeeze. “We knew from the beginning of your mission that you and Dr.
Mehra had a unique connection. That’s why I’m praying you’ll be able to help. Come with me. You’ll understand when we get there.”
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Chapter 24
Filed Under “Coma”
She wanted to ask Dr. Plegg what happened to Deep when he blew the ship. She knew there was no way she could fully grasp the whole concept�a real man running a ship, pretending to be the ship.
“Dr. Plegg.” They were away from the sensory deprivation tanks and walking down another narrow slate-paved corridor.
“Dr. Plegg, how were Deep and the others, the ones with the enhanced psi abilities, how were they able to control the Vogt ships? I mean, wouldn’t two real crew members have accomplished the same goal?”
“Technically, our research into granting each ship its own artificially elevated intelligence was what proved to be our cornerstone. Each Vogt took on its own little personality, but it lacked one very crucial component. Emotion.”
Dr. Plegg stopped in the middle of the hallway to give her a wry smile. “You were right, Lawn. Emotion was the key factor. A ship with A.I. can think and react with almost human swiftness, but without the emotional aspect to balance out its reasoning, it cannot always make the correct decision. Dr.
Mehra pointed out that flaw to us, and at the same time provided us with a way to overcome it.” He motioned toward the hallway. “We’re almost there.”
They entered another elevator, which took them up a level. This time when the doors opened, people bustled by. All 173
of them either wore lab coats or a medical uniform, and all of them gave her more than a single glance when they passed her. Lawn ignored their curious stares. She didn’t need to see their antiseptic uniforms, or to smell the sharp tang of disinfectant to know she was in some kind of medical facility.
Several people greeted Dr. Plegg as they walked by. No one questioned the woman who accompanied him although Lawn caught more than one grimace.
They came to a set of double doors where the physician paused. “A small word of warning, Officer Bascomb. We don’t know how deep the psychosis goes. Dr. Mehra doesn’t answer to anyone, or even react to anyone there.”
“But he’s alive?”
Plegg nodded. “That’s all we’re able to ascertain.”
“What about his mental functions?”
“Normal base body functions are level, but anything deeper than that” He shook his head.
“Have any of the other psi-enhanced people come to help?”
“They tried. They say there seems to be some sort of wall blocking them. We’ve assumed it’s some sort of shield he’s erected to protect himself.”
He pushed open one of the double doors and motioned for her to enter first. Lawn slowly walked into the dimly lit roo
m where another tank sat in the middle of the floor. It was similar to the one she’d seen earlier, although much smaller in size.
was inside the container, immersed in what was either gel or other thick substance. His entire face was 174
covered by the oxygen mask. Thin tubes emerging from his back fed nutrients to his body.
Lawn stepped up to the tank and placed a hand on the transparent wall. Her eyes memorized every detail and compared them to the man she’d known onboard the Vogt. In spite of his unshaven appearance, she recognized the dark hair, and the strong chest and arms. He looked noticeably thinner, especially wrapped the way he was like an Egyptian mummy.
“What happened?” she whispered.
A nurse quietly exited the room, leaving her and the doctor alone with Deep.
“We’d been kept abreast of all, or almost all of the activity aboard the ship.”
Lawn turned to give him a curious look. “Did you know about us?”
Plegg nodded. “He had told us from the beginning that he had grown emotionally involved in your welfare. He even went so far as to have his contract renegotiated.”
“Renegotiated?”
“To allow him to contact you once the mission was over.
When it became obvious that the buoy and Vogt were under siege, Dr. Mehra began sending emergency calls back to Earth, describing the full extent of the meteor shower. He also let us know that he feared the hull had been compromised to the point where any attempt to return might be futile, maybe even fatal.”
“So he chose to send me back alone, knowing he couldn’t bring the ship itself.”
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“Correct,” Dr. Plegg conceded. “What none of us understood was how deeply embedded he was in the ship. I don’t think even Dr. Mehra knew how firmly entrenched he was.”
“Like he was locked in and couldn’t get free?”
“Yes. Exactly. He fought it. He fought to release his mind from the ship’s intelligence. If given a little more time, I believe he would have made it. When the ship blew, Dr.
Mehra’s body went into sudden and so far irreversible catatonia.”
“What makes you think I might be able to help?”
“Because Dara and the others all say your image was the one constant and the last image he held onto mentally.” Dr.
Plegg’s voice grew softer. “And your name was the last thing he said before he went into shock.”
Five… four…three…two…one…Lawn!
She pressed her forehead against the warm wall and fought the tears. She couldn’t cry now. She couldn’t break down, not when Deep needed her. Not when others were hoping and maybe praying she might be able to reach him.
Blinking away the fuzziness, Lawn could see his hands floating limply beside his body. Hands she recognized even though they had always been ghostly and intangible. Strong-looking hands.
“Can I touch him?” she asked.
The physician went over to the computer screen recessed into the wall and pulled up a schedule. “He’s due to be withdrawn in an hour. I’ll go ahead and order it done now.”
“Withdrawn?”
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“To change his wrappings, and to check to make sure the tubes aren’t showing any signs of infection at the entry points. You’re welcome to stay. I won’t be gone long.”
The physician left without waiting for her answer. Lawn turned back to the large vat and began to scrutinize it more closely as she slowly walked around it.
He was real. Deep was a real man. And somewhere inside that incredible brain of his, Lawn knew Deep continued to exist. In her heart, she knew he had to be trapped inside.
When he had exploded the ship, he had thrown his own mental shields up to protect himself against the agony he knew would occur when he severed his link with the ship’s intelligence. But because he had been distracted by his worry over her welfare, he had miscalculated the extent the effect of the blast would have on his connection.
She pressed her malformed cheek against the container and closed her eyes.
Close your eyes.
Actually, there is a way. Close your eyes, Lawn.
Close your eyes, Lawn. Give me a chance.
Close your eyes, Lawn, and dream.
Close your eyes, Lawn.
She shut her eyes and emptied her mind, the same way she had when it had been just her and Deep. The two of them, alone, up in space.
“Deep, I’m here. You know that, don’t you? But you can’t answer me because you’ve put such a strong barrier up, it’s impossible for me to get in, or you to get out. Isn’t that right?”
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She waited. Listened. She heard the soft, steady clicks and beeps of the machines. Squeezing her eyes tighter, Lawn tried to erase the noise in order to concentrate fully on the dark silence inside her mind.
She had a connection with Deep. One that went past the emotional. It was such a powerful connection, the others knew about it.
“I’m here, Deep. I’m alive because of you. Now let me save you.”
Lawn?
She gasped and choked. He was there. He had reached for her with his mind, inside her mind. Deep knew she had come to be with him.
Hull breach is imminent.
Lawn, you have a small tear in your suit.
She clung to the container, wrapping her arms around it as far as she could reach. “I’m a meteorite, Deep,” she murmured. “I’m one of those tiny, tiny, almost invisible micrometeorites, and I’ve penetrated your shields. I’m inside, and I’ve come to rescue you.”
Somewhere in the far corner of her mind, she sensed something moving, like a shadow trying to detach itself from the surrounding darkness. She tried to focus on it, but it was too elusive. It was like it was stuck or glued to a surface it couldn’t free itself from.
Or strapped inside a harness that was jammed and wouldn’t open.
A loud bang startled her. Lawn stepped away from the container as Dr. Plegg and three others entered the room 178
with a rolling examination table. The shelves underneath the table were filled with equipment. One of the medical technicians went to the wall and hit a button. Lawn heard a whirring sound and watched as Deep was lifted from the tank by the mechanical hoist. The machine’s arm gently swung the limp figure around once he cleared the container’s upper lip, and the technician directed the machine to lay the unconscious man on the table. Dr. Plegg guided the body so that it rested on its side.
Lawn remained behind the crew as they did their jobs, hesitant to step up. Dr. Plegg glanced back at her. “It’s all right. You can touch him.”
One of the technicians moved to the side to let her in. She walked forward to see one of Deep’s hands lying on the table, the fingers partially curled inside the thin glove. Deep never touched her with gloved hands. He always removed them first.
The glove rolled up and off like a thin layer of dough.
Lifting his bare hand, Lawn slipped her own underneath it until fingers matched fingers. His hand was naturally larger than hers, and the skin was warm. Pliant. Turning it over, she ran the fingers of her other hand over his palm. She noted his nails were cut short. Lifting it to her face, she pressed the palm to her damaged cheek and stroked his knuckles.
“This is me, Deep,” she murmured, giving his fingers a squeeze. Closing her eyes, she pressed a kiss to his wrist.
“Now can you feel me? Flesh to flesh, without those little mechanical hands and arms that could only send you electronic feedback?”
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She lowered her chin so she could kiss his palm when a thumb crooked. So slight, still it caressed her lower lip. Lawn gasped, knowing she had not imagined it.
Slowly, she raised her eyes to find a hazel gaze staring in her direction, trying to find and lock on her. He wasn’t quite cognizant. Thick, dark lashes kept blinking in an attempt to clear his vision. He knew she was there with himâ��very real and very much alive.
The thumb brushed her
lower lip again, then barely skimmed her upper lip.
“Do they…do they taste as sweet…” He frowned as he struggled to speak while fighting the depths where he had been hiding.
Lawn nodded as she felt his hand trying to cup her face.
She knew what he wanted, what he needed. It was exactly what she had prayed he’d ask for, even when he couldn’t put the words yet to voice. But the image was there. It remained in her mind where he’d placed it, where it shone clear and bright like a rain-washed spring day.
As Deep struggled to reach for her, Lawn bent over and kissed him.
He clutched her as if she was the only bit of solid ground left, and he was about to fall off the edge of the world. He was so weak, but he tried to kiss her back.
An attendant grabbed each of her arms as a third held her unmoving against the examination table. Struggling didn’t help. Lawn could tell Deep was fighting them when the hypo bit into the back of her neck, and she felt the freezing chill of something being pumped into her system.
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The last thing she heard as her body turned to rubber and blackness swallowed her was Dr. Plegg’s voice explaining,
“Congratulations again, but we can’t let the truth about the Vogts get out. I know you promised you wouldn’t say anything, but we simply cannot take that chance. I’m sorry, Officer Bascomb.”
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Chapter 25
Filed Under “Reassignment”
Lawn bundled the coat tighter around herself and glanced up at the gray sky. The forecasters predicted snow tonight and tomorrow. Maybe as much as six inches.
She looked behind her at the ice-filled fountain. The same fountain where she had first spotted Deep, not knowing that at the time, so many months ago, he had planned for her to see him there.
“From the first time I saw you, I followed your progress through the indoctrination and training. I knew you had to become one of the finalists,” he had admitted one night. “I wanted you to be chosen. I needed you to be chosen.”
The chilly wind seemed to blow through her. Getting to her feet, she began pacing around the fountain to keep warm.
