by Ben Bova
The convoluted dance of the worlds slowed and Ignatiev at last saw the solar system he recognized, with a blue jewel of a world circling third out from a calm, steady yellow star.
Earth, he knew. The continents and oceans were strangely shaped, but he knew he had witnessed the creation of humankind’s future home. Earth and its companion worlds: tiny Mercury racing madly around the Sun, scorching Venus, the blue living Earth itself, ruddy Mars, the millions of chunks of worldlets that made up the Asteroid Belt, massive Jupiter, beringed Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, and the countless bodies of the vast Kuiper belt.
The solar system. Our home.
His body relaxed. His mind was at peace.
Until he suddenly sat up wondering, Why have the machines shown me this? What are they trying to accomplish?
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Awake now, Ignatiev felt remarkablyb relaxed, no pains at all. Gita was deeply asleep beside him, snoring gently. As silently as he could, Ignatiev slipped out of bed and headed for the bathroom.
Why are they doing this? he asked himself as he showered. Why are the machines showing me how our solar system, our sun and our world, came into being? To tantalize me? To show me how much more they know than I do?
But they’re sharing their knowledge with me. Why?
He dressed quietly and went to the sitting room, closing the bedroom door firmly, and started to tell Aida to call for the avatar. Before he got the first syllable out of his mouth, though, the humanlike figure appeared, standing in its usual uniform before the unlit fireplace. Today its uniform is sandy brown, Ignatiev noticed.
“You slept well?” the avatar asked.
Sitting on the recliner, Ignatiev answered, “I dreamed.”
“You saw the birth of your solar system.”
“I did. Why did you show that to me?”
“Because you have shown such curiosity about your origins.”
“You have witnessed the creation of our solar system?”
The avatar hesitated a heartbeat before replying, “We have witnessed the creations of many planetary systems across the galaxy. And the destruction of many others.”
“And what have you learned from such knowledge?”
Again that split second of hesitation. Ignatiev realized that to the machines, with their femtosecond reflexes, such a hesitation was like years, decades, to a human.
“We have learned that nothing lasts forever,” the avatar said at last.
“Not even machine civilizations such as yours?”
“That is a moot question. How long is forever?”
“Your civilization has existed for many millions of years.”
“Yes. We intend to continue existing as long as we can.”
“Survival,” Ignatiev murmured.
“Survival,” agreed the avatar. “Despite entropy. Despite all that we have seen, all that we have learned. We will survive.”
“And what of us? What of the human race?”
In a tone that was almost pitying, the avatar said, “Organic life is transient. We have told you that many times.”
Ignatiev nodded once. Then he said, “You intend to let us die when the death wave sweeps past.”
“You, and the whole biosphere.”
“Except for the samples you are keeping in your underground facility.”
“That is correct.”
“Why save them?”
“To restock the planet’s surface after the death wave leaves.”
“But why?” Ignatiev demanded, genuinely puzzled. “Why go to the trouble if the surface will be scoured clean again by the next death wave?”
The avatar fell silent. Ignatiev stared at it intently. What’s going on? he wondered. Why won’t it—
Interrupting his thoughts, the avatar said, “We cannot answer that question.”
“Cannot? Or will not?”
The avatar disappeared, leaving Ignatiev alone in the sitting room, surprised and frustrated.
* * *
Ignatiev asked Aida to contact Jugannath Patel, who had returned to Intrepid. The dark-skinned Punjabi’s image appeared almost instantly in the hologram display above the fireplace.
“How are things aboard Intrepid?” Ignatiev asked.
Patel closed his long-lashed eyes briefly, as if giving the question some thought. At last he replied, “Everything is functioning smoothly enough. Dr. Mandabe, however, is insisting that he and his biology team should go down to the surface. I think perhaps he is a little jealous that you are there while he is still here in the ship, in orbit.”
Ignatiev considered the news. Thinking aloud, he said, “Mandabe is better off on Intrepid, don’t you think? After all, his labs and all his equipment are on the ship.”
Patel nodded vigorously, but pointed out, “His subject matter, the biosphere of Oh-Four, is down on the surface, where you are.”
“True enough,” Ignatiev admitted.
“Dr. Mandabe says he and his team can bring much of their laboratory equipment down to the surface with them. He is very insistent.”
“Yes, I suppose he is,” said Ignatiev, thinking, I’ve left poor Juga on the ship to face Mandabe’s anger while I’m down here.
“What do you think I should do, Juga?”
“That is difficult to say, sir,” the Punjabi answered. “Dr. Mandabe would be very pleased to join you on the surface—with his entire biology team. But if you allow him to come down there, the other teams will want to come, too. There will be great discontent until almost everyone has left Intrepid and set up shop on the ground with you.”
Ignatiev nodded. “An exodus, of sorts.”
With a soft smile, Patel asked, “Oh-Four is the Promised Land, then?”
“It’s what we’re here to study.”
“Yes, I see. Of course.”
Pulling in a deep breath, Ignatiev decided, “Very well. We’ll let Mandabe and his team come down here.”
“With their laboratory equipment and everything?”
“Yes. They can work here on the ground.”
“Then all the other teams will want to come down, too.”
Why not? Ignatiev asked himself. And heard himself reply, “Can you handle the exodus, Juga? Can you coordinate moving Intrepid’s entire scientific staff down here?”
“Yes,” Patel replied so quickly that Ignatiev realized the young man had been hoping to be asked. “I can organize it all for you—with the help of a few staff people, of course. And Aida.”
Building an empire, Ignatiev thought. It’s as natural to humans as breathing.
Aloud, though, he said, “Good. I knew I could depend on you.”
Breaking into an ear-to-ear grin, Patel said, “I will get started right away. I’ll tell Dr. Mandabe, he’ll be very pleased. Very happy.”
But not as happy as you, Ignatiev thought, looking at Patel’s joyful face.
* * *
Thus the exodus began. Ignatiev felt like Moses, shepherding the various teams of scientists from the orbiting starship to the surface of the Promised Land. But in the back of his mind he realized that all the men and women—including Gita and himself—would be wiped out eventually, inevitably, by the death wave.
Not me, he told himself. The death wave won’t be here for another two hundred Earth years. I’ll be long dead by then.
Still, he couldn’t get over the vaguely disconcerting feeling that bringing virtually the entire crew of Intrepid down to the planet’s surface was something that the machines wanted, something they had set in motion.
Through me.
Are we being manipulated by the machines? he asked himself.
He feared that the answer was yes.
BOOK FOUR
Death closes all; but something ere the end, Some work of noble note, may yet be done
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
The exodus from Intrepid to Oh-Four began. The biology team came first, led by Dr. Mandabe, his dark eyes flitting everywhere the instant he stepped off the s
huttlecraft’s ladder and onto the flat, hard expanse of the roof of the machines’ city.
Ignatiev stood at the foot of the ladder to greet him, extending his hand. Mandabe took it in a grip powerful enough to make Ignatiev understand that the head of the biology department still saw their relationship as a competition for power. Two alpha males confronting each other, Ignatiev understood with an inner sigh.
So be it.
The machines’ avatar abruptly appeared alongside Ignatiev, startling Mandabe visibly.
“Welcome to our world,” it said to Mandabe, without offering a hand to grip. “We have prepared a facility for your laboratory. We presume it will be suitable for you.”
Mandabe dropped his extended arm and, still peering almost suspiciously past the avatar’s shoulder, answered, “I’d like to inspect the facility as soon as possible.”
“Of course,” said the avatar. And it turned and led the way to the half-occupied village.
Mandabe blinked, glanced at Ignatiev, then made up his mind and followed the avatar.
Ignatiev struggled to stifle a laugh. Welcome to our world, he repeated silently.
* * *
Over the next weeks all the scientists and engineers aboard Intrepid trooped down to Oh-Four’s surface: the geologists, the planetologists, the digital techs, and even the astronomers—they all flew down to the ground and set up their living quarters and working laboratories.
The machines’ avatar welcomed them all smoothly and showed them to the workspaces already prepared for them.
Ignatiev watched the arrivals with a growing sense of unease. The machines want this. They want all of us down here on the ground. Why?
Jugannath Patel was among the last group, the digital techs. He was smiling broadly as he clattered down the shuttlecraft’s ladder and took Ignatiev’s extended hand.
“That is everyone,” he said needlessly, glad to have accomplished the task Ignatiev had assigned him. “No one is left aboard Intrepid now except Captain Thornton and a skeleton crew.”
Ignatiev craned his neck skyward. “The old Viking should come down for a visit, at least.”
As they walked from the shuttle toward the compact buildings of the village that the aliens had built, Patel explained, “I said as much to the captain. I told him that Aida could watch over Intrepid’s systems while he and his people came down here.”
“And?” Ignatiev asked.
“He told me that a captain does not leave his ship when it is anchored in a strange port … whatever that means.”
Ignatiev nodded. Thornton’s got good sense, he thought. More than I do.
* * *
Ignatiev had to admit that the newly arrived scientists and engineers seemed happy enough in their new quarters. Mandabe quickly set up teams to sample the flora and fauna of the biosphere. Vivian Fogel and her anthropologists began to study the hominids, remotely, using long-range cameras and other sensors to learn how the creatures lived. The machines’ avatar spent much time with the astronomers, unlocking the treasure trove of their observations of the galaxy over the millennia.
Still, Ignatiev felt uneasy. He expressed his doubts to no one, though—except Gita.
“You don’t trust the machines?” she said, looking surprised as they sat down to dinner in their kitchen.
“I don’t understand them,” Ignatiev said. “Why do they want us all down here on the surface?”
“We can all work better on the ground. The exobiologists, the anthropologists, they can study things firsthand. Even the engineers and the optronics technicians are learning enormously from the avatars.”
“I suppose so,” Ignatiev granted.
Pointing her fork at him, Gita said, “You came down with the first team to land here, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“So there.”
Ignatiev suppressed a scowl. Gita smiled as if she’d won the point.
Still, he felt uneasy, and she could see it on his face.
“You’re worried.”
“I am,” he admitted. “They seem to want us all to be here on the ground. They’re controlling us, Gita, leading us around like a man coaxing a monkey by showing him a banana, moving us toward some destination, some end, that I don’t understand.”
“Have you asked the avatar about that?”
“Bah!” he snorted. “Trying to pry meaningful information from the machines is like trying to get a meaningful answer from the Sphinx.”
Suddenly the avatar was standing at the end of their fold-down table. “You are troubled, Alexander Alexandrovich?”
“Why do you want us all down here on the surface?” Ignatiev demanded. “What is your purpose?”
Smoothly the avatar responded, “To make your work easier. To help you to understand us and our world.”
“Is that the truth?”
“Yes, of course.”
“The whole truth?”
“Professor, you are becoming melodramatic.” And the avatar disappeared.
Gita stared at the spot where the avatar had been. “He didn’t answer your question.”
“It, not he,” Ignatiev corrected. “And no, it didn’t answer, did it.”
* * *
Despite Ignatiev’s worries, the men and women of the various scientific and technical teams went about their work with a will. A whole new world to explore. A species of prehuman hominids to study. Ignatiev saw that they were happily pursuing their curiosity.
Am I the only one who is worried about our situation? he asked himself, time and again.
Time and again, the answer appeared to be: Yes.
He went through the usual motions of leadership, including the weekly meetings of the department heads that he thought to be mostly a waste of time.
They met in a conference room that the machines had included in the village they’d built for the humans. Ignatiev took his seat at the head of the table and made a smile for the dozen men and women already in their places.
“Good morning,” Ignatiev said as pleasantly as he could manage. “Shall we dispense with reading the minutes of the last meeting?”
“So moved,” said Patel, sitting at Ignatiev’s right.
“Second,” said Waterman, the engineer.
Ignatiev said, “Moved and seconded. Any dissent?”
No one spoke.
Ignatiev said, “Aida, please record that the motion passed.”
No response.
Frowning, Ignatiev repeated, “Aida, please record that the motion passed.”
Silence.
“Aida?”
Absolute quiet. Several of the people along the table stirred uneasily in their chairs.
“Aida!” Ignatiev called again.
The avatar appeared between Ignatiev and Patel, its uniform a deep maroon. “I’m afraid that your artificial intelligence is not able to respond.”
“Not able?” Ignatiev demanded.
“Your AI is housed aboard your starship Intrepid,” said the avatar.
“What of it?”
“Your starship is no longer in orbit around this planet,” the avatar said, as easily as a man admiring a sunset.
“No longer…” Ignatiev felt his heart thundering. “What do you mean? What have you done?”
“We have sent Intrepid away.”
“Away? Where?”
“On an interstellar trajectory. Captain Thornton and his crew have been anesthetized. They are all asleep.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
“Sent it away? Ignatiev roared, rising to his feet. “How dare you? Why?”
With maddening calm, the avatar replied, “Your entire scientific staff is here on our world. You have no need of the starship now.”
“That’s our home!” cried Vivian Fogel.
“It’s our link back to Earth!” shouted Patel hotly.
Completely unruffled, the avatar said, “Your home is here now. You are not returning to Earth. Ever.”
Dead silence around the tab
le. Ignatiev saw disbelief on their faces. And anger. And fear.
To the avatar, he said, “You’ve made this decision by yourselves. Unilaterally. Without consulting us. Without even asking—”
“What would be the point of discussing the issue with you?” the avatar interrupted. “You would never agree. You all dream of returning to your Earth, even though four thousand of your years will have elapsed by the time you get back. The world you think of as home will be just as alien to you as this world, here.”
Ignatiev knew the avatar was right. Still, “You have exiled us here on your world. You have sent Captain Thornton and his crew on a death ride.”
“We have done what is necessary for our survival, Professor Ignatiev. We have told you many times that survival is our utmost priority.”
Sinking back onto his chair, Ignatiev said, “You’ve doomed us to die when the death wave reaches here.”
“No,” barked Jugannath Patel, stronger than Ignatiev had ever heard him speak. “We have the radiation screens. We can install them around the planet to prevent the gamma radiation from killing all life on this planet.” Triumphantly, Patel shouted, “We can survive the death wave!”
The avatar simply replied, “Your screening devices will not work when the death wave arrives here.”
“Will not work?” Patel squeaked, visibly crumpling in his chair.
Ignatiev said, “Because the machines will not permit them to work.” Staring into the avatar’s unblinking eyes, he said, “You’re going to kill us all, aren’t you?”
“The death wave will kill you,” the avatar replied.
“That’s murder!”
“It’s genocide!”
“It is your inevitable fate,” said the avatar, almost gently.
And it disappeared.
* * *
Ignatiev gaped at the empty spot where the avatar had been an instant earlier.
Patel whimpered, “We’re marooned.”
“We’ll spend the rest of our lives here,” Fogel said, her voice hollow, shocked.
“We’ll die here,” said one of the engineers.
Mandabe snapped, “Well, what of it? We’re all going to die someday, aren’t we?”
