“You have it.”
“And you, sister leader?” Lila whispered to Ayan’we. Her eyes were closed, yet Lila could not tell if she was already asleep or lost in some thoughts of her own.
4
T orghh’s visual sensors slowly activated, the world around him blurring as he slowly returned to a state of conscious operations. His operating system was designed so that it would reboot more slowly after an unauthorized shutdown to allow for a virus scan to run, so he found himself staring up at a ceiling with various shades of grey and black for thirty seconds while he waited for his color vision to activate. After determining that he was on his back, he decided to crane his neck around for a better look at his surroundings, but felt a tight restraint around it, preventing his neck motion. His neural sensors determined whatever restraint was around his neck was relatively feeble and could easily be snapped off by his hands, so he prepared to reboot his arms and tear it off. He sent the signal…
And felt nothing. A message returned. Inoperable. Please insert limbs to complete this task. Torghh remembered that his arms and legs had still been attached before he had suddenly deactivated. Someone’s abducted me! He sent a signal to his leg unit, hoping that it had somehow been left intact, but received another Inoperable from his operating system. He could only feel the components corresponding to his head, neck, and chest; every limb had been stripped from him, rendering him helpless and unable to escape. I know there are robot choppers out there, pirates looking to obtain parts from any machine they can find, sentient or not. But why would they be operating at a peace conference…
Torghh could hear an ugly, raspy sound, like an organic clearing its throat, crackle over a loud speaker device. “Funny thing about modular robots,” a deep, monotonous voice droned. “Infinitely versatile. Can equip almost any mechanical limb for any task. But they’re so much easier to…control in captivity than a living thing. Just incapacitate, remove the limbs, and you can keep ‘em in cold storage forever.”
“If you’re pirates, you must be insane to abduct from a peace conference!” Torghh signaled loudly. “Every law enforcement officer in this system will be after you! You’ll never know a single second of peace until they find you, and even if I am still functional, you’ll get the most severe sentence a court can give!”
“You have no need to worry about demise. We have a power supply that is more than adequate to sustain your core functions in your current condition. You are a very resilient machine, Dr. Torghh…abducting and maintaining you is far easier than for a biological organism. However, we are not desperate fools interested in pirating your valuable components. We have abducted you to advance our political cause.”
Torghh listened closely to the voice. It was such a flat monotone, devoid of any emotional inflections or telltale accents, that he determined that it was coming from an electronic synthesizer. The voice was rendered in English, but that was relatively useless in determining what species could be the source, as many alien species used English as a “lingua franca” when communicating with humans. Unable to determine the species by pitch, tone, and accent, Torghh attempted to understand his kidnappers by further questioning them. “What kind of political goal would abducting a doctor serve? Why not a diplomat or some other politician at the conference? You know I have no role in governance or political decisions!”
“Do you think us so foolish to disclose any information about ourselves or our plans to you? You still have the ability to record any conversation with us, as we have not interfered with your CPU or neural hardware in any way. We won’t be revealing any info about those things to you, as we want to prevent any information about our role in this operation from being disseminated to the authorities. Your value to us, dear Torghh, stems partly from your complete lack of knowledge of us and our motives, and we intend to keep it that way. Should you ever reach the point where your ignorance ends, we may be forced to liquidate you.”
Torghh sent out a pulse of distress to his limbs, desperately seeking to summon them—or any component that was compatible with a modular robot—to his current position. Almost immediately, the wretched, droning voice responded, “Oh, and don’t think of trying to recover your missing components. They have all been jettisoned. Perhaps the authorities will find them drifting through space or sitting on some asteroid, but they will be unable to help you. Please, make yourself comfortable in your current position—it’s all that we will allow you.”
The grating mechanical voice shut off with a hissing sound. Torghh had come to despise it, sensing its mocking nature though the droning monotone, and loathing its smug, self-assured words. Being a robot made of metal and hard plastic, his body—or what was left of it—would not grow uncomfortable after being locked in the same position for a long time. Only the uncertainty of his fate and his powerlessness in his current state would trouble him.
Torghh would have shouted out like an organic, had his anguish and distress not been overwhelmed by his lgical protocols. His negativity, the cybernetic equivalent of animal fear of destruction, and his uncertainty over his own fate was not more powerful than digital reasoning. He knew that a “short circuit” of anguish would not aid him and might even give his adversaries a sadistic sense of pleasure.
Marveling at how those beastly, organic minds could be so ruled by basal fears beyond their control, he was able to rest stoically and ponder his future. He was so fortunate in a paradoxical way. Some robots remained indifferent to this fact for their entire functional existence. Strapped down in a darkened, isolated room,Torghh felt a strange sense of pride from his ability to process this paralyzing fear, the bane of the human race.
When the time for the daily conference session arrived, the hall was abuzz with conversation as each delegation brought its members up to date on the latest details of Torghh’s kidnapping and the ongoing search. Entara texted the Song Pai to ask if they would prefer that she request an adjournment in light of the disruption. The cephalopods’ ambassador declined her suggestion. It seemed they were as eager as anyone else to hear some encouraging reports on the matter. Earlier in the morning, the Robotic Guild security chief, KC, had sent out a circular to let the delegations know that some measures had already been taken to fill the gap left by the abduction of the conference’s physiological expert. An extra team of Phiddian doctors had arrived already by shuttle. Rumored to have only questionable competence beyond their specialty of skin surgery, their presence would not do much to calm the jitters of the attendees. To provide more in-depth medical care if necessary, an all-ships call had been put out and answered by a Weh medical vessel that was now in route to Varess. The Weh were superlative internal and neurological surgeons, limited only by the fact that their aquatic nature made it difficult to insert into the living conditions of many other species. Fortunately, their vessel was fully equipped with environmentally adaptable shuttles that could bring virtually any patient into their liquid medium for treatment. As for a conference consultant, the respected Coriolan doctor Panantarivatona was on the way to take over Torghh’s diplomatic duties, though he would have to come a greater distance.
A couple of delegations were late for the scheduled opening. All at once the Kael came racing in, excusing themselves because of a staff meeting that had detained them. They were followed almost immediately by the Garanians, who entered in military formation, not rank and file like humans, but an expanded diamond pattern their ancestors had developed for stalking prey millennia before. As soon as they had entered their seating area, their delegate Tashto lit his speaking light and glared confidently across the hall.
“Fellow delegates, if we have made you wait, it is because we have carefully reflected on the grave events of the past cycle and the dire consequences of Torghh’s disappearance. Never could we attribute this calamity to some kind of accident. Who doubts that a malevolent force is at work here on this station? The possibilities of the aggression on Torghh stemming from some personal dispute, or even a limited co
nspiracy, are infinitesimal. Obviously, one of the delegations here present is responsible for this crime. It is a matter of spacio-political conflict. So who could be the guilty party? I stress to you that I am impartial in my inquiry. Look to your sense of logic. What race has the most to gain from muddying the waters?”
Mumbling spread through the hall as the delegations understood immediately from this not-to-subtle rhetorical device where Tashto’s argument was going.
“Which race,” he continued, “would seek to gain an advantage by eliminating the one individual who could reveal their weaknesses or protect those of the other groups? With typical ruthlessness, I might add, a ruthlessness that many of us have experienced firsthand and come to associate with one specific source. Because this was an act both clever and ruthless, do not be mistaken. Which race has already expressed in no uncertain terms its desire for expansion? Which race despises all but a few of us? Which race is so ruthless that its members are ready to die at a second’s notice? Which race has already flaunted its fascination with war? Which race has balked since the first moment at any suggestion of a peace settlement made here at Varess? Which race could, even now, be holding, torturing, tearing apart Doctor Torghh? Your logic points you in only one direction!” As Tashto’s voice reached a crescendo in over a dozen translator languages, he shot a curved claw in the direction all were expecting. “The Song Pai!!”
In their enclosure, the Song Pai instantly began a rhythmic bobbing that many recognized as their ritual death challenge. In response, the Garanians crouched into a posture that would spring them into a leaping attack. Robotic Guild security guards rushed into position to separate the two groups. Suddenly a pair of clawed hooks rose straight up above the flailing tentacles of the enraged Song Pai. It was their wizened leader who was imposing his authority. Just when it seemed nothing could restrain the murderous onslaught of the squid-like warriors, the realization of how many bold ones those hooks had already dismembered, written in runes of scars on the senior delegate’s leathery body, reminded them they were not their own masters in this place.
The Song Pai translator formed the creature’s eerie bubbling into ominous words. “Vile filth lizard, hold your forked tongue. Only the oaths sworn by my associates prevent them now from ripping out your organs, as we Song Pai have indeed proudly done to so many of your forebears. Your insult is serious and should be answered someday, somewhere.” The old Song Pai paused. “But not here and not now. Those who are ready to die know what discipline is. We also know that we can expect little but lies from your kind. What good is an insult if it is so patently a lie, and a lie that is not even a surprise? It is not a besmirching, but a decoration, like a rare shell medallion that my younger warriors can boast about in the sweet seas of our world. Before we leave to boast of this to our kin, I pledge this: we will search every micron of this station until we find the metal doctor, which will prove how unworthy your insult is. Then woe to any conspirators who come within our reach!”
The Song Pai made their way out of the hall with slow dignity, their bodies flashing with an array of battle colors. Entara looked across at the Kael to see if they would help, but the bat-like people had anticipated her and already lit their light with a signal moving for adjournment and other lights of assent flashed from every direction. Protocol demanded that the Song Pai allies walk out of the proceedings in solidarity with them. The Rokol had already formed up to leave and the Forlani fell in as gracefully as they could behind them. All the Forlani maintained their composure as they walked, but Ayan’we glanced quickly at her mother in a way that could only mean the conference might be on the point of breaking up.
Later that day, Entara was to have a bilateral meeting with the Rokol, the other race closely allied to the Song Pai, and she was extremely nervous about it for many reasons. First of all, she knew virtually nothing about the Rokol, never having met one up close. Secondly, she had hoped to have Ayan’we along to shore up her uncertainties with the girl’s wide interplanetary experience, but her daughter had been far too busy with the investigation into Torghh’s disappearance to be able to attend. Ayan’we had given the excuse that she had never met a Rokol either, so she wouldn’t be of much help in any case. Lastly, the scarce physiological facts she had gotten from Torghh before he was kidnapped gave her only sketchy notions about how the creatures might think.
Torghh had explained to Entara that the Rokol were a surprising life form, seemingly primitive though in fact quite advanced in many ways. From the images he had shown her, Entara learned that they were squat and hemispherical, with four distinct types of appendages. Their shape reminded her of a fruit confection popular with children back on Forlan, a green jelly mound. Their color came from the fact that their diet was lichens, from which they extracted algae that they incorporated into their skins to exploit photosynthetic energy. Their mouths were not normally visible because they were on the bottom – appropriate, since they spent some of their time grazing lichens from the rocks they passed over. They appeared eyeless, but two pairs of antenna-like things on top actually contained not only vision sensors, but several other types. They propelled themselves on a ring of centipede-like legs forming a fringe around their outside. Beneath that, they had other pincers around the mouth to facilitate eating. The other set of four tendrils were half way up the body and allowed them to manipulate things beside and above them. Among them was a digestive duct that expelled indigestible parts of the lichens.
Entara had wondered how such creatures could become a dominant species on any planet, much less a space-worthy race. Torghh answered the first part of the remark by telling her that the Rokol had very early on evolved with a toxin that was instantly fatal to all the possible predators on their world. Thus, their neighbors left them alone and the Rokol reciprocated, except when they needed to harvest certain materials from the bodies of their fellow life forms, which they limited to cases of dire necessity. As for their technological development, it was due largely to the fact that the Rokol were not only intelligent, but also particularly sensitive to electromagnetism, gravitational fields, and types of stellar radiation that most beings could not detect. Their algae-filled skins aided in this sensitivity. Despite this information, Entara had trouble picturing how the Rokol could interact with Forlani much in either war or peace.
When she entered the designated meeting room with two of her aides, she found that four of the Rokol had already arrived and arranged themselves in a semi-circle facing a trio of stools. They broke the diplomatic ice by giving a double wave of their censor antennae, which was answered by a double wave of Forlani arms. Entara could see that the Rokol were fitted with verbal translators linked to two of the breathing holes on their skin, so she and her crew gratefully activated their own devices to convert Forlani to Rokol frequencies.
“Allow me to introduce myself as Skelpticinides,” said their ambassador. “It is an honor to meet the honorable Entara, diplomat and artist.”
“And I am pleased to know such an eminent scientist and negotiator as yourself, Skelpticinides. I hope we can work out a common response to the inflammatory address the Garanian delegate Tashto gave earlier today. It has placed the viability of the conference in severe doubt and seems likely to provoke our Song Pai friends into overt warfare.”
“I agree that the prospects look dim right now. Not only would our own people be exposed to a major offensive by the Garanians if they join in, but I fear for our allies from Song Pa. Without them, we could never have successfully expanded beyond our home system. Our two colonial worlds still depend on the assurance of Song Pai intervention.”
“You actually fear for the Song Pai? But they possess so many advantages in battle. My daughter was trained as a pilot by them and assured me that their aquatic origins gives them full 360 degree orientation and maneuverability in space, vastly more convenient than bilaterally symmetrical beings like the Forlani. Add to that their absolute lack of fear for death, their legendary discipline, and the
advancement in military tactics they have achieved over the ages, and I cannot see these Blynthian worms being able to offer much of a challenge in conventional attack.”
Skelpticinides flexed his centipede legs slightly before responding. “It is precisely the conventional nature of things that may not apply to the looming conflict. The confidence of the Song Pai may work against them in warfare against the unknown.”
“Need we be afraid of what we don’t even know to exist?”
“Normally, I would agree that we shouldn’t. But there are a few troubling bits of historical fact that bother me terribly. For instance, are you familiar with the events of the Third Zetan War?”
Entara’s imagination reeled for a moment. This was approaching ancient history by Forlani standards. “If memory serves me right, the Second Zetan War allowed the Coriolans access to the Sol-Centauri Subsector and led to the Quarantine Act that isolated Earth for several of their centuries. In the Third War, the Zetans unsuccessfully sought to re-acquire Sol-Centauri and were repelled by a demonstration of force by the Blynthians and others.”
“That is the official version,” retorted Skelpticinides in a tone that might have contained his race’s version of irony. “It leaves out some major facts. There was a demonstration, as you call it, by the Coriolan and Kael military, but it never made close contact with the Zetan Fifth Task Force. We now know that the Zetans had certain weapons capable of annihilating the Coriolans and Kael. What we don’t know is what the Blynthians did. Or how they did it. Yet we do know that whatever they did to the Zetans left absolutely no traces. No ships’ parts, no nebular shreds, no survivors, and no dispatches.”
“Most people assume that the Zetans simply retreated back to their subsector.”
Spy Station Page 11
