“Unit 98AN-375,” Cray now addressed the Antarean unit, “What is the status of the new weapon under development?”
“It is constructed, and all probabilities have been calculated to a point just below that of pi.”
“Is the weapon usable?”
“Uncertain until tested.”
“Explain your understanding of this weapon,” Cray said.
“The weapon is a cybernetically constructed microvirus that requires space and time to remain effective. It is provoked only upon entering the bloodstream of a Hume female, where it bonds immediately to the hormones estrogen and proestrogen produced by her body. Its effect is to cause immediate and wantonly uneven growth of the estrogen cells so that the entire Hume female’s involuntary nervous system is overwhelmed by conflicting responses and the relaxation of neural inhibitors.”
“Its probable effect then is ...?”
“Complete mental disorganization.”
“Has the microvirus proven to be absorbable into Cult Fast vehicles?”
“If a sufficient number are available, certain areas around the vents will absorb it.”
“Is that sufficient number deployable?”
“Completely. Infection then requires approximately six minutes Sol Rad.”
“And full mental disorganization?”
“Within three more minutes.”
“What is the method of deployment?”
“As soon as a Cult Fast is seen to be approaching, two small containers of the microvirus are deployed. As they approach the Fast, they begin to spin rapidly, disintegrating in the process and releasing their weapon. Since each container is the size of a Hume hand, it should not be picked up by any sensing devices or will be ignored by them. If the containers are shot at and not destroyed completely upon impact, they spin and release their weapon instantly.”
“It should be tried out. Isn’t there a Hume planetology station somewhere just outside our controlled area of this sector?”
“The station is on C-F.214, a small asteroid just outside the systems we control. There are three occupants at present: two Hume females and a ‘Matriarchy-modified’ calculation and logic channel Cyber-unit. Although the station is behind the lines of the Cult Fast blockage of this sector, delivery of the weapon should not be impossible.”
“But won’t the complete mental disorganization of the two Hume females be considered noteworthy by any Cult Hume with whom they might be in contact?” Cray asked.
“Highly probable, if in fact such a contact exists, which seems unlikely from other units’ monitoring of the planetology station. Remember that, unlike the previous weapon, the life of this microvirus is only five hours Sol Rad. Its effects should not continue beyond thirty hours. Therefore, the cause of the two Hume females’ disorganization should be undetectable.”
“Excellent. Test it as soon as the weapon and containers and method of delivery are completed.”
Cray watched the Antarean unit begin to implement the decision.
“Wait one moment. Can a comm. be arranged quickly with the Cyber Committee Delegate upon Hesperia?”
The Antarean unit calculated and reported that it could be done in fourteen minutes Sidereal Time.
“Put it through,” Cray said. “And remain here for the comm.”
While waiting, Cray thought, “The Hesperian Delegate might be a highly emotional, poorly tuned unit with inappropriate loyalties, but perhaps it might have data or even insight into exactly what had been happening lately in the galaxy.”
A great many odd things were happening, according to all the holos that were coming into the Dis-Fortress control center. But what they might mean was not immediately evident, and thus Cray was unable to place them into apt context. Had Cray been a Hume, Cray knew that pleasure would be the apt emotion, since all of the incidents and events seemed to point to a general disintegration of the Matriarchy. But exulting at such early proof of success was not Cray’s style. Even so, it all seemed remarkable.
For example, the business on Deneb XII. Naturally, Cray had expected the Matriarchy to do everything it could to get around and beyond the originally deployed microvirus. But this business of Centaur-Hume interbreeding seemed curious in the extreme, inefficient and ludicrously insufficient at best. Yet the MC had invested a great deal of time, money, and womanpower into effecting it. And continued to do so after the experiment had proven to be a propaganda nightmare. It made little sense to Cray. Unless, of course, it was a smoke screen for some other, much more efficient experiment the MC had devised.
Even if that were so, how much the Hesperians had been able to capitalize from the MC’s Deneb XII debacle was all too obvious. Far less clear was what had occurred after the revelation of Centaur-Hume interbreeding. The riots on Deneb XII itself were somewhat comprehensible, but not those on Benefica, or Trefuss, or Electra, or Eudora – or even on Wicca World itself! Even less comprehensible was the assault upon the Centaurs on those worlds: innocent of what was, after all, the MC’s secret manipulation of their genes.
The Hesperian blockade of the Centaur’s homeworlds which, in effect, provoked the Matriarchy to war, had been totally incomprehensible to Cray. But even more baffling had been the various reactions to that amazing bit of City effrontery.
The Hesperians had ensured that the Matriarchy would arrive upon the scene when it was already a fait accompli – top small a force and too late to do anything much except attack several Hesperian Fasts in the Near Norma Arm Sector 14.
This engagement of a half dozen Cult of the Flowers’ Fasts and a few Hesperian Fasts had electrified holo-viewers on planets across all sectors of the spiral galaxy with its spectacular visuals and sensational Inter. Gal. Network reportage from within the Hesperian vehicles themselves. Words like “Hume courage” and “extraordinary bravery” were bandied about, and the participants in this bizarre display (who surely knew what they were getting into, and certainly had to be acting) appeared to be gaunt-faced with overwhelming emotion, as they faced seemingly impossible decisions: their Fasts rendered helpless and about to implode. One of those Fast captains, a Hume male named Pascale Syzygy had been caught up in the dramatics and had elected to sacrifice his life to ensure the escape of his crew. He had been hailed instantly as a hero and compared to an entire range of political and military Humes of past – and to Cray, more genuine – distinction.
The general Hume response to the death of this one Hume male, Pascale Syzygy – simply because it had happened under such specific, difficult, and well-holo’d circumstances in front of thousands of billions of viewers – was astonishing to Cray 12,000 and the other units of the Dis Control Center. The entire city of Hesperia had gone into instant and complete mourning. Distinguished and aged Quinx councilors had been pulled out of retirement to laud the young Fast captain at great length. Extensive holos of his life and deeds, his family and home life, were produced for instant holo-viewing. Memorial services for Syzygy had been put together, not only in the City and on those resort planets under Hesperian influence, where it might be logically expected, but also – and to Cray’s complete astonishment – spontaneously upon some of the MC’s own most supposedly stable Center Worlds.
Where, furthermore, the news of the blockade of the Centaur worlds had been accompanied by massive celebrations of the populace, dancing in the parks and on the conveyances by thousands of women – at the same time that the MC itself was condemning it in the most severe terms.
After centuries of dealing with Humes, Cray still couldn’t understand how vast movements of their species could be affected by such clearly illogical developments. Perhaps this Hesperian Delegate, this Jon Laks, as he preferred to be called, would explain. Odd name, Cray realized for the first time. Jon lacks what? Being Hume? Was that how the Delegate had selected that name? Or had it come through a previous owner? No matter. It was tinged through and through, as was the unit itself, with cloying Humeity.
No one knew better than Cray and the units
Cray led that Humeity’s decades were numbered. Before the microvirus had first been released, elaborate calculations had been made by the control center to confirm the fact. Its widespread release had been calculated to infect as many women as possible. That accomplished, the Matriarchy could do whatever it wanted – short of the impossible task of finding an antidote – in the way of attempting to solve the problem. The Matriarchy would survive only if it could manage to locate approximately seven million women of childbearing age untouched by the microvirus and somehow or other isolate them where they would never be exposed to it. And those seven million women would have to become breeding machines for the galaxy to retain a 0.999 percent birthrate – the lowest birthrate short of extinction. Which in turn would require a full 500 years Sidereal Time for fulfillment. That would never happen. To Cray’s best knowledge, the MC held scarcely 600,000 such women.
The Hesperians – as usual – had gone about it in a far more logical manner. Given the far smaller size of their population – scarcely 10 million on the city-star itself, and perhaps another half of that on all its resort worlds, Hesperia would need only 40,000 such women to maintain its population. This also would not happen. Unit 5CCB-325 had calculated approximately 5,000 uninfected women on Hesperia. That had been the number of vials of “serum” sent to the City in payment for supplies. At that rate, in 500 years, barely 500,000 births could occur. But that would be enough for the City to continue as a political and economic force for some time.
So the Matriarchy would end. Humeity itself would die out. Cybers would proliferate and dominate. And Hesperia – well, why not retain Hesperia as a sort of living museum of Humeity? A sort of homage to the “builders” and previous “masters,” containing and displaying the best that short-lived yet remarkably accomplished species had managed to achieve. A museum – and also a university. Yes, it was a lovely idea, Cray thought, and, in its logical and calculated way, even a bit Humein.
“Leader Cray, comm. has been made with the Hesperian Delegate,” the Antarean unit announced.
In one second, Jon Laks was on holo.
“Delegate,” Cray began. “This leader unit requires an assessment of the recent events on Deneb XII and in the fourteenth sector of the Near Norma Arm.”
“What do you mean?” Laks asked.
“The leader unit’s wording was clear and precise,” the Antarean unit interrupted. “Answer!”
“What I meant,” Laks said, “was how do you wish an assessment? In what area and for what purpose?”
This Laks unit was operating on all its circuits today, Cray thought. “For your purposes,” Laks went on, “I truly haven’t a clue how to assess any of it. Except for the glaring fact that it all seems to be rather pointedly ignoring your rebellion, doesn’t it?”
Cray detested the Hume ploy of answering a question by asking another question.
“Does it?” Cray thought of playing the same game.
“Naturally! Hesperia is dealing with the Matriarchy only. And, I may add, since you asked me, doing so brilliantly.”
“In Hume political terms,” the Antarean unit qualified. “Which are of only passing, even vestigial, interest, given the parlous future state of all Humes.”
“If you say so,” Laks said. Unlike its previous holo-meeting, this time the delegate unit seemed to be refusing to be provoked. Perhaps it had allowed itself to be fine-tuned since the last holo-meeting, Cray thought. But no, it was a very Humeized unit. Therefore, something must be on its “mind.” Cray decided to try a new tack to discover precisely what.
“As negotiated, the Hesperian supply Fast has left this sector with the serum.”
“Good. Although you should have given it to them, not traded it.” Laks showed a bit of its formerly wayward spirit. “By the way, the Quinx has something which might interest you here and which might prove to be of even more value to you than supplies.”
Laks did have something on its “mind”! It was teasing Cray. “What?”
“In fact, this should very much interest you” Laks said, showing un-Cyber-like pleasure. “I’ve been authorized by the Inner Quinx to offer you two captured Cyber-turncoats. You know, two of those naughty units of yours which disrupted and almost destroyed your underground railroad.
One of them, you may be interested to know, is responsible for the destruction of the Antarean Cybers.”
Cray was aware that Unit 98AN-375 suddenly began to discharge electromagnetic energy from several circuits, although the Antarean unit remained rigid and unmoved in any obvious manner.
“What makes the Quinx believe those particular units would be of interest to us?” Cray asked.
“Don’t you want to know why they did what they did?” Laks asked.
“Obviously, their programming was tampered with.”
“Not the case,” Laks said, and once more seemed Humely smug. “I’ve talked to them. And I think you should hear it from them. But if in fact they were tampered with, it’s even more relevant that you would want them, to see exactly how the tampering was done, and so forestall it from happening to other units on your underground railway. No?”
True enough. But besides the pure logic of that, there remained another, less-logical, more-theoretical concern for Cray: what if whatever had motivated the turncoat units wasn’t merely programming, but in fact was connected somehow to the other Conscious Cyber, the one that so frustrated Cray? Humes, Delphinids, even Bella=Arthropods were moved by ideas, concepts, leaders. Look how many intelligent Cybers had been moved to rebel by Cray and the Confessions of a Machine, which after all was a Humelike manifesto! Could the other Cyber that Cray sensed out there somewhere be like Cray, a charismatic leader, with a yet-unknown agenda that other intelligent Cybers would follow? It was possible. Indeed, given the very existence of the turncoats, it fell closer to being probable. And with any kind of probability at all, it represented the most serious threat to the rebellion to date.
“What does the Quinx want for them?” Cray asked, and sensed the electromagnetic impulses from the Antarean unit rising as though in anticipation. “More serum?”
“I suppose,” Laks said indifferently. “I’ll get back to you. These two are worth little to the Hesperians, you understand. But they may suspect their value to you.”
“The value of the two units remains questionable, but negotiation is possible.”
“Why don’t you hold on a minute Sol Rad., and I’ll see if I scare up someone from the Inner Quinx.”
“The Ophiucan Kell seemed to be a reasonable negotiator.” Cray meant it as high praise.
“I’ll try him then,” Jon Laks said and froze the holo-screen.
During the break, the Antarean unit spoke: “Might this unit be present during the interrogation of the turncoats?”
“That would be most efficient. But only, Unit 98AN-375, if fine-tuning is accomplished directly after this holo-meeting.”
“Yes, naturally. That will be accomplished.”
The holo unfroze. Jon Laks said, “You’re in luck. All they want is another three thousand units of the serum.”
“It’s not luck, Hesperian Delegate. They probably miscounted and have only that many more appropriate women for the serum.”
“Or,” Unit 98AN-375 added, “they’re stockpiling against future infection.”
“If you say so,” Laks said indifferently and began to outline the rules for the exchange.
When the holo was snapped off, Cray turned to the Antarean unit.
“What is your assessment of the situation?”
“Interrogation of the turncoats could prove beneficial.”
“I meant regarding what the Delegate called the Hesperians’ recent brilliant successes against the Matriarchy.”
“Exactly as stated before: of passing, even vestigial interest.”
“Unless they are united against us?”
“Would the Matriarchy then allow supplies to be sent to us?” the Antarean unit asked. “Extremely unlikely
.”
“Unlikely, but not impossible. What is required now is a check on any ‘special projects’ begun by both the Matriarchy and the Quinx Council since the microvirus took effect. My understanding is that the governmental databases of each have already been widely compromised from within by our units.”
“What precisely will this unit be searching for among all of the material expected to flow?”
“Anything at all which matches up between them,” Cray said. “A number. A code. A name. A place. A sequence in the Matriarchy’s secret codes which is repeated in the Hesperians’ secret codes.”
A Hume might have pooh-poohed the idea, said it was overly laborious, or overly cautious – perhaps even paranoiac. Not the Antarean unit.
“It will take some time, but it will be implemented.”
“Your presence is no longer needed,” Cray replied.
When the Antarean unit had left, Cray opened the shield windows of Dis-Fortress to look outside at the night sky swirling with the reddish glow of nebulae and glowing dust clouds that were nurseries for those many dots of bright points which were giant blue stars, young stars, in the terms of creation, infant stars. Somewhere out there was another Cray, coming closer and closer every minute.
Chapter Seven
By the fourth day of their journey into the mountains, they had risen high enough that the eternal canopy over Dryland began to shred around them. It was still daylight, late afternoon, and above the canopy was another layer of cover. But this one was recognizable merely as clouds to Ay’r, P’al, and Alli Clark.
Dryland's End Page 38
