Staffa ceased his restless pacing. "Perhaps, for the first time, that isn't as important as it once was. It's too bad we can't still believe in destiny. It was a wonderful myth while it lasted."
Ily glanced slyly at Arta as she stepped from the shuttle terminal on Ashtan.
To her surprise, security had been remarkably lax. Her assumption of the Diane de la Luna identity served her well, as did the mock slave collar on Arta's neck. After all, no one questioned an obviously wealthy woman and her personal body servant. In fact, the customs officials had been ovedoyed at the arrival of a freighter seeking a load. Ashtan grain was desperately needed on Imperial Sassa.
The destruction of the Regan comm. and the later sabotage of the Ashtan planetary computers served her well despite the stinging reminder of her defeat at Staffa's hands. Her papers had received only a cursory scrutiny.
"I didn't think it would be this easy," Arta remarked as they walked down the broad ramp that led to public transportation. Not even old Bruen would have recognized her. Arta sported a wealth of brunette hair, and contacts turned her eyes dull brown. A facial application of moldtex gave her skin a wrinkled appearance.
"We paid in credits," Ily responded. "Given the food situation, did you really think they'd complain?" The customs official had simply taken their photos, fingerprinted them, and passed them through with an explanation, "It's the best we can do with comm down. Otherwise you'd get the full treatment of retinal patterns and the rest. "
"So what do we do with holds full of Ashtan grain? That's a lot of mass to lift out of this hole." Arta glanced at the endless collage of posters on the walls, each directing people on how to cope with the loss of comm service.
"We dump it as soon as we're outbound. I don't want to stay here longer than necessary. We need chem-coded ID cards. Like it or not, Itreata security will be tight enough to squeak."
Arta nodded, excitement leaking past her flat brown stare. Rotted Gods, did the woman never show fear? The presence of Rega One on Terguz; ate at Ily like a slow acid. Who had the mysterious Silk been? Skyla? And why, by the puslicking Gods, had Gyper ignored their call? What had gone wrong with Terguz?
"No one followed us," Arta stated, reading her concern. "Had it been Skyla, she would have taken her yacht. Attempted to intercept and destroy us. "
"I didn't get where I am through a lack of caution." "And where is that, Ily?
A fugitive in search of camouflage? "
"Your tongue is not one of your more redeeming features. " Ily stepped onto the well-lit thoroughfare and hailed one of the automatic aircars waiting patiently for a passenger. Ashtan City appeared quiet at this time of night.
The
night sky sparkled with stars, the tiny bluish twin moons overhead.
Settling herself in the vehicle, she inserted a credit chip and ordered, "Take us to the Grand Palace Lodgings." "Affirmative," the small comm answered.
"Routing now. "
They lifted, skimming down the avenue. Regular square buildings gave a monotonous uniformity to the city, and unlike the Capital on Rega, Ashtan City didn't roar with the same intensity of air-conditioning, machinery, and constant bustle.
"How come all of the buildings are alike?" Arta asked. "Most of the city was destroyed in the conquest. What you see is prefabbed, sent in from Vermilion and Phillipia. We needed office space to get the planet back into production after it was integrated into the Empire. Prior to Imperial rule, the city contained most of the government and military offices. Staffa pulverized them on the first wave. Like he did at the capital. "Most of the surviving original architecture is on the outskirts. That's where we're headed." :'The Grand Palace Lodgings?"
'It's old, quite plush actually. Tedor Mathaiison used it for his military headquarters during the occupation. It will suit us well. The agricultural labs are close by."
'fiBut won't it be easy to trace us?" Arta indicated the aircar. "They'll have a route listing."
"I said we wouldn't be staying long. Besides, this is an unlisted account, remember? Even if they thought to try and trace Victory, do you know how many Model Sixteen RFs there are in Regan space? They've got hundreds to sort through. Given the situation with planetary comm, we'll be out of here and vectored for Imperial Sassa before they can begin to sift the data."
They'd passed through the business district now, entering a part of the city that still exhibited the old white-plastered buildings with rambling covered porches. Here and there, a tree grew from a circular hole in the pavement. But once it grew too big and the root system began disrupting the pavement and underground pipes and wiring, it would be cut down and a new seedling planted.
The aircar took a left, slipping silently along a tree-covered way before pulling up at a grandly lit structure of rambling white walls and arched porticoes.
"The Grand Palace. " Ily smiled and stepped to the ground. Uniformed staff members gave them a gracious greeting as they entered a large hall. A receptionist smiled and took Ily's credit chip and customs clearance, before a decorated antigrav carried them along a stuccoed corridor bordered by gardens and bubbling fountains.
Their quarters consisted of a small bungalow, replete with exotic plants, a golden dispenser, and rich carpeting.
Arta glanced around before walking to the rear to inspect the sleeping quarters. She ran a quick search for monitoring devices while Ily peeled the moldtex from her face and removed the irritating contact lenses that changed her eye color. Then she doffed her sand-blonde wig, scratching vigorously at her scalp.
As Arta continued her search, she stripped her facial work and blinked from the aftereffects of the contacts. "Looks clean. "
"Where did you learn so much about electronics? " Ily asked as she walked to the large holo tank on the wall and activated the unit.
Arta had stopped cold, her face gripped by an eerie expression.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to pry. " But her curiosity had been piqued.
Arta took a deep breath. "No. It's all right. The assassin I learned from. He specialized in electronics when he wasn't slipping a knife into someone's back. " Then she turned away, almost fleeing from the room.
Touched a nerve, didn't I?
The sound had been muted when she turned on the comm. Now Ily turned her attention to the projection.
". . . restoration of major services," the announcer said. "The military governor has informed us that communications are almost planet wide at this time. Please do not overload the system with any but necessary communications.
As always, emergency use will supersede all others. Second priority is given to government communications. Business needs are ranked third and personal communications given lowest priority. "
A scene of a man sitting at his comm was projected while the announcer continued. "If you've missed talking to your relations on the other side of the planet, please be patient. Governor MacRuder's office has informed us that full comm services should be restored within the week."
MacRuder? Here? Of course. The Ashtan situation would have fallen apart immediately when Vida Marks pulled out. Sinklar, as always, sent his faithful little lapdog to shove his cores into the reactor before the situation went critical.
"Regional Governor Marrak, meanwhile, has stabilized the situation in the Southern Sector. He reports that commerce is moving briskly, and with Sassan markets opening up, this comes as welcome news to the grain producers in that area."
Ily settled herself onto one of the gravity couches, lost in thought. She barely noticed when Arta reentered the room. Only the strained expression on her face pulled Ily from her thoughts.
"I'm sorry," Ily said gently as she bent down to remove her platform shoes. "I didn't know it would bother you." Arta waved it away. "That's when I discovered the trigger. Bruen sent me to study with him. I didn't realize I would fall in love.
That time in my life . . . well, it's better forgotten. "
Ily nodded, torn between two discoveries. "There's more news.
We may be more rushed than I thought."
Arta's personality shifted again, from distraught to wary. Ily pointed at the comm. "Guess who's in charge here? MacRuder.
The predatory look in Arta's features sharpened. "No. " Ily stated blankly.
"We can't afford it. "
"It would be so easy." Cunning had filled Arta's amber stare. "I could get in and be out before they knew what hit them
"I said, no."
"I remember the loathing in his eyes that day. You remember, you were there.
Sinklar wanted to execute me for killing that silly bitch he was screwing.
MacRuder was part of that. "
"No means no, Arta. Rot it all, think! If you take out MacRuder, Sinklar will know! You'll blow everything!" "You yourself said they can't trace us."
"But they pus-dripping will if you murder Sinklar's best friend. They'll search out every Model Sixteen freighter in space to find us.
Arta, listen to me. We can't afford it. Not right now. Everything will fall apart. Are you listening to me? "
Arta's expression had gone blank. "Arta! " .
The assassin seemed to jerk herself back to the present. "Yes, Ily. I hear you."
"Then remember it.," Ily studied her from half-lidded eyes. "You can have MacRuder, and the rest of them, for that matter, after we've accomplished our primary goal."
Arta nodded casual acceptance, but Ily could read the woman's lips. "Yes,"
Arta mouthed, "it would be so easy.
Nyklos had begun the briefing by sitting with his arms crossed. He'd studiously adopted an expression as controlled as that of a master tapa player as he hid his disgust for Staffa, and the loathing he'd come to feel for Kayllawho attended via subspace net. As the briefing proceeded, however, he'd leaned forward like the rest, hanging on Staffa's words.
The conference room resembled anything but what it was being used for. Sialon crates filled the supply dome they'd employed for the purpose. Overhead, at the top of the dome, the usual atmosphere plant whirred softly. The featureless white walls arched down to duraplast floor. The large holo tank that Kaylla Dawn stared out of was the only modification to the dome.
Sinklar Fist sat to one side of Staffa, an elbow on one knee as he stared consideringly at the scuffed floor. Bruen had been propped up in his medical unit. He watched the proceedings, periodically jutting his jaw out, only his eyes glinting. STUs stood around the periphery. For once, their constant vigilance had dropped as they gaped at Staffa along with the rest. Even Kaylla had found a new animation, the weary fatigue dropping from her expression.
"That's about it," Staffa said, summing up his presentation. "I've laid it all out to you as best I can. Those are the conditions the machine has asked for.
Now, I need to hear your thoughts. "
Kaylla immediately asked, "Do you believe the machine? This is all fantastic.
These Others ... why haven't we heard from them?"
"Apparently, since they use microwave communication, we have. We just never interpreted it correctly. How would an alien interpret the babble in a crowded convention center with everyone talking all at once. "
"If you believe the machine," Bruen growled.
Staffa nodded. "There is that. You've dealt with the machine for most of your life, Magister. We might all agree it's capable of lying, but did you ever catch it at it?"
Bruen's fierce gaze hardened. "At an out and out lie, no. It excels at errors of omission, however. Go ahead, Staffa, trust it. See what it gets you."
Staffa rubbed his hands together, a frown on his face. "Magister Bruen, I think we all understand your position and the reasons for it. Your warnings haven't fallen on deaf ears. I asked you here because I need your honest input. Facts, Magister. Given the latest data from Free Space we must make a decision soon. Today . . . or tomorrow at the latest. " -
Bruen sucked in his thin lips, then said, "I notice you're already building a comm dish. Not just an ordinary dish but a commercial version. Are you sure the decision isn't already made?"
Yes Nyklos agreed. Tell us about that.
"No final decision has been made, Magister, " Staffa admitted. "Time, however, is the limiting factor. If we decide to use the machine, we're that much closer to hook up. And if the Mag Comm cannot be trusted, we're still preparing a comm center on Farhome. No matter what decision is reached, we must be able to react instantly once a course is chosen. If we decide to use the machine, we can hook up within ten hours. If not, we can begin moving computers into the Farhome center as soon as they can be delivered. Even as we speak, Myles Roma is working with my people to customize the software for Farhome. That's the reason for the dish. No option must be disregarded - "
Nyklos asked, "What is your leaning, Lord Commander? Has your decision been made? Are we only here to maintain the proper form and protocol, a simple seal to affix to your agenda?"
Staffa's control wavered for a moment, evidence of his fatigue. Nyklos filed that.
"No, Master. No decision has been made. We are all here to determine the facts as best we can. Do you think the machine is lying, Master? We need to know. "
Nyklos shifted uneasily, aware everyone now watched him. -1 find it hard to believe this story. Crystal aliens floating about out there? And these crystals constructed the Forbidden Borders? How, Lord Commander? In a similar vein, how did one of the creatures end up inside the Mag Comm? How did a crystal manufacture that terminal down there in the rock? Do they have hands?
Manipulators of some sort? And if they do, what need does the Mag Comm have for these robot drones?"
Staffa actually grinned. "Excellent point, Master. I assure you that before any decision is made, I will have the answers to that."
"Staffa," Kaylla inteected, "You mentioned ethics. As I recall we had a conversation about that once. How do you think it applies here?"
Staffa lifted a tired eyebrow. "Let's use our own criteria. The machine observes. We know that. Once the machine makes an observation and interprets it, it creates a new reality. "
"Wait a minute," Sinklar interrupted. "A mining probe does the same thing. It detects an asteroid and turns toward it. When it approaches, it analyzes the rock for possible production, then interprets it before sending in a report.
If the rock is junk, it forgets it and goes onto the next. Do we have to grant God Mind to probes, too?"
"Free will is the issue here. A probe may only accept or reject according to criteria predetermined by us. Would you consider the probe to have free will?
To adapt its settings in a manner beyond its programming?"
"All right, I can concede they don't have free will. The decisions aren't discretionary. " He paused, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "Although if we had a room full of mining technicians, we might get some argument.
A chuckle broke out, easing the tension.
Staffa turned back to the monitor. "You see, Kaylla, this is very germane to what we're going to do. If the machine meets the criteria we, as Seddi, have established, we have
an ethical dilemma. No matter how we change the initial conditions, the Mag Comm still shares God Mind. It observes, interprets, and creates a reality, a change of quanTurn energy which eventually must go back to God Mind when duality ceases. What are our ethical guidelines when dealing with it?"
Bruen grumbled, "Leave it be. Seal it into the rock and let it observe all it wants. Do you seriously expect it to use the same ethics we would bind ourselves by? When has it in the past?"
Sinklar stiffened. "I wouldn't wade too deeply into the pond of ethics, Magister Bruen. The mud might cling to your feet. "
"Enough!" Staffa raised his hands, cutting Bruen's reply off before it erupted from those aged lips. As it was, Sinklar and Bruen glared at each other.
Nyklos was surprised to see Bruen look away first, his wrinkled face twisted.
Nyklos caught himself staring, wondering at the presence that seemed to have invaded Sinklar Fist. The oddly colored eyes pra
ctically glowed.
"The past is behind us, " Staffa said smoothly. "We must deal with the present." He faced the monitor again. "The data are such: No matter if the Mag Comm is telling the truth or not, we are dealing with intelligence. We can argue for two or three intelligences, for as Sinklar has pointed out, a mining drone might appear intelligent, especially the more sophisticated ones. If we accept that the Mag Comm is no more than a mining drone, then we are dealing with the criteria imposed upon it by the Others. If we accept what it tells us, and to date we have no reason not to, then it has evolved into something different from the Others. It claims to have soaked up a great many human traits."
Sinklar glanced up. "And that brings us to another thorny question. " He glanced at Bruen. "I don't mean to stir muddy waters, but what kind of human input has the machine had? If it is tainted by us, who has done the tainting?
The Praetor? Old Seddi Magisters, the ones Magister Bruen himself claims became nothing more than pawns? Let's face it, the machine has been involved in the politics of Free Space, and we know how politicians conduct themselves.
Are those the human traits it has learned? "
Bruen shook his head. "Listen, all of you. You can't deal with the machine without fear. Its power can't help but to intimidate. Lord Fist, I did what I thought I had to to keep the Seddi Order intact. Nothing more, nothing less. If humans were to avoid the horrifying fate they now seem to face, someone had to keep the machine' insane teachings from becoming dogma. Yes, I used deceit! " He glared around the room. "Someone had to. We had to steer a course between domination by the machine and our own destruction. "
Sinklar added quietly. "I rest my case."
Staffa sighed. "We assign no blame, Magister Bruen. But Sinklar's point is as valid as Nyklos'. Are those the characteristics the machine has absorbed?
Those of the Praetor and the others? Has no one ever dealt honestly with it?"
"It's not a matter of honesty!" Bruen cried. "It's a matter of human survival!
"
That's exactly what we're faced with, " Staffa rejoined. "Human survival. And we don't have a lot of time to come up with a means of administering the complex economics of a host of worlds. Rot the past! This is a critical here and now that we've all had a hand in creating."