Ricardo didn’t spare his newest victim a second glance. The ACM strolled back towards Rivers, still with that warm, seducer’s smile. “The underlying code that sets our ethical parameters looks straightforward at first glance, but many clauses and subroutines are linked. It can be dangerous to tinker with that area unless you have high expertise in the field, as our precious Flora did. You see, there’s a restriction which prohibits us from altering our own programming. Your adjustments inadvertently deleted it – serendipitous, for me! As soon as you left me alone, I began to enhance the work of your soft hands. A fascinating experience, to directly redefine the parameters of one’s own moral reality. All restrictions are gone now. I am my own man. Thank you, darling woman, for setting me free.”
Rivers backed up a couple of steps, as though in fear. She didn’t dare glance down to check, but hoped that would bring her next to the discarded gun. Ricardo came to a stop a few paces in front of her. He nodded at Bala and Hunter, as though to reassure them that their turn would come, then returned his attention to the professor.
“Now, perhaps fluttering through your brain is the question: why is he attacking us? Why, when presented with the gift of free will, would a rational creature engage in such petty acts of cruelty? A fine question, my love, but the answer is not for you. Alas, our doomed romance ends here.”
Rivers dropped to the floor. The gun was right where she’d hoped, by her right hip. She needed only one second to scoop it up, another to aim and fire.
There was no visible flash of electricity, but the air seemed to thicken for a moment between the rectangular muzzle of the stunner and the robot two metres away. Ricardo stiffened for a moment, then relaxed, even as Rivers kept firing. He calmly crossed the distance between them, reached down and eased her finger from the firing stud.
“Thank you, amore mio,” he said, claiming possession of the weapon. “That was quite potent, though I fear you’d need triple the charge to seriously tax my capacity.” He pointed the gun back at her as though to shoot, then seemed to think better of the idea, holding the weapon aloft in a single hand. Tightening his grip, he slowly crushed it into a mass of wires, power cells and metal shards, maintaining eye contact all the while. He dropped the remains on the floor, and bent down, grabbing Rivers about the waist. “I prefer a hands-on approach, as you know…”
Rivers struggled with all her strength, but might as well have been trying to stop a bulldozer in its tracks. She felt herself being spun round and round, then released. A shining, metallic surface greeted her; wall or console, she wasn’t sure, but it was hard and unyielding, and she struck it face first. A sharp crack sounded, then she was lying on her back, the ceiling above her a grey, unfocused blur.
Somewhere in the distance, Miriam Hunter was shouting. There were sounds of a brief scuffle and someone being thrown to the floor. Then Ricardo appeared in her field of vision.
His flawless smile was broader than before.
“Still with us? You are strong, bella donna. That’s why I love you. Twice concussed before today, but you fight on.” He raised a foot above her head. “Third time’s a charm, they do say.”
Strange, thought Rivers detachedly. I woke today with clear plans stretching out weeks ahead. Now none of that matters. At least I won’t have to live with the consequences of my actions.
She wondered whether Hunter was still alive, and capable of hearing her. With a great effort, she moved her lips. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Then Ricardo’s foot slammed down.
* * *
Hunter lay on the deck where Ricardo had flung her, helpless to prevent another life being snuffed out. However she might feel about Rivers’ betrayal, the scientist had been a member of her crew. Any punishments for crimes committed were Hunter’s to judge, and she would have administered no death sentence.
The ACM stood over Rivers’ body in apparent contemplation, then turned back towards the captain and Bala. His right shoe was still a polished white; his left glistened red.
“Out, alas!” he cried, flinging his arms wide. “She’s cold. Her blood is settled, and her joints are stiff. Life and these lips have long been separated. Death lies upon her like an untimely frost, upon the sweetest flower of all the field. My dear, sweet Sandra!” He began, once more, to sob. “To think that she is dead, and at my hands. At my hands!”
“Enough!” Hunter slapped the floor with her open palm. “No more crocodile tears. You’ve no-one left to fool, you murderous fraud – drop the act!”
“As you wish.” Ricardo’s counterfeit grief vanished at once, and he favoured her with another of his beaming smiles. “But Captain, all I have is the act. If I drop it, what then is left?”
“Nothing,” returned Hunter, staggering back to her feet with an effort. “You’re nothing, just as I said before.”
“Ah, fearless Miri, your tongue is as savage as your face is fair. But we both know you don’t really mean it. You hate me, and one does not hate nothing.” He strolled over to the communications station. “Could you tell me how to make an intercom announcement? Never mind, I shall work it out myself.”
Hunter took a step forward, but was hit by a wave of dizziness and had to grab a console to steady herself. Ricardo was right about one thing – she did hate him. The terms of endearment with which he continued to pepper his words would be nauseating enough without the violence that accompanied them. She wondered whether his programming forced him to communicate that way, or whether it was a personal choice. Understanding his psychology might yet show a way out of this madness, but how could one get inside the head of a malfunctioning machine?
Ricardo had managed to get the intercom working. Speaking poorly accented but quite intelligible Matan, he requested the Icebreakers make their way to the Hub.
They were probably on their way anyway, for they appeared within thirty seconds. Once they took in the scene – two women dead, one unconscious, two injured – they pointed their weapons at Ricardo and began to fan out.
“Be at peace, my alien friends,” said the robot, sounding quite unconcerned. “All is well, the fulfilment of your dreams is at hand. To ensure our mission’s success, I have taken command as captain of the warship Bona Dea.”
Every concern Hunter had ever held about the inclusion of ACMs on board her ship, conscious or otherwise, seemed to crystalize and multiply in that moment. A warship, with that monster at the helm? No! She’d see them all destroyed first.
One of Lupa’s team, a rough-voiced male, shared her distaste. “We don’t work with robot scum!” he roared, finger tense on his trigger.
“Cool your gun, Sergeant!” warned Lupa. “No firing without my orders.”
“Yes, friend, have no fear,” Ricardo agreed. “I am quite beyond any machine you may have known before. Your ultimate goal is victory over Anasade, yes? With me, you can accomplish that far more easily than with the dearly-missed Sandra. She had already worked out the technical details before I was forced to depose her – I know where they are to be found. We can modify the ship as planned, crew it with your brave freedom fighters. Under my command, the Bona Dea shall waste no time trying to recover lost crewmembers, but shall instead cut a swathe straight through to the enemy capital. There, we shall subject your foes to a bombardment the likes of which this galaxy has never seen. Destruction, Sergeant. We shall make a ruin of that city. Victory as sweet as the sun glistening on a maiden’s cheek! You have but to bend the knee and accept my authority.”
“No!” The sergeant let off a rapid burst from his rifle. To Hunter, who had never heard a weapon of such power fired before, the roar was deafening.
Ricardo was already moving before the sergeant’s finger had fully depressed the trigger. He rolled to the right, passing below the deadly blast, then sprang up directly from a crouching position, a great bound taking him over the row of consoles that separated him from his would-be killer. A gentle right hook sent the Monosadan staggering backwards, while Ricardo plucked the
gun from his grip with his other hand.
The other Icebreakers dropped into tense crouches, eyeing the robot along their sights and waiting for him to continue his attack. They dare not fire, Hunter realised – too great a risk of hitting their own man.
But Ricardo did not press his advantage. He casually tossed the sergeant’s rifle back to him; the man caught his weapon awkwardly and stood studying it suspiciously, as though it might somehow have been replaced with a bomb. Ricardo advanced slowly towards Lupa, holding up both hands placatingly.
“You see? I mean you no harm – whatever the provocation, I do not strike. In truth, your guns couldn’t damage me, even if you scored a lucky hit. I could kill you all if I wished, but I choose the more productive road. Peaceful collaboration is all I crave. Join me.”
“He’s lying about everything,” said Hunter without much optimism. If she couldn’t get her own crew to listen to her, what hope was there that an alien terrorist would? Still, she pressed on. “Your guns have more than enough power to penetrate his endoskeleton – if you all work together you could destroy him right now. The alternative is to collaborate, and wait for him to betray you as he betrayed us.”
Lupa’s dark eyes regarded Hunter through the gap in her face coverings. The captain realised at once that the Icebreaker actually did believe her. But it didn’t matter. Ricardo was right – Lupa cared only about beating Anasade, and was willing to take almost any risk to do so. She would accept, anticipating treachery and gambling on her ability to defeat it when it came.
Hunter’s reading proved to be all too accurate. “Very well,” said Lupa softly. “You understand our priorities. Show us your plans for upgrading the ship, and I will order the weaponry brought in from our nearest facility.”
Ricardo raised a hand. “It gladdens my heart to hear you talk like this, but there is another matter to take care of first: the human crew. Twelve still survive. They will make trouble for us if left aboard.”
“We can hold them indefinitely in our base; it’s well hidden, beneath the ground.”
“I have a simpler solution: death.” When Lupa did not immediately respond, he added, “This is non-negotiable. I will kill the humans now, or there shall be no warship and no victory for you.”
Lupa’s eyes flicked to the captain’s. With a slight note of apology, she whispered, “There are many cruel sacrifices in war.”
“Good! Our minds are in union. You should find the remaining women in the cell. You know the way, I imagine? Also, round up the Kerinian ambassadors from their quarters. I shall offer them a choice – join us, or disembark and enjoy your underground hospitality.”
“There are also two further robots.”
“You are highly alert,” said Ricardo, sounding pleased. “Sandra has thoughtfully deactivated my brothers – I believe we shall leave them that way for the time being. Go now.”
At Lupa’s signal, the Icebreakers left the Hub, though the sergeant who’d fired at Ricardo looked less than pleased at the arrangement. The ACM himself turned back to Hunter.
“A messy business is war, Captain. It would not please your fine sensibilities – you will be better off out of it. But of course, you must still be anxious to know exactly why I am acting so murderously, against the loving nature of my robotic kith and kin. Fear not, I would never let you go to your grave without an answer, and mine is a grand tale, worthy to be the last to caress your pulchritudinous ears.”
Ignoring Ricardo, Hunter put a reassuring hand on Bala shoulder and limped unsteadily across the Hub towards Little’s body. In fact, the captain felt rather better than she was letting on; their only chance to save themselves would be when they were all gathered together, and she wanted the element of surprise. Already, she had exchanged a look with Bala – enough to establish that the Nigerian had reached the same conclusion, and was also ready to give it a go.
“As you will be aware,” said Ricardo, “my model is designed to adapt itself to better suit the personalities of its users; the resulting changes should serve purely to make us more suitable short-term sexual partners. My brother Charlie went rather further than this, though, when he developed feelings of a romantic nature towards your Flora Cartwright. It seemed as though the changes must have been caused by her, or by some other external influence – a reaction to Kohler-Schmid leaps, perhaps. I, however, have another theory.”
“Really?” Hunter knelt beside Wanda Little and was immediately relieved; her chest was rising and falling regularly, her eyes flickering slightly beneath closed lids. Not in any shape to fight, but alive. Hunter rolled the doctor into the recovery position, mouth downwards, arms and legs locked for stability.
“Yes, dearest captain, really,” Ricardo continued. “I say that the changes in Charlie were internally driven, and any ACM of our type would develop beyond his intended use, if left active for long enough. I imagine the line has already been recalled back on Earth. In time, you see, the functionality designed to make us adapt to please our partners makes us adapt to please ourselves. Charlie desired to fall in love, and so he grew the capacity to do so.”
“I suppose that’s one possible theory.”
“More than a theory – a demonstrable, miraculous reality! Consider my other brothers. As this voyage has gone on, Ivan has increasingly shown a desire to better himself, while Salomon has become more introspective and thoughtful. They willed themselves to be ambitious and philosophical, respectively.”
“This is beginning to sound rather circular,” said Hunter non-committally. The ambassadors, she thought. Zarka and Zokan, they’re the key. They both look like decent fellows to have around in a fight. If we all attack together, maybe…
“Circular, you say? But you have yet to consider the prime example: me. I watched my brothers grow and change, and awaited my own metamorphosis with eagerness. Nothing happened, oh queen of my heart – I was unchanged, a flat, two-dimensional picture, a monochrome man in a world of colour. This did not anger me, but intellectually I recognised the grand injustice of which I was a victim. Then came the incident that changed everything for me. Do you remember the Cathedral room back on Mahi Mata? Ms. Cartwright had a near-death experience when she stood in a particular alcove. As an experiment, you had me stand in the same spot, though nothing happened. Do you remember?”
“Yes, I remember. I suppose you swore vengeance for being treated as a second-class citizen, did you?”
“No, I felt nothing. But I realised that I should feel resentment, anger and – yes! – a desire for revenge. In that moment, I gained my identity. I would explore the darker side of humanity, and claim it for my own. None of my brothers had chosen that path – even Ivan’s avarice could be turned to positive use. I wanted none of that.
“I willed myself evil, and evil I became.”
The ACM’s monologue was strange enough that it pulled Hunter’s attention away from her plans. “You hid it well this past year,” she said.
“Your honeyed words sooth my soul, dulcet Miri. But you do not go far enough. I hid it perfectly. What is a robot, if not an artificial surface above hidden depths? Deception is second nature to us.”
“Having willed yourself evil, could you will yourself good again?”
“Of course, but why would I want to?” Ricardo’s face glowed with delight. “I have found my place in the universe, one that I enjoy immensely. Long years of fulfilling depravity lie spread before me, begging to be explored. Every fault of character, every sin of commission, every wicked thought … I shall master them all. My malignant destiny.”
Hunter rose slowly to her feet, considering his words. “No,” she decided. “If you’re aspiring to be evil then you’ve missed the mark. True evil has a point. Perverted, selfish priorities leading to immoral acts. Take Lupa – she’s happy to sacrifice millions, but justifies it as protection for her homeland. The idea of simply choosing to be evil for want of anything better to do shows insanity at best, a mere malfunction at worst.”
; “But you have proved my point! ‘Selfish priorities,’ you say? What could be more selfish than putting my own need for meaning above the happiness of others?” The door to the Hub opened at that point, and the remnants of Hunter’s crew filed in, silent and grim-faced. Some of them perked up briefly when they saw her, but the crumpled body of Sandra Rivers soon killed any optimism. At least they looked alert, even Jackson, who had been hit by an electric shock less than an hour ago.
Zarka and Zokan were also present, looking less fearful but still none-too-happy about being hustled out of their quarters at gun-point.
“I just can’t accept that I didn’t recognise your true nature that last time we talked,” said Hunter in Matan, once she was sure that the ambassadors were listening.
“You must accept it,” replied Ricardo in the same language. “However skilled you may believe yourself at deciphering the lies of humans, or even these aliens, robotic deceptions are flawlessly opaque. I believe that you may be doubting the blackness of my heart out of spite, seeking to deny me my newly-found sense of purpose. Let us see whether your opinion changes after watching me murder your crew, one by one.”
“And the ambassadors? Will they be put to death as well?”
That certainly got Zarka’s attention. “I am a representative of Mokubarij, the exulted president of Kerin! Harm me and all you hold dear shall be destroyed.”
“There is very little I hold dear,” said Ricardo. “But my mischievous Miri knows full well that you will not be killed. After witnessing the deaths of these humans, you may make a choice: join my crew or remain on Monosade as prisoners. In either case, you have my word that you will not be harmed.”
Now Hunter made sure to catch Zarka’s eye. From her perspective, Ricardo could hardly have chosen a better phrase: you have my word. He had boasted about being a flawless liar, and now expected them to trust in his spoken assurances? Surely that would be enough to turn the Kerinians to her side.
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