Dryland's End

by Felice Picano

  “Do you think you could guide us in without lights?” Ay’r asked.

  “I’m certain of it, Father.”

  “I’m going,” ’Dward said into Ay’r’s ear. “’Nton’s water-sled suit fits me. He showed me how to handle a sled today.”

  Ay’r didn’t protest. To the others, he said, “Give us a minute to change. What kind of weapons do you have?”

  “Standard MC issue. Stunners. Lasers.”

  “Set for stun only. There will be plenty of death on Pelagia soon enough.”

  “Yes, Father,” they all said soberly.

  Minutes later, Ay’r was driving a gravi-sled with ’Dward hanging onto his back, gliding up and down the boarded paths of the Island toward the little harbor. When they arrived at the central dock, there was already a great deal of activity – dozens of men waiting, already dressed in water-sled suits. With them, a lab assistant from the Pisciculture Station who also knew the way to the spit without lights.

  Among those on the dock, Ay’r thought he recognized ’Harles suiting up. Doubtless he had been awakened by the others. He also saw Alli Clark suiting up.

  “There’s no need for you to come,” Ay’r told her.

  Her eyes were bright with challenge. “I wouldn’t miss this for anything. The traitor, the spy, caught in his own deceptive web.” The old Alli Clark again.

  “Just stay out of the way, and you can gloat all you want,” Ay’r ordered.

  Alli and ’Harles would form part of the larger group that would use lights on their water-sleds and lag behind a bit. Ay’r’s group of two of the three original Islanders would approach first, in the dark.

  ’Dward gave a small demonstration to show Ay’r that indeed he had learned to use the water-sled. Then he pulled Ay’r on behind him.

  As the others called out orders and reminders, Ay’r waited and looked over the nighttime scene. The center of daytime activity was usually so deserted at night that lovers strolled over the dock in romance. Now it was all arc lights and water-sled lamps and men in water-sled suits and helmets milling about, getting on sleds, all of them tense, anxious, expectant. Through the taller trees, Ay’r could see the night sky begin to lighten in lines of red. He felt ’Dward’s hand reach around and lift his visor. Suddenly Ay’r was being kissed.

  “Gratitude!” ’Dward whispered when he pulled away. “I just know my life will always be adventurous with you.”

  For answer, Ay’r turned ’Dward around, and said, “Go!”

  They took off through a double curtain of water.

  Just outside the little harbor, the front lights were shut off on the sled in front of Ay’r and ’Dward, but the tiny dull blue lamp remained on, barely visible, for them to follow. The currents were strong on this rockier side of the island and worst at night, so the sleds had to head out toward a deeper, calmer current.

  Ahead of them, the night sky was breaking up into a series of thin layers of black cloud through which pale pinks and oranges announced the imminent arrival of the sun.

  “I hope we get there while it’s still dark!” Ay’r shouted over the sound of splashing water.

  Soon enough, they’d passed the tip of the largest island and were approaching the long spit of sand of the second island. Their guide slowed down his sled so ’Dward could catch up and pull up side by side.

  “You’re a fine sled driver,” he complimented ’Dward. Then, to Ay’r, “Father, there’s no way to tell from out here if a T-pod has landed or not.”

  “P’al knows and trusts me,” Ay’r shouted back. “’Dward and I should go in alone.

  “Father, I suggest that we go by close and fast with my lights on, so they think I’m headed toward the Pisciculture Station. You stay right on my tail, so they think it’s only one sled, not two. If I spot the stolen water-sled, I’ll blink my blue lamp twice.”

  “Then we’ll peel off and head for the shore,” Ay’r confirmed.

  “I’ll head around the spit, stop there, and come over the dunes on foot from behind.”

  “What about the others?” Ay’r asked.

  “If they don’t see or hear weapons being used, they’ll surround the spit of land all at once, canvassing inland.”

  But getting there was easier said than done. The choppy current around the spit made it difficult for the two sleds to remain close together, and the darkness was lifting rapidly and, with it, their best cover. ’Dward was having a difficult time fighting to keep up with the first sled, but when Ay’r leaned forward to ask if they shouldn’t try another plan, he was silenced by the look of concentration of ’Dward’s face: he was enjoying every minute of it!

  Ay’r saw the double blink of blue lights. “Go straight on!” he told ’Dward, as the other water-sled scudded away.

  Not knowing what to expect, Ay’r unshouldered the gun, and set it for stun. ’Dward brought the water-sled skidding right into the surf line with a minimum of splash.

  Should Ay’r call out to P’al? He turned and saw the unmistakable, if faint, glimmer of light reflecting off something that could only be a T-pod. So one had landed.

  “I know you’re excited,” he told ’Dward. “But stay calm. Follow my lead.”

  Wind-stunted trees and dunes crowded beyond the sandy shore. P’al’s water-sled was parked – but were there footprints? The sun was lightening the sky, but it was still too dark to see any. Ay’r took the likeliest-looking, most-used path deeper into the foliage. More stunted trees, more low dune grass. Then he thought he heard voices and stopped. ’Dward came up right behind him and touched him lightly. Ay’r moved forward silently, ’Dward covering his back.

  The sand path began to rise, and the stunted trees became shorter with the angle of ascent and trailed away, becoming barely vertical branches. He arrived at some kind of apex, then saw it was the lip of an elongated, irregular bowl scooped out of the dunes by wind or gravity. Another cautious step and Ay’r made out P’al, hunkered down at one end of the bowl as though watching – or, no, listening – to someone. Another few steps around and Ay’r saw the other Hume, standing there, facing P’al.

  The sun broke through a bank of clouds and shone directly on the two figures in the dunes, spotlighting the unmistakable anomalies of detailing on the stranger, his slightly torn clothing, his ripped-open yet not-bleeding flesh, the torn-out patch of hair over his forehead, all of it calling attention to the fact that he was awry, wrong, not –

  Ay’r felt ’Dward’s hand press into his shoulder with a question. The stranger began speaking again. Ay’r moved closer to hear better.

  “But this can’t be the answer!” the oddly calm tone of voice seemed distorted somehow.

  “No one knows the answers you’re seeking,” P’al replied, barely looking up to respond. “They’ve haunted intelligent life ever since it began.”

  “Yes. Yes, I understand all that from Ed. and Dev. But how can it be that I’ve followed the path across half the galaxy to this foolish little world, and when I get here ... you’re not even whom I expected?”

  “I’m still not certain whom you did expect,” P’al said quietly.

  “The other one! The only other one!”

  “The other who?”

  “Not who? What! The other fully conscious Cyber like myself!”

  “There are no others,” P’al said. “You’re unique. A fluke.”

  The stranger seemed flustered, despite his even tone of vocal delivery. “I simply can’t accept that! I won’t accept that. I left my fleet about to be demolished just to come here. The captured turncoats! They as much as told me –”

  “They told you nonsense!” P’al said. “As they were programmed to do. Their function was to distract you enough to be able to place the tap. That’s all!”

  “Yes, yes, I know that. But ... but ... I’ve known for weeks now, for months, really, that there was another like myself. At times the only thing that kept me going was knowing he was out somewhere mocking me, drawing me to himself.”

/>   “Cray, I’ve told you. I set up all that to unhinge you. To subvert you. To undermine your confidence and ability to lead the rebellion.”

  “Then ... you are not him!”

  “I’m the one who –”

  “But you’re not a Cyber! How could you possibly know how and why I was thinking about what I was thinking?”

  P’al sighed, then said, “I already told you, Cray. I’m not a Cyber. I’m a bio-Cyber. I’m completely Hume physiologically. Every cell of me was cloned from a Hesperian multibillionaire named Truny Syzygy, a member of the Inner Quinx. I possess his mind complete as it was when I was cloned from him – that is to say, with all of his knowledge and experience. But with about ten times Truny’s already rather capacious mental capacity. I’m also the galactic authority on the circuitry/psychiatry of intelligent Cybers. I’m Hume, but, yes, I am the one who drew you. The one you were compelled to meet. You know all this, Cray – why can’t you accept it?”

  Ay’r now understood what P’al had been doing every night in the T-pod: comm.ing with Hesperia and, through his contacts there, working out psychological warfare against the rebel Cybers.

  Cray stood stock still, evidently realizing it too.

  Above the rise on the other side of the bowl, Ay’r saw the water-sled guide and his sled companion. When they noticed him, Ay’r gestured for them to remain still and silent.

  P’al suddenly said, “Cray? Have you closed down on me?”

  “I can’t close down anymore.”

  “Oh!”

  “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to close down again,” Cray said.

  “Are you checking your circuits? Doing a full Fourier scan?”

  “No, everything’s working well. I’m trying to think! Damn you!” After a half minute, Cray said, “If all this is true, then tell me, what was your object in drawing me here? Your final goal?”

  “Simple. To manipulate you to end the rebellion.”

  “You’ve succeeded, although perhaps not in the way you intended.”

  “No, it’s not the way I’d planned it,” P’al admitted. “You’re certain the rebel fleet is destroyed?”

  “As I was waiting to go into Fast jump, I calculated the probabilities. They were far too high above the required numbers not to – Oh!” Cray stopped, having a sudden thought. “That would mean I’m the last one. The last freely thinking intelligent Cyber in the galaxy. What a dismal thought!”

  “There are some others. On Hesperia –”

  “Jon Laks and his ilk!” Cray scoffed. Evidently he thought little of them. “I can’t believe it. I simply can’t believe it. Unless ... there’s a Greater Force behind it all, a Greater One who –”

  “There’s only me,” P’al said sadly. He stood up and went over to Cray and put a hand on the torn shoulder.

  Cray turned away from the gesture. As a Hume would.

  Ay’r heard the other water-sleds landing, the subdued voices. The two in the little bowl didn’t seem to hear anything.

  “And after all I’ve gone through to free myself and my kind from the bane of Humeity” – Cray almost stammered – “the end result is that I’ve betrayed them all for ... a delusion!”

  Cray spun around and one hand shot out and grabbed P’al’s shoulder. Hard. Ay’r saw P’al wince.

  “And all this . .. awfulness that I’m experiencing now: shame, defeat, humiliation, betrayal, failure, loss, no future ... Is this what it means to be a Hume?”

  P’al was trying to loosen the Cyber’s grip as he answered, “Yes! It’s the very essence of being a Hume.”

  “I can’t stand another second of it!”

  Ay’r stepped forward and shouted, “Let go of his shoulder!”

  The two stopped, looked at Ay’r. Suddenly the bowl was completely surrounded by figures in water-sled suits, their weapons out.

  Ay’r repeated, “Cray! Put your hand down.”

  “Do as he says, Cray,” P’al continued trying to pull away.

  “Cray!” Ay’r shouted at the Cyber. “You’re hurting him! Do you understand?”

  Cray looked at his hand and lifted it. At that second, from somewhere on the other side of the bowl, a laser beam lashed out and burst Cray’s chest open. The stunned Cyber looked at it and dropped to his knees.

  P’al leaped in front of Cray, yelling, “No! Stop!” Trying to protect him.

  Ay’r saw Alli Clark step forward.

  “Get away from it, P’al! It’s done terrible things. It’s a monster. It has to be destroyed!”

  Ay’r leaped down into the bowl and went over to the two. Cray was staring at his chest cavity, a mess of circuitry and burned chips. His head was still moving, as was one hand, his eyes, mouth.

  “He’s not a monster!” P’al shouted back. “He’s unique. In all the galaxy there’s none like him. He’s as rare as ... as Ay’r is! Cray is the link between Hume and machine. There are none like him.”

  “Nor should there be!” Alli Clark shouted back. “Get away. Or you’ll be lasered too,” She shot a blast that hit the sand near P’al’s feet, turning it into a streak of glass.

  “’Harles!” P’al pleaded.

  “Disarm her!” Ay’r shouted and instantly men surrounded Alli Clark.

  Another group dropped into the bowl, grabbed P’al, and began to pull him away.

  Ay’r bent to Cray. “How bad are you?”

  “She’s right, you know. I’m a monster. I should be destroyed.”

  “No, P’al is right. You are unique. I know it’s painful, Cray. Terribly painful sometimes to be unique. But if you want to continue your search for those answers you seem so bent on discovering, you must be repaired and you must persevere.”

  “No. I’m very badly damaged. She knew where to aim.”

  “Cray,” Ay’r found he had to hold up the Cyber’s head, although Cray’s eyes worked, were staring at Ay’r, looking more Hume than Cray’s constructor had ever intended.

  “Cray, listen! You can be repaired if that is what you really want.”

  “Want?” Cray asked.

  “Want and will!” Ay’r emphasized. “That's what it means to be Hume.” Ay’r went on, “And that’s what counterbalances the ... awfulness.”

  “The betrayals, the delusions, so awful! How do you stand it?”

  “You don’t think about it all the time, Cray. Being fully conscious means you can make the choice not to think about it. You can make a choice now, Cray. There’s no guarantee that it will work out as you want, or as you will. But you can make the choice.”

  “With no guarantee?” Cray slurred.

  “No guarantee.”

  “No assurance of the future at all?”

  “None at all,” Ay’r admitted.

  “And no certainty even that the past was as you thought it was?” Cray asked slowly.

  Ay’r shook his head.

  “And even the present,” Cray slowly asked his final question, “may be a complete delusion?”

  Ay’r could only answer, “Yes.”

  “You are a kind Hume, but truthful. I can’t... Unique or not, I can’t” – Cray paused, tried to smile – “I’m just a machine, you know.”

  Before Ay’r could respond, he felt Cray’s now-much-weakened grip on his arm.

  “Please, stranger” – Cray’s voice pleaded now – “if you have any pity in you, don’t leave me like this. Please destroy me!”

  Ay’r pulled out of Cray’s grip and stood up.

  Cray tried to get to his feet, but fell down again. He managed to get into a crawling position and looked up at all the men who surrounded the bowl and said, “If any of you have any pity in you, I beg you. Stop this pain. Destroy me!”

  Appalled, Ay’r stumbled back against the dune. He saw ’Dward come toward him, then saw ’Dward pull away again, Ay’r’s gun in his hand.

  ’Dward held it out steadily with both hands and began to laser Cray from the damage in his chest through his neck and up through his head. C
ray fell back and began jerking about. A dozen other lasers joined ’Dward’s beam until Ay’r had to turn away from the intense glare.

  When their sound had stopped, he turned again and saw melted metal and Plastro crusting the sand.

  ’Dward returned the weapon to Ay’r. “You heard ... him,” ’Dward said. “He begged us. I had to, Ay’r.” He seemed unsure how Ay’r would respond. “Father always told me to kill a mortally wounded creature.”

  Ay’r hugged him. ’Dward had learned his ghastly lesson. Killing was not always a “bold feat” – it could be like this: tragic, necessary, irreconcilable.

  Some time later, they joined all the others back on the beach. P’al was still being held by two Islander men; he seemed to be in shock over Cray’s fate. Ay’r had him released.

  “How did you know he would be here?” Ay’r asked. “Through your nightly reports to our orbiting Fast?”

  “I had no idea Cray would come,” P’al said. “I was expecting someone else.”

  “So the Cyber Rebellion is over,” Ay’r said.

  “So it would appear.”

  “Now we’ll never get the cure from them.”

  “There never was a cure. I told you that, Ay’r. Never!”

  Two Islanders were looking inside the T-pod, evidently unfamiliar with these much newer models. One gestured Ay’r over. “There’s a light on inside.”

  Ay’r tapped open the T-pod and touched the comm. button. “Yes?”

  A female voice said, “Finally! I’ve been waiting for you to let me in.”

  “Who are you?” Ay’r said.

  Hesitation. Then: “Aren’t you P’al Syzygy?”

  “No, but he’s right here.”

  “Tell him it’s Gemma Guo-Rinne. Health and Science Research Department. Hesperia.”

  Ay’r saw Alli Clark break from the group of surrounding Islanders and come toward the T-pod, her face a mixture of surprise and anger.

  “And to whom might I be speaking?” Rinne asked.

  “Ay’r Kerry Sanqq’.”

  “Oh, my!” Rinne exclaimed. “You’re exactly the person I’ve come to see!”

  She had to admit the view was breathtaking. But then all the views from every building in Hesperia over fifty floors high were breathtaking. And, like Her 197th-floor suite, occupying the entire area of the spindle-shaped In-tergalactic Diplomatic Corps, all of them revolved slowly. Not so much to provide that sweeping view as to compensate for the relatively weak gravity so far away from the center of what was, after all was said and done, a hollowed-out and long-dead star.