Asimov’s Future History Volume 8

by Isaac Asimov

  “No, but the automatics will be helping me, not fighting you.”

  Wolruf grabbed the joystick again and threw it hard over, just as another blast grazed the hull. “No offense,” she said around the control, “but I’m willin’ t’ bet ‘at me on crippled manual is still a better pilot’ an ‘u with full automatics.” A second later she went flying across the cabin as a massive explosion rocked the ship. The viewing screen flickered and went dead. The cabin lights went out and stayed out.

  “‘Course,” Wolruf whined, somewhere in the dark, “I could be wrong.”

  What seemed an eternity later, dim red emergency lighting came up slowly and a pleasant little bell chimed. “I’m sorry,” the ship said in a soft, feminine voice of the sort usually reserved for elevators and recorded phone messages, “but all main power feeds have been severed. Repairs are in progress, and I expect to restore full function in about five minutes. Sorry for the inconvenience. “The bell chimed again, and the speakers went silent.

  For some time, there was utter silence on the bridge. No reassuring hum or robotic activity; no soft whirring of ventilation fans. The air recirculation system had gone out with the lights, and already the atmosphere on the bridge was growing thick and fetid. There were no sounds at all, save for Avery’s heavy breathing, Wolruf’s frightened whine, and the occasional thud of a low-power hit on the hull.

  “What’s he waiting for?” Avery whispered, as if afraid that his voice would carry through the vacuum to the Erani ship. “Why isn’t he hitting us with everything he’s got?”

  “I don’t know,” Derec whispered back. “He didn’t stop firing on the asteroid until it was a smoking mass of gravel. Do you know, Wolruf?” Her only answer was a frightened whine. “Come on. You do know, don’t you?”

  “Old Erani slaving technique,” she said through a whimper. “Suppression fire. Make ‘u keep ‘ur ‘ead down while th’ boarding party jets across.”

  Avery’s head jerked up. “Boarding party?”

  Derec leapt to his feet. “Viewscreens are still out. I’m going to activate my internal commlink and see if I can tap an optic feed.” He closed his eyes in concentration, but the moment he did so a deafening barrage erupted on the surface of the hull.

  “Stop it, Derec!” Derec broke concentration, and the barrage stopped.

  “Your internal commlink,” Avery whispered. “You said the Erani know a lot more about hyperwave than we do. They must be able to monitor your commlink!”

  Derec’s face sank. “Oh, great. Now what do we do?”

  Avery rolled over so that he was facing Wolruf. “Wolruf, you were part of his crew. Will he fire on us if the boarding party is on the hull?”

  Wolruf gave it some thought. “Depends on ‘oo’s in the boarding party. Probably won’t use ‘is ‘eavy guns.”

  “And how far are we from the jump point?”

  Wolruf brought a hind foot up and gave her right ear a scratch. “, Ard to tell. We lost propulsion, rem’mber?”

  Avery patted her on the head. “But we haven’t lost our momentum. We’re still on course and drifting towards the jump point at 2,000 kilometers per second.”

  “’At’s right!” Wolruf got to her feet and staggered over to the control panel. The panel clock had its own backup power cell and was still running. “J minus three minutes an’ fifteen seconds,” she read off. “If we can let th’ boarders land on the ‘ull but keep ’em outside for about three minutes, we ‘ave a chance.”

  “Provided we can get jump power back in time,” Avery added. He got to his feet and joined Wolruf before the control console. “Ship, what is the status of the hyperdrive?”

  “Main power will be reconnected in four minutes,” the ship answered in a soothing, feminine voice. “Repairs to the control systems are being hampered by continuing hostile fire.”

  “Frost! That’s not soon enough.” Then Avery had another thought. “Ship? What happens if we divert all repair resources to the hyperdrive?”

  The ship considered it a moment. “Main power can be restored in approximately two minutes. Repairs to the control systems are still contingent on the cessation of hostile fire.”

  “Divert all resources to the hyperdrive,” Avery ordered. He turned to Derec. “Now, how do we persuade them to stop shooting at us?” Derec shrugged.

  Hesitantly, tentatively, Wolruf stepped forward. “Among my people we ‘ave an old tradition,” she said. “Roll over an’ play dead.”

  Derec gave a frustrated snort and sneered at the little alien. “What kind of idea is that?”

  “A good one,” Avery said, twirling his moustache. “Maybe even a very good one.” He stepped over to the control console and raised his voice. “Ship, do you still retain shape-changing ability?”

  “Certain sections of the hull have been rendered temporarily inoperative,” the ship said pleasantly. “However, I have full control over 80% of the exterior hull.”

  “Excellent.” Avery looked at Wolruf. “Get on the jump controls. I want to jump the instant we’re ready.” Turning back to the console, he said, “Ship, continue to effect hyperdrive repairs, but prepare to simulate a massive explosion. The next time we sustain a hit on a non-essential portion of the hull, jettison plating and other materials and adopt the appearance of severe damage. Do not, repeat, do not conduct self-repairs in that area. Do you understand?”

  “I understand,” the ship said politely. “Simulation program prepared.” A few moments later, the soft thud of a weapons hit was immediately followed by a massive concussion and a rapid drop in cabin pressure. Wolruf, more sensitive to air pressure changes than the others, let out a sharp, painful yelp and fell to the floor.

  Derec dashed to her side, but she waved him off. “‘S okay.” Shaking her head, she got back to her hind feet. “More surprised ‘an ‘urt.”

  “Section 17D has been explosively decompressed,” the ship announced courteously. “Cabin pressure now stabilized.” After a short pause, the ship politely added, “Hostile fire has ceased. The boarding party is moving forward.”

  “Forty-five secon’s t’ jump,” Wolruf whispered.

  “Contact imminent,” the ship said. “Shall I prepare a welcoming message?”

  “No!” Avery hissed. “And, frost it, keep your voice down!”

  “Yes, master,” the ship whispered sweetly. “Hyperdrive power restored. Hyperdrive control circuits still out.”

  Avery turned to Wolruf. “How big is our jump window?”

  “Five seconds, seven max —” She shuddered as a deep clang echoed through the hull. The sound was followed by the groan of creaking metal and an erratic series of hollow pokking sounds.

  “Induction limpet,” Wolruf explained in a frightened whine. “Magnetic boots. They’ll walk ‘roun’ th’ hull, try t’ figurr out where th’ live ‘uns are. Hard t’ sell dead slaves.” She checked the clock again and tucked her tail between her legs. “Thirty seconds t’ jump.”

  The sounds changed now to the rhythmic clacking of metal boots and the grating screech of something heavy being dragged across the outer surface of the hull. This was followed by the deep whump! and rising whine of a power pile being engaged.

  “Cut tin’ laser,” Wolruf whispered. “Must ‘ave found us.” She looked at the clock. “Fifteen seconds t’ jump.”

  “Ship? Repair status.”

  “Hyperdrive control still out. Master? I am experiencing new hull damage in Section 17A.”

  “Sev’n... six...”

  “Thicken the hull in that section. Keep them out.”

  “Four … t’ree …”

  “Negative effect, master. Stand by for hull breach.”

  “‘Un... zero...’at’s it.” Wolruf shrugged and stepped back from the control panel, her ears sagging forlornly.

  “Hull breached in 17A. Hyperdrive control circuits restored.”

  “What?” Avery and Wolruf froze for a moment, staring at each other. Then both leapt on the jump control han
dle and slammed it down.

  A moment later, the Wild Goose Chase was somewhere else.

  Avery wrestled himself out from under Wolruf and grabbed the intercom grid. “Ship! Can you contain the boarding party?”

  “What boarding party?” the ship asked innocently.

  “Wha —?” Avery turned to Derec, a wild and confused look on his face. “Derec? See if you can use your commlink to get an exterior view.” Before he’d finished speaking, Derec had closed his eyes, invoked the commlink, and patched into the ship’s optic feeds.

  “Nothing,” he said hoarsely. “Starfield. No other ships. I see the hull.” He gasped. “Ouch! We took some serious damage.”

  “But where are the boarders?” Avery demanded. “Check Section 17.”

  “I’m getting there. Section 15. Section 16; I see the limpet, it’s welded onto the hull. Section 17.” Derec’s eyes opened wide in surprise. “They’re gone!”

  “Gone? Where?”

  Wolruf roused herself from the corner Avery had pushed her into. ‘If they ‘ur lucky,” she said in a tired rasp, “they got fried by the en’rgy pulse from th’ jump.”

  “That’s lucky?”

  Wolruf indulged in a good shake and then shambled over to join Avery and Derec. “Don’t ‘u know nothin’ about ‘yperspace? Magn’tic polar’ties reverse. If ‘u live t’rough th’ insertion, ‘ur boot magnets repel th’ ship’s magn’tic field. Only for a picosecon’, but ‘at’s long enough t’ blow ‘u off like a rocket.”

  Derec’s face paled. “You mean, they could still be alive, but floating in hyperspace?”

  Wolruf laid a paw on Derec’s shoulder and sagged against him. “Derec, if they made it int’ ‘yperspace, they could still be alive for centuries.”

  Derec was still considering that idea when Wolruf took a deep breath and stood up straight. “What’s done iss done. What we need t’ do now is figure out where we are.” She pushed off Derec, staggered over to the control console, and started punching buttons. As if in response, the normal cabin lighting returned, and the air recirculation fans kicked in with a buzz.

  “Internal environment restored,” the ship announced pleasantly. “Thank you for your patience.”

  Blinking as his eyes adjusted to the light, Derec put his hand on Wolruf’s shoulder and tried to turn her around. She shrugged it off. “What do you mean, figure out where we are?” he asked. “We jumped right on schedule.”

  “We jumped four seconds late,” she said without looking up, “an’ with th’ wrong calc’lations. We ‘ad the extra mass of th’ boardin’ party, an’ we lost ship’s mass in the fight.” She paused to punch a few more buttons and study the readouts. “No tellin’ ‘ow far off th’ jump was skewed.”

  Avery gently took Derec by the elbow and pulled him out of Wolruf’s way. “Anything we can do to help?”

  “Yeah.” She tweaked a control and brought the main viewscreen back to life. “Fix Mandelbrot an’ get ‘im down ‘ere. I need ‘im.”

  Derec scowled. “But —”

  “Come on, son.” Tugging Derec’s elbow again, Avery began to steer him toward the lift. “Robot’s Rules of Order Number I: Never argue with the pilot until you’re back on the ground.” The lift doors hissed open.

  “But —”

  “Mandelbrot needs you.” Derec seemed to accept that argument, at least long enough for Avery to get him into the lift.

  The doors hissed shut, and they started up.

  Chapter 17

  JANET

  CENTRAL’S ONE RED eye flared on the moment Dr. Anastasi entered the atrium. “Working.” The massive brain’s voice was oddly flat and toneless, although Janet thought she detected a vaguely feminine inflection and the incongruous clacking of relays in the background.

  “Good morning, Central,” Janet said pleasantly, as if speaking to a small child. “Are we feeling well today?”

  “Feeling does not compute.”

  Dr. Anastasi’s eyes went wide. Slowly, as if expecting at any moment to see the “Celebrity Practical Jokes” camera robot step out of hiding, she turned to Basalom and arched an eyebrow. “Did I miss something?”

  “Checking, madam.” Basalom activated his internal commlink and patched into the city maintenance system. A moment later, he had his answer. “Central’s personality module is temporarily off-line for repairs. Its numeric computational powers and cerebellar functions are — I quote the technicians’ report —’unimpaired.’”

  “No editorial comments, please.”

  “Sorry, madam.” Something that sounded ever so slightly like a snicker escaped from Basalom’s speech membrane. Dr. Anastasi chose to let it pass... Central is currently operating in absolute literal mode,” Basalom added. “I advise using extreme caution in your choice of words.”

  “Oh.” Janet looked at Central’s console input/output device again. “Are you trying to tell me that arguing with Central would be a complete waste of time?”

  “It depends on how you define’ waste, ‘madam.” The sound Basalom emitted this time was without question a snicker. “You might find it extremely amusing!” He turned his head and brought a hand up to his face, as if trying to pretend that his sputtered laugh was a sneeze.

  Frowning, Janet nodded slowly. “I might.” Then she looked up and smiled, as if she’d just been struck by a particularly good idea. “Oh, and Basalom dear, could you add something to my calendar?”

  Basalom bowed deeply. “Of course, mistress. Your wish is my command!”

  “One of my robots has been acting quite strangely lately. When we get back to the ship, remind me to remove his brain and either fix it —” Her smile vanished, and her tone shifted to a low-pitched growl. “— or scrap it!”

  Basalom straightened up in the way that only a being with picosecond reflexes can. “Yes, madam.”

  “That’s better. Now for the matter at hand.” She turned to Central’s I/O console. “Central, where is Beta?”

  “Working.” A short flurry of mechanical beeps came out, followed by something surprisingly like teletype noise. “City Supervisor 3... is at present in Conference Room 32.”

  “Why?”

  More clacking. “The meeting in which City Supervisor 3 is participating... has not yet concluded.”

  “What meeting?”

  Clack clack clack. “City Planning Meeting 1042-dash-A.”

  Janet frowned at Basalom. “Absolute literal mode, huh?” Blinking nervously, Basalom nodded.

  A scowl darkened Janet’s face. “Not good,” she said to herself. “I explicitly ordered Beta to meet me here at this time. The Second Law should have compelled him to leave his meeting in time to make it here. Unless...

  “Central! Are there other humans in this city?”

  Clack clack pause ding! “Ne-ga-tive.”

  Janet ran a hand through her long blond hair and paused to scratch her head. “So where the deuce is Beta?”

  Clack clack. “City Supervisor 3... is at present in Conference Room 32.”

  Janet glared at the big red eye. “Central? Shut up.”

  “I must be opened before I can be shut.”

  Janet’s eyes flashed wide open, while her jaws and fists clamped tight. “Central!” Then she caught control of herself. “Oh, for —”

  Basalom’s linear predictive module was still active. All his systems jumped to alert status as he anticipated what Dr. Anastasi was about to say.

  “— get —”

  His mylar eyelids started fluttering like a hummingbird’s wings. Ramming a statement through his First Law filter, he pushed it into his speech buffer and set for dump.

  “— it.”

  “No!” Basalom blurted out, a nanosecond too late.

  “Forgetting,” Central said. There were beeps and clacks, and the red eye went black.

  A moment later, it flared to life again. “Working.”

  Janet closed her eyes, gritted her teeth, and concentrated on slow, calm breathing.

/>   When she opened her eyes again, a new robot had joined her and Basalom in the atrium. “Good morning, Dr. Anastasi,” the robot said politely. “I am City Supervisor 12. You may find it more convenient to address me as Gamma.”

  Janet broke into a smile and nearly gave the robot a hug. “Gamma! I never thought I’d be happy to see your ugly can again.”

  The robot seemed puzzled. “Madam?”

  She stepped back, put her hands on her hips, and looked him over. “Say, looks like you’ve been in for maintenance. Nice chrome job on the mesothorax there.”

  “Thank you. But, madam, I believe that you are mistaking me for another robot. We have never met before.”

  Basalom stepped in before Janet could react. “Madam,” he whispered, “this is Gamma 6. The unit we knew was Gamma 5.”

  “Correct,” Gamma said. “Gamma 5 was... lost. While I am functionally identical to my predecessor, I do not retain Five’s onboard personal-events memory.”

  “Lost? How can you lose a robot?” Janet wrinkled her nose and then shook her head. “No, I don’t want to know. What I want to know is, where-no, make that, why isn’t Beta here?”

  “Beta is participating in a critical city planning meeting,” Gamma said. “I came in Beta’s place.”

  Janet shook her head again. “Wrong answer. I gave Beta an explicit order to meet me here at this time. Now, the only thing that could have overridden that was a First Law imperative to protect a human from harm. Since I’m the only human in this city, there’s no way —” Janet froze in mid-sentence and her face paled. “Gamma? Is there something here that’s a threat to me?”

  “Nothing with a probability incidence greater than one in ten to the twenty-seventh power.”

  “The odds of your being struck by a falling meteorite,” Basalom whispered.

  “Then if it isn’t a First Law priority...?”

  “The First Law is not the only priority. There is also our general programming, which has priority over non-critical explicit Second Law orders. We are impelled to prepare our city for use, so that it can serve and protect large numbers of human beings. This in turn has led us to conclude that the First Law is not the ultimate priority,” Gamma announced. He continued while Janet was still in shock. “In our studies of the Laws, we have concluded that there is an unwritten but more fundamental priority, which for want of a better term we call the Zeroth Law. This law holds that the interests of humanity in general outweigh the interests of a particular individual. Beta’s decision to miss this meeting was rooted in a Zeroth Law priority.”