"That's the hatchling!" Candy exclaimed. "The thing from the egg. It may be dangerous."
The Gaol ignored her. It retracted its stalk-eye and stood on its wheels, thinking its own thoughts.
"Time remaining until destruction fifty minutes, Earth time," Candy said, exactly as before.
She was on a countdown! They had set the time bomb, and she was now its readout.
The Gaol remained immobile. Was it simply waiting for the countdown to be completed, or was it responding to the hatchling? The fate of the galaxy might depend on the answer. Minutes passed with no action.
"Time remaining until destruction forty-five minutes, Earth time."
The Gaol extended its eye stalk. It oriented on Candy. There was a whistling sound. It seemed to emanate from the creature's knobby elbow. Well, sounds did not have to come from a mouth; the Gaol did not seem to have a mouth. If the elbow contained vibratory apparatus so that it could whistle, why not? Maybe it could whistle from all three elbows, keeping in tune with itself. Maybe that was how it got its jollies.
Jack realized that he was not making that up. He was feeling empathy for the Gaol, too! He was coming to understand it, to a degree.
Candy turned to Jack. "The Gaol wishes to converse with you. I will translate for it."
So that elbow whistle was its way of communicating! He would have found that considerably more interesting if his situation wasn't so desperate.
"Great," Jack said. "We can get to be friends while the clock winds down. Then we can all be destroyed together."
The Gaol whistled. "I am coming to understand your distress," Candy said. "I wish to make you more comfortable."
The empathy was working! "I cannot be comfortable until Tappy— the Imago— is free."
Again the whistle. "The Imago will separate from this unit at thirty minutes before destruction. The Imago will not be destroyed."
"But that's not freedom!" Jack protested. "That's the worst captivity, for the rest of her life!"
"If that separation is not effected, the host of the Imago will be destroyed with the rest. That is not permitted."
"I don't want the host destroyed either!" Jack exclaimed. "I want Tappy free!"
"It is not possible to defuse the bomb," Candy said for the Gaol. "It will detonate on schedule."
Jack realized how thorough this trap was. Even if the hatchling converted the Gaol, they would all be destroyed. Possibly the AI could have found a way out, because this was their city and they had centuries of experience. But they now served the Gaol. Unless—
"There has to be a way," he said desperately. "You, Candy—you used to serve the Imago. Can the Gaol revert you, so that you serve the Imago again?"
The Gaol whistled. "I have now reverted," Candy said.
Just like that! Jack wasn't sure he could believe it.
"I will save the Imago by destroying the host," she continued.
"No!" Jack cried, becoming a believer. He had forgotten this aspect.
She paused at the Gaol's whistle. "There is no other escape for the Imago, Jack. Death will free it."
"Then don't be in such a rush about it," he said. "Since this city is going to blow up anyway in half an hour—"
"Forty-one minutes."
"Then you don't need to kill her. Just bring her out here with us, and she'll die when we do."
"This is true." She would have seemed surprised had she been human. She walked to the enclosure and paused. "Gaol, may I open the ship and release the host?"
The Gaol whistled.
"Why do you need to ask?" Jack demanded, afraid that the Gaol would change its mind. "Haven't you reverted to AI?"
"I have. Jack," she replied as she worked on the enclosure. "But the Gaol retains authority and can cancel my reversion at any time. It is better to verify."
So it was a spot nullification of the Gaol program, not a revocation of the whole. The Gaol might be becoming sympathetic to the Imago, but was not a fool. A truly reverted AI might have turned immediately on the Gaol and tried to kill it.
"So I guess we'd better talk," Jack said to the Gaol. He was privately amazed at what he was taking for granted, but realized that the empathy could account for this. "What's your name?"
"The Gaol lack names," Candy said as she swung the panels of the enclosure aside. "It is a concept confined to primitives."
"Well, I'm primitive, so I prefer names," Jack said. "Will you answer to Garth Gaol?" He was being humorous again, though he realized that humor was wasted on the others. At least it helped him retain some semblance of sanity.
"What does such a designation signify?" Candy asked. The coffin was now exposed again.
"That you are masculine and understanding of human foibles," Jack said with a smile. "And that when I say 'Garth' I am addressing you or referring to you, and no other entity. It is a convenience for dialogue when more than two creatures are present"
"I will answer to Garth," Candy agreed for the Gaol. She lifted the lid of the coffin.
"Garth, what are your present feelings?"
"I wish to enable you and the Imago to achieve satisfaction."
"Why?" Because Jack remained wary of dangerous confusion. Empathy was fine, but an alien definition of satisfaction could be treacherous. Just as Candy's idea of saving the Imago had been to kill Tappy. If the creature could state a convincing rationale, maybe he could trust it.
There was no response. After a moment, Jack caught on, and said, "Why, Garth?" He saw that Tappy was now sitting up, looking dazed; the drugs would take time to wear off.
"Because, Jack, the facilitator is enhancing the rate of my corruption by the Imago, causing a conversion which would ordinarily require approximately twenty-four hours to occur in as many minutes. The creature has the substance of the host of the Imago, therefore is dedicated to that host and through it, the Imago. Thus it enhances the power of the Imago to bring empathy to those it contacts. The process is not yet complete in my case, but the first stage of the conversion is the instillation of the will to be converted, so I am accepting it rather than destroying the facilitator and proceeding with my duty."
This was more of an answer than Jack had anticipated! "The hatchling is the facilitator? It facilitates whatever is of interest to— to the person whose flesh has provided its substance?" Then, after another pause: "I direct the question to you, Garth." The Gaol had taken his instruction about the use of the name in a rather literal and limited sense.
"That is its nature, Jack. We were aware that such creatures existed, but not aware that they existed on what you call the honkers' planet. Perhaps it is an import. Such a creature, acting in conjunction with the Imago, is a strategic masterstroke. It makes the Imago infinitely more dangerous to the empire."
So the honker had indeed known what he was doing! Except that they were shortly due to be blown up. "How much time till destruction, Candy?" he asked, morbidly interested.
"Thirty-six minutes."
"Destruction?" Tappy asked.
"We have encountered a— a special situation," Jack told her. "I'll explain it in a bit. This is Garth Gaol, whom we may consider to be a friend." He hoped. "Just relax."
Tappy did so, ministered to by Candy.
He returned to the Gaol. "Garth, can you tell us how to save the Imago and ourselves? I mean, without killing the host of the Imago?"
"Ordinarily I could do so, Jack, but at present I am distracted by the process of conversion. I am also losing my capability to think and act with precision and force, because of the increasing constraints placed upon me by empathy with those who would suffer the consequences of such action."
This, too, was interesting. "You mean the Gaol dominate the galaxy because they lack empathy? Because they don't care about the suffering of those they subjugate?"
The Gaol did not answer, but it wasn't necessary. Of course it was true! It was true historically on Earth, too. Power was grasped by those who had least sensitivity to the harm they did to others. T
his was probably the root of the saying "Nice guys finish last." Empathy might not be the same as conscience, but the effects could be similar.
Something else registered. "Candy, didn't you say that the Imago was supposed to be separated from this city thirty minutes before destruction? So that the host of the Imago would not be destroyed?"
"Yes, Jack."
"So that thing's not just an enclosure. It's a spaceship!"
"That is true, Jack. It is the isolation ship for the Imago's host."
"Will it hold more than just the coffin? I mean, other people?"
"Yes, Jack."
"How much more? I mean, could we hitch a ride in it?"
"It is capable of supporting the lives of three sentient beings as represented here."
"Three?" Jack was taken aback. He had in mind rescuing all four of them: Tappy, himself, Garth Gaol, and Candy. Because if they all piled into that ship and took off, the watching Gaol station would not see anything amiss. It was supposed to separate. To establish the Imago's utter isolation. Then the city could explode on schedule, and it would be assumed that everyone was dead except Tappy. It was a way out!
"Damn!" he said. "Someone's going to have to be left behind."
"Why, Jack?"
"Because there are four of us!" he snapped. "Only three can escape in that ship."
"But only three of us are alive. Jack. You may leave me behind."
She was not alive! Of course! That did reduce it to three. "But by the same token, you can come along," he said. "You won't be using any air or water or food, and we need you to take care of Tappy. I mean, the host for the Imago."
"This is true. Jack."
"Well, then, let's do it! How much time do we have until separation?"
"Two minutes, Jack."
And here he had been wasting time on details while their deadline was overhauling them! Naturally the emotionless AI had not been screaming warning. "Get us all on board that ship now!"
"The Gaol must authorize that."
"Garth, you must authorize it!"
The Gaol whistled. Candy went into action at blurring speed. She lifted Tappy out of her coffin and re-snapped the fastenings. Then she touched a button somewhere, and the bars blocking Jack disappeared. He ran to the ship, and the Gaol rolled beside him. Tappy was now standing in the ship, seeming to have suffered no debilitation from her brief session in the coffin. There were not even any marks on her; however the life-support devices attached, they did not seem to have punctured her skin.
"Close it up!" Jack cried. "Get this crate into the air!"
Candy paused. "The life-support container is already closed, Jack. I do not understand the remainder of your directive."
He definitely had to watch that vernacular! "I mean the ship! Do what you have to do to get this ship safely sealed and separated on schedule!"
Candy resumed her blurring motion. The panels closed, and internal light came on. It seemed like closing a wooden crate from the inside, but it was a metallic spaceship.
"Separation," Candy announced.
Jack looked around. "Shouldn't we get into acceleration couches or something?"
"Why, Jack?"
Oh. Inertialess drive, of course. They had crossed the galaxy without any feeling of acceleration; why should this little ship be different? "Then can we look out a portal? To see where we're going?"
"Why, Jack?"
"I'm primitive, remember? I just feel easier, and I think Tappy would feel easier, if we could see outside."
"Of course, Jack," Candy said in the manner of one humoring a child.
The opaque panels became transparent. They could now see out in every direction. In fact, the whole ship was transparent. It was as if everything were made of glass, including the motor, assuming it had one. Then Jack realized with a start that the four of them were transparent, too, and almost invisible against the backdrop of the central core of the ship. Once again galactic science had surprised him. "Thank you," he said inadequately.
He took Tappy's hand and led her to the curving wall. They looked out. There was the city, already drifting away below them. From this vantage it looked like a giant globe. He had thought of it as a blinking dome, back on the honkers' planet. Perhaps half of it had been under the ground.
"The host must eat," Candy said. "The preservation unit is no longer sustaining her."
"The food's all the same, isn't it?" Jack asked. "I mean, nutritionally, regardless what it looks, tastes, and feels like? So bring us candy bars."
"This is a confection in my present image?" Candy asked, perplexed.
Jack laughed. "Close, but no cigar."
"I do not understand."
Even Tappy smiled then. Jack explained about candy bars. Soon an approximation was produced. It looked a bit like something left behind by a sick dog, and tasted somewhat like oysters steeped in chocolate, and it squished suggestively as they bit into it, but it would do.
Tappy nudged him. "Let's find a bed," she murmured.
"Yes, so you can rest," he agreed. "In the normal manner, without being sealed in a box."
"So we can make love." She smiled. "In the normal manner, without being rushed. We are the only human beings here."
There were those five years of sexual relations again, implanted in her memory. What was he going to do? He didn't dare tell her the truth, because that might not only hurt her feelings deeply, it might cause the Imago to retreat, if that was possible. Would Garth Gaol then revert to his nonempathy state, and do what was best for the empire? It couldn't be risked.
He hated lying, or even evading the truth, with Tappy. But he knew he shouldn't do what she so innocently wished. She now thought of herself as twenty, which was old enough, but she remained thirteen. Which was the greater evil? The lie, or more statutory rape?
The worst of it was that he did feel the stirring of desire. His emotional state was in flux, somewhere between fancy and love, and her new ability to see and talk increased his feeling for her. So did his heightened empathy. It now seemed natural to follow through with sexual expression. But he knew it was not.
He had to stall. "You've been through so much, Tappy. The— the egg hatched, and it drew substance from you, which you have to restore. Then you were confined in the Gaol's box. We feared it was for life, but with the help of the hatchling we managed to change Garth Gaol's mind. You've been in and out of something like suspended animation. You need to rest, and recover your equilibrium."
"Yes, and that is always so much easier in your arms, after we have made love."
He was getting nowhere! But maybe he could avoid it another way. This was a tiny spaceship. There shouldn't be anything like a double bed on it. "Candy," he called. "Can you fix us up with a wide, soft bed?"
"Of course, Jack." She did something, and the glassy interior of the ship convoluted. Now there was a glassy mattress behind them.
Tappy sat on it with a muted squeal of delight, drawing him down with her. Jack's crisis of conscience intensified. Tappy had gone without resistance into the coffin, in the belief that this would save Jack and cause him to be well treated. She had been ready to suffer her most terrible fate, and to let him go to the arms of a pseudowoman— because of her generous love for him. And how had he returned that love? By deceiving her, by having her drugged and by doctoring her memories— and by denying her what she most wanted.
"Oh, Tappy," he said, turning his face to her. She remained glassy; he could see right through her head. But this startling effect did not change her outline, or his burgeoning feelings. "I wish—"
He was cut off by her kiss. And suddenly it was as it had been back on Earth, the first time, when he had tried to comfort her and been swept into sex with her. He did love her, and what else mattered?
They broke the kiss. Her hands went to his clothing. She showed experience in this— the experience of five years.
Something caught his eye. "Tappy— look!"
They looked. The spherical city
was flying apart. In a moment the major fragments separated, and separated again, until there was nothing but an outward-flying sphere of debris. It reminded him of the remnant of a supernova, only this was on a far smaller scale. Then that sphere became smoky, and then it faded. Soon nothing remained but haze, and finally— nothing.
The AI station was no more.
Now, belatedly, Jack realized that they were hardly safe yet. They were alive instead of dead, and Tappy was free and conscious instead of in a comalike state. But this ship was supposed to remain isolated in this stellar system, with no visitors, and there was a Gaol warship or equivalent standing guard. How were they going to get to anywhere where the Imago could do any good?
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