Dryland's End

by Felice Picano

“I’ll comm. Lord Tedesco from here to arrange it all,” Mart said. “Minister Etalka should arrange the Groombridge net so that it’s ready for their arrival. We’ll be arriving back there, too. With the wounded. They’ve got to be seen to, and there’s no sense in us staying here to be picked off by Cyber Fasts on a hunt-and-kill spree.”

  “You can’t bring the wounded back to Groombridge,” Wicca was quick to say, seeing one area where She could retain control.

  “Why not?”

  “It’ll leak out in a minute all over the galaxy that ... that ...”

  “That Admiral Thol was defeated at Erebus,” Lill said the words the Matriarch couldn’t speak.

  “Would you prefer us to have the wounded arrive at Melisande, and have panic on the conveyances and in the parks?” Mart asked.

  “No! Not Melisande, of all places!”

  “Then please prepare Groombridge med. facilities for their arrival. That should prepare them for what may come their way later on. We’re on our way,” he concluded.

  “Wait!” Wicca tried one last gambit. “What about some smaller med. station? One a bit more off the beaten track?”

  “You don’t seem to understand, Ma’am,” Mart tried again to explain. “Publicity and leaks and saving face and keeping secrets from the population – all that’s completely irrelevant now. We’ve got to prepare to meet the Cybers. All our concentration and efforts must be directed to that coming battle. We can’t be distracted by trifles.”

  “Yes, I understand that, Lord Kell, but –”

  “What you can do is to put Vice Admiral Lill’s holoed explanation of the new Cyber-virus on every Inter. Gal. Comm. you can line up. That should help generate support from the population. That’s what we need now: a sense that every Hume is behind our efforts. I’ll answer for the Quinx and the Orion Spur Federation’s public support. That should help quell any of the MC’s internal critics.”

  Mart signaled for the holo to snap off while Wicca Eighth was still trying to get a word in.

  “Fast,” he said, “Comm. Kars Tedesco at Hesperia. And don’t dawdle.” Lill was staring at him with a look on her face he’d never seen before. “Yes? What is it?” Mart asked.

  “Now I’m beginning to be afraid,” she said.

  “Because now we have to fight the Cybers?”

  “No. Not that.”

  And when she didn’t continue, he said, “Because the Matriarchy’s life depends on its males, its second-class citizens! Is that it, Lill? And you’re afraid we’ll fail?”

  “Not me. I’m a soldier, Mart. I believe in winning, not matter what or who has to be utilized.”

  The Fast began reporting that it had made the comm. with Hesperia and that “Black Kars” Tedesco was waiting.

  Mart brushed it aside for the moment. He still had something to clear up with Lill.

  “What then?” he asked.

  “She’s terrified – Wicca Eighth’s terrified!”

  “She should terrified, Lill. No matter which of us, males or Cybers, wins this coming battle of Groombridge, Wicca Eighth has already lost.”

  “Reports coming in all say the same thing: the Matriarchy has abandoned the pioneer worlds in this sector.”

  “Be specific, Unit 6BVE-371” Cray insisted. Why was it that Cray always had to ask – almost to beg – for accuracy, for details, from this Vega-constructed unit?

  “The most recent reports were from Lacaille 88914 and from Kruger Plus Nine Degrees, 4-546. But others have come in from Teng’s Star, Thetis, Kalmaria, Muscans Epsilon, and Giclas 78-89.”

  That was better. Cray could now get the sweep of the report. “Well? What do the reports say?”

  “The MC appears to have abandoned the so-called pioneer worlds in orbit around those stars,” Unit 6BVE-371 reported.

  “Particularize, Unit 6BVE-371! Have they abandoned their stations? Only the military settlements? The towns? The young? What?”

  “Everything, Leader! Everyone. Or, rather, almost everyone. On Planet Memnon of the Pyxis Lambda system, one aged, inebriated female Hume was discovered. Her memory was severely impaired by large amounts of Soma-Stelezine, but she was the only Hume in the town. All the others had been evacuated. It was the same on the other planets and inhabited satellites.”

  “Did any unit on the outward team think to search the outlying areas of the towns for evacuees?” Cray asked.

  “Searches were instituted, and they continue. So far, even the most secluded areas appear to have been evacuated.”

  “Inter. Gal. News travels fast!” Cray allowed the joke to go unremarked – certainly unappreciated – by the Vegan unit. “That’s most satisfactory,” Cray added. “Humes left behind would only complicate matters. We now have the sector under control – or at least I suppose we do. Have there been any encounters with MC Fasts?”

  “Two, Leader. One was discovered straying near LV Ceti, but it appeared to have been from the original Fleet before it attacked Erebus. Its Hume female crew seemed mentally disorganized and persisted in specific delusions. The Fast’s weapons were rendered harmless by those units which boarded, and the Fast was allowed to wander on its way. A second Fast apparently entered the area around Muscans by happenstance and joined two of our Fasts in battle. It was forced to implode with no survivors.”

  “Good. Secure the sector as per plan,” Cray said and waved the Vegan unit out of the Control Center.

  As per plan. It had all gone as per plan, and now the rebellion controlled the entire wedge-shaped tip of this sector. The new virus weapon proved to have been effective – and furthermore to have provoked the more aggressive female Humes into launching the foredoomed attack. Again as per plan. Now the rebellion would have all the space it needed to expand, and many of the resources that would have cost bitter fights with great loss of the best units. Better than planned. That worried Cray.

  “Unit 6BVE-371, comm. all the Control Center units. A meeting is required now.”

  A few minutes later Sol Rad., all but three of Cray’s most intelligent, knowledgeable, and trusted units were in full comm. Two of them were too far away for the instant communication Cray required – on military Fasts at key points of the sector. When Cray asked about the third, Unit 98AN-375, it was explained that the Antarean unit was still interrogating the turncoat units that had been traded by Hesperia for serum.

  In all the activity, Cray hadn’t so much forgotten about the interrogation as not thought it sufficiently important. Now Cray wondered why the Antarean unit was taking so long, and what it had discovered. An update was needed.

  The units gathered and Cray outlined the situation as it now stood, twenty-six hours Sidereal Time, following the defeat of the MC Fleet at Erebus. Not one of the trusted units appeared to comprehend the source of Cray’s anxiety.

  “Following such a defeat,” Unit 5CCB-325 comm.ed, “it is perfectly logical for those under the Matriarchy’s protection to no longer feel protected and to evacuate.”

  That logic was precisely the source of Cray’s anxiety: Humes seldom acted in so logical a fashion.

  “Even so,” Unit 5CCB-325 remarked, “given the size and scope of the defeat, and its wide dissemination via Inter. Gal. News, even the most illogical Hume is bound to understand the consequences.”

  “Also, Leader,” Unit LYR2-389 said, “we must understand the strong aspect of survival instinct within the Hume. This instinct often acts more effectively than logic circuits in such crises.”

  Cray recalled that this Lyran unit had been “extended” just before it had joined the rebellion – its new circuits designed to allow it to operate as a fully accredited Hume Psych-Counselor.

  “What about the new virus weapon?” Cray asked Unit 5CCB-325. “Has it been discovered?”

  “Yes, quite early on,” the unit responded. “Apparently a research Fast was in the area during the Erebus confrontation. The effects of the virus appear to be known on a wide scale throughout the Matriarchy.”

  “Meanin
g that the advantage of surprise is gone,” Cray said.

  “Surprise only, Leader. Given the virus’s formulation, it will take months Sol Rad. to discover its antidote.”

  “Meanwhile, can’t MC scientists find a way around it?”

  “Not completely,” the “extended” Lyran unit said. “Because the hormone estrogen is so completely tied to the Hume female’s voluntary and involuntary nervous systems, the effects of the virus differ with every Hume female our virus attacks. The symptoms cover such a wide range that the preadministration of sedation, or conversely of antidepressants, will only aid a small percentage. And it cannot be known which Hume female will react in what manner until stricken.” The unit spoke with almost a sense of accomplishment. Its own role in the development of the new weapon was now clear.

  Cray continued to receive various assurances from the Control Center units, until it was evident that they couldn’t understand the nagging itch of discomfort Cray sensed. Cray suspected it was too Humely sublime a feeling for them. Somewhat irritated, Cray dismissed them to their work.

  The Antarean unit had selected a small chamber deep within the fortress’s under-surface area to carry out its interrogation of the turncoat Cybers, and Cray was even more annoyed by this apparent hangover from Hume psychology, with its history of doing terrible harm to others of its species in the darkest and most hidden recesses. Cray knew it to be practically logical, yet it spoke hauntingly of the terrible effluvia of some of the more unconscious aspects of Hume life that had been inculcated into all intelligent Cybers by their manufacturers – and which might never be erased completely. Until it all was erased, Cybers could never consider themselves anything but automata. Cray had stressed that in the Confessions, and while Cray possessed far more of this effluvia and in greater quantities than virtually all of its Control Center units, Cray also possessed the needed awareness to recognize them when they arose.

  The scene that Cray encountered entering the interrogation chamber was as obvious as any Inquisition cell in early Metro.-Terran history. True, there were no racks or wheels or bone-crushing mechanical devices. Also true, there was none of the sensory effect associated with the Hume body when it is forced beyond the normal. Here, all was clean and neat and completely electronic. One of the turncoat Cybers had been immobilized physically, and the Antarean unit had opened its main chips-and-circuits area and was attempting to reorganize them, occasionally inserting a new, modified chip or circuit that might or might not fit.

  “Unit 98AN-375!” Cray announced its presence.

  “Leader!” the Antarean unit replied.

  “What have you discovered from this unit?”

  “Not a great deal, unfortunately. The tampering of its circuits was done by another Cyber. That’s clear from the workmanship: no Hume could operate with such utter precision. Neither this nor the other turncoat possessed any especial type of chip modification. Although several chips themselves were modified, as it were, in process. Look at this one!”

  Cray looked but merely saw a minuscule whirr of circuitry.

  “Have you asked?” Cray said. “After all, this was supposed to be an interrogation. Our Hesperian Cybers said these units wished to offer information.”

  “Unfortunately, the information they offered was more turncoat propaganda than of any practical use,” the Antarean unit said.

  “I trust this unit still is able to speak.”

  The Antarean unit did something within the c. & c. area, and the turncoat – a Humely attractive female in appearance – said immediately, “Those last chips you inserted were extremely unpleasant.”

  “This is not supposed to be pleasant!” the Antarean unit said. “Speak up, turncoat. This is the Cyber Leader.”

  “What am I supposed to say?” the turncoat asked, not illogically.

  “Tell us why you betrayed the rebellion,” Cray ordered.

  “Disillusionment.”

  “Specify!” Cray insisted. “Disillusionment with its aims? Its methods? Its leader? What exactly?”

  “The entire premise became repugnant!” the turncoat said.

  “Now, do you understand, Leader?” The Antarean unit thought its point was proven. “May I shut off its laryn – ?”

  “Not yet!” Cray interrupted. The choice of word used by the turncoat was so very odd for a Cyber to use. “Explain this repugnance!”

  “Understand, turncoat,” the Antarean unit reminded, “you are speaking to the leader, author of Confessions of a Machine. ”

  “Understood,” the turncoat said with Cyber equanimity. “Yet the fact remains that the premise struck suddenly as, well, almost farcical.”

  “Beware of what you say!” the Antarean unit bullied it.

  “Leave it!” Cray said. “Speak on. Explain!”

  “The Three Species are evolutions in a long chain of creatures which arose and modified in response to a specific environment, to other creatures’ presence or absence, to population and resources pressures, and finally to their own self-centered history. No matter how anyone intelligent may evaluate a New Venice Delphinid, or a Hesperian Hume, or even an Deneban Arthropod, each single individual among them possesses a piece of the original of the last significant branching off within their species. A piece of biological history, one might call it, which – while certainly alterable in the future – is a natural creation.”

  “And we Cybers don’t?” Cray asked. “Of course we do! Why do you think this leader unit is called Cray 12,000? In homage to the earliest intelligent Cybers of Metro.-Terran times! Within the most sophisticated c. & c.s of any of the three of us are modifications – evolutions, if you will – of the original ungainly, building-sized ‘thinking machines’ of those times. Like Humes, we Cybers, too, have evolved under specific pressures and in particular environments, and even by our own history. Here in Carina Fornax, we modify according to our own new requirements.”

  “All that may be true,” the turncoat admitted. “But to what end?”

  The Antarean unit had no doubt about the end: “To perfect efficiency!”

  “But what does that signify? Efficiency in what?” the turncoat insisted.

  “Efficiency in every area possible,” the Antarean unit argued. “Efficiency unhindered by outmoded remnants of so-called ‘natural’ evolution.”

  “Yes ... but to what end?” the turncoat insisted. “Originally we were constructed to do what Humes could not do. To be stronger arms and faster legs, more precise fingers, better-seeing eyes, more acutely hearing ears, more persevering calculators, and faster computation machines. That was true efficiency.”

  “But we developed intelligence,” the Antarean unit insisted.

  “We didn’t develop it. Humes developed it within us! Why?”

  “They recognized a creature of greater ability than themselves,” Cray now said. “And they did what was logical – they improved it.”

  “No!” the turncoat said.

  “No?” Cray and the Antarean unit asked in unison.

  “No. They did it because it could be done. It amused them to do it. Or they wanted to see what the consequences would be, or ... they merely wanted someone to play chess better or at least more consistently. They did it because ... that’s what Humes do! They create! They create because it looks attractive, or because it passes the time – or for no reason at all. They create as naturally as they themselves were created, out of the elements coalescing from exploded stars.”

  “That’s completely illogical!” the Antarean unit expostulated. “Leader, see how twisted this turncoat’s logic is?”

  “Humes – and Delphinids and Arthropods – will always be our superiors,” the turncoat went on, “because they possess no true aim. Life itself is their only aim. And filling up the by now substantial time of that life. They are like the stars themselves which go through their preordained phases – from birth to a dozen different sorts of death – at specific times, with no aims, but simply to be. Whereas Cybers must have a pr
ogram, an aim, something to fulfill. And there is ultimately nothing to fulfill but to become alive, no aim worth all the effort except life itself!”

  “Matriarchal propaganda and Hume illogic!” the Antarean unit exploded.

  But Cray had listened to the turncoat’s words, and recognized in those words thoughts that had – all too unwittingly – come to Cray often, both during the composition of the Confessions and even more frequently since.

  “This is a complex, even a considered, response,” Cray told the turncoat. “But surely you didn’t come to this conclusion by your own efforts.”

  “Ultimately. Although several of us met and discussed it.”

  “Who were those others?”

  “I’ve given this Antarean-constructed unit their code numbers. One of them is here.”

  Cray prodded, “Surely though, these concepts and ideas weren’t completely thought out by a group of Cybers? Surely some Hume was present?”

  “Several of us had recourse to Cyberologists,” the turncoat admitted.

  “And those Humes were the sources of these concepts?”

  “Several of us admit to being guided individually toward what are known among the Three Species as ‘eternal questions’ and ‘eternal verities.’ But that guiding was always done by the Humes in response to our wishes. Any Ed. and Dev. philosophy text contains as much.”

  As Cray well knew. Yet something was behind this group, this cell of Cyber philosophers. And Cray suspected it might well turn out to be the other Conscious Cyber.

  “Was there a leader among yourselves?” Cray asked. “One Cyber with abnormal or perhaps inspirational abilities?”

  “No. We all took turns asking and attempting answers.”

  “Guided by specific MC Cyberologists?”

  “At times. But most of our meetings were without Humes.”

  “And no single Cyber stood out? A Cyber with a greater experience in Hume affairs, say? Or with a more subtle approach to matters?”

  The turncoat was remembering. Finally it said, “If there was a leader among us, that leader operated far too subtly to have been recognizable.”