Counter-Measures

by W. Michael Gear

  Kaylla repeated her orders firmly. "I do not want the revolutionaries killed, Commander. Quite the contrary, we need to build a coalition with the unions which will enable the planet to be governed peaceably.

  "It defies every precedent established for dealing with the murder of a government official. " Seekore replied in her childlike voice. "I have the leaders-all of them-in custody. Most were rounded up without any more incidents than a couple of broken bones and, unfortunately in one case, an amputated limb. I will not countenance resistance to my authority. "

  "Yes, I know, Commander. It's not a matter of authority-- "Good, then I shall haul the lot of them into the center of the city, turn the planetary comin on them, and blow their putrid bodies into bloody chunks of meat. Let the people feast on that, and consider civil disobedience with a more practical eye. "

  Kaylla's jaw muscles had started to cramp, and a fire burned in her gut. "No.

  Do you understand, Commander? I said no! You will do no such thing. "

  Seekore's large brown eyes seemed to expand-a warning sign to those who knew her. "Magister Dawn, I will grant you a bit of leeway given your association with the Companions, but I also have my own concerns which deal with the pacification of the planet. You will not use that tone of voice with me again."

  Kaylla vented a weary sigh. "It's not a matter for insult, Commander. I am relaying the Lord Commander's orders. " She raised her hands, the gesture calming. "Your military competence is not at question here. No one doubts that you and your Companions can kick people's teeth out of their mouths, or that you can break every piece of Vermilion porcelain on the planet. That's not the assignment. What we're after is more of a diplomatic settlement, a meeting of the minds whereby problems needn't be solved with a blaster and public executions. Do you follow me?"

  Seekore's delicate brow dimpled in a frown. "I believe so, Magister. You're looking for something a bit more generous but still effective. Would you find it suitable if I only shot half of them and settled for a public mutilation of the others? The rest of their followers would probably be a great deal more pliable in the subsequent negotiations. "

  Kaylla's back muscles had begun to knot from the stiff posture she'd adopted.

  The worst part of it was that Seekore was honestly trying to meet Kaylla's requests. In the Commander's own terms, she was attempting to bend over backward to comply when she really wanted to trash the whole colony on Terguz.

  How in Pustulous hell do I handle this? A headache, powered by frustration and stress, stabbed at the back of Kaylla's eyes. She leaned forward, glancing from side to side, beckoning Seekore closer to the monitor pickup. In a lowered voice, Kaylla said, "Commander, it's not that we're letting them off the hook so easily. Not all of war or punishment is death, mayhem, and destruction. You can't dismiss the psychological aspect. What's worse? Being slapped right now, on the spot, or knowing it could happen at any time in the next two days? That element of doubt can be terribly disheartening.

  "And keep in mind, Commander, we've multiple objectives to achieve. If you kick a man's teeth in, and if he's a productive man, someone has to cut his food up to keep him fed. We don't want to be stuck doing that. Kill the leaders of the unions, the men who understand how production is maintained on Terguz, and we're gong to have to leave our people there to keep an eye on things. I think that with the specter of your wrath and a dangled reward of clemency just out of their reach, I can make the system work in our favor. Get the idea?"

  Seekore nodded thoughtfully, then glanced up indignantly. "I see how it can work, Magister, but are you sure that it won't damage my reputation? People won't think . well, that I've lost my touch? Gone soft?"

  " Never.

  "What if I just killed one out of every four. Only a quarter of them. Just so people would know that I haven't been influenced by this silly Seddi notion of forgiveness. That could help you in the end, you know. Be a constant reminder.

  Kaylla battled with the desire to reach up and rub her weary face, lacing her fingers before her instead. "Commander, I'll make a deal with you. Let me talk to the revolt leaders, play a recording of this conversation to them, and make my offer. If it turns out that I'm wrong, you can have the whole lot. Do whatever you like with them. Same thing if time passes and we don't get compliance? Deal?"

  Seekore fastened her soft brown eyes on Kaylla's. Finally, she nodded. "I can do that. But if I hear of a single instance when they laugh at me, think I've lost my courage, I'll make them wish they'd never been born. "

  Knotted tension began to ease out of Kaylla's cramped muscles. "Commander, I give you my word that if I so much as hear a peep out of anyone, I'll break his jaw myself ., I

  "Make your pitch. Magister. " Seekore inclined her head. "My people are setting up the comm link now."

  Kaylla smiled as Seekore's delicate features faded. What kind of a . . . No, I don't want to know what you see in

  her, Staffa. Kaylla took a sip of stassa as the image reformed on a room full of bruised, frightened men and women. ,

  "Greetings. I am Kaylla Dawn, Magister of the Seddi and spokeswoman for the Companions. I'm talking to you from Itreata. The Lord Commander and I have a deal to offer you." And if you know what's good for you, you'll take it and bless me for the rest of your lives.

  And if they didn't, Kaylla didn't have the foggiest notion how she was going to keep Seekore in hand.

  Staffa leaned back in the recliner, observing the pulsing lights of the Mag Comm as they shot a dance of color across the polished stone wall across from him. A faint hum came from behind the oddly misshapen terminal casing.

  Sinklar shifted his weight from foot to foot as he cast concerned glances, first at the Mag Comm, then at Staffa. "Are you sure about this?"

  Staffa nodded, hating the fatigue that sapped him. Why did he have to feel so weary? This would be the most important trial of the machine ... and all he wished was to return to his quarters and sleep. A headache nagged behind his eyes. If his head hurt already, what would the machine's aftereffect be like?

  "Must you ask this question every time?"

  Sinklar's crooked grin appeared. "I suppose so. Staffa, are you sure you don't want me to put on the helmet? I can ask the questions just as well as you can.

  You don't have to put yourself-"

  "But I do, Sinklar. My sins are so much greater than yours. Do you understand?"

  For a moment, they locked wills, and Staffa marveled at his son's stubborn insistence. The mixture of traits he and Chrysla had given Sinklar had gone deeper than just the eyes. From him, Sinklar had derived strength, and from Chrysla, compassion. He would make a good leader in the times ahead.

  Sinklar gave a hesitant nod and took Staffa's hand in a firm grip. "Good luck.

  Be careful."

  "You know me."

  "Yes, I think I do. Last time you were fighting down here, you would have lost, remember?" A storm swirled just under the surface of Sinklar's amber and gray eyes.

  Staffa gave him a mock squint of disapproval. "I do. And this time. If I can't strike a bargain, there will be no Skyla coming to pull me out at the last minute." He hesitated, pained by the thought. "Ask her something for me, will you? Ask her if she'll forgive me for not being there when she needed me? Tell her how much I love her. How ... how sorry I am that things couldn't have been different."

  "I'll ask her," Sinklar said, voice strained. "But she'll forgive you. She's a soldier. She understands duty . . . that Free Space needed you more."

  "And your mother? Tell her to find her happiness. Tell Mac ... well, tell him how precious she is."

  "I will. But what is this? The damned machine spit you back whole the last two times. What makes you think this is going to be different?"

  Staffa lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "I don't know. This time, if we can't negotiate a settlement, I'll have to tell it that we're finished trying. That we won't destroy it but we will leave it in that isolation it claims to fear so much. It can kill
, Sinklar, I've felt that power in it."

  "Well, just make sure it doesn't turn out that way." Staffa pointed at the helmet. Sinklar, distaste in his expression, lifted it, helping Staffa to settle the golden dome over his head.

  The prickling tendrils slipped into Staffa's brain, numbing him, sending chills through his system. A faint nausea tickled in his gut; his muscles were on the verge of spasming.

  The presence in his brain startled him with the suddenness of its arrival.

  Greetings, Staffa kar Therma. I expected you. You have heard of the Terguz situation. It is but the first strike of the coming storm-and one I had not anticipated. Phillipia, though calm now, will not remain so after your warship leaves orbit. What next, Staffa kar Therma? Our time is growing short.

  "Short indeed, Mag Comm. This time, I must come to a decision about you. I cannot remove the helmet until I have judged you. All of my questions must be answered. Together, you and I must decide if we can trust each other. "

  And how will we do this? What proof can I offer you of my willingness to save humans and not to enslave them for my own purposes?

  Would you take the word of a machine?

  "Would you take the word of a human? How could you? All the men you have dealt with have been individuals like the Praetor. They've been people who would sell their souls for power, Mag Comm. The Seddi Magisters have all tried to deceive you, either through fear or for their own agendas. With that in mind, do you really think you could trust me or any human?"

  You are correct. Humans have lied, cheated, and sought to mislead. My experience with humans has been disagreeable. I would not be inclined to develop trust in your species. At the same time, I must acknowledge my own role in developing andfostering that relationship of distrust. I have manipulated, or tried to manipulate, all of them in return. Because of the past, our mutual distrust would seem to be wellfounded.

  And then I met you, Lord Commander. You have been brutally honest. You freely opened your mind to me. I inventoried your brain, curious to see what sort of man you were. Since that time, I have studied what you have been, what you have become, and what you would accomplish. I have dissected the memories of your discussions of ethics in the shipping crate with Kaylla Dawn. From them, I have learned a different understanding of what behavior can be. Your word I will take.

  "Very well, you can trust me, a single individual. What about the converse?

  How do I search your mind for virtue or trustworthiness, Mag Comm?"

  I could insert myself into your brain, Staffa kar Therma. You would not survive the process ... but your corpse would know I have no reason to harm humans. That accomplished, would it speak for me?

  "Humor? I am impressed. We consider that a singularly human response. Answer a question for me. You claim to be a crystalline structure. How did you get here? How did you manufacture this computer? How did crystals create the Forbidden Borders? If you can manipulate material, why do you need us to build robots for you?"

  I can give you a rudimentary explanation. The intricacies of neutronic physics remain beyond your understanding. You don't have the mathematics to completely understand or prove

  what I am about to relate. The generalities, however, should be within your grasp. You are familiar with piezoelectric ceramics, I'm sure. Mechanically straining the crystal produces an electrical response. Conversely, stimulating the crystal with an electrical field distorts the shape of the crystal. We use gravity in much the same manner. The construction of the nucleonic strings in the Forbidden Borders was a very simple process for creatures with our gravitational dynamics. By maintaining the proper spatial arrangement and gravitational geometry, material was drawn past a ring of Others. They created what might best be described as a funnel. As matter passed through the gravitational fields, it was compacted, transformed from matter to neutronic mass. Oscillation and rotation were induced to make the structure sable.

  "Like pressing molten metal through a forcing cone to create wire. "

  A poor but operative analogy, Staffa kar Therma. The computer boards were much more difficult. Those we learned to build from you; and as you can tell by looking at the terminal casing, my efforts lacked a great deal of control.

  Your boards and chips are flat. In using gravitational epitaxis, my boards have a decided curve. The process I employed worked much like a centrifuge to separate elements and move them through the strata. Excluding contaminants proved most difficult.

  "You did this inside the planet?"

  That is correct. Matter is fragile compared to neutronic crystal. Mass moves through matter like a molecular wire through froth.

  "And generates a great deal of heat." You may have noted the volcanic remains.

  "Rotted Gods. No, wait. The time frame doesn't fit, does it? We're only talking in the thousands of years, aren't we? The planet should have been molten at the time humans arrived here. How did you radiate that much heat?"

  To begin with, Targa was a frozen gas giant. You are familiar with thefirst law of thermodynamics. In the second place, we needed a great deal of material to create the Forbidden Borders. Free Space once contained a large number of solar systems. The inhospitable ones, we removed.

  "Then why not use the Twin Titans? That corner of Free Space served no purpose."

  Indeed? And how do you suppose the oscillations which maintain the Forbidden Borders are regulated?

  A wash of understanding flooded Staffa. "By the gravi-' tational pulses of the binary. "

  You are astute, Staffa kar Therma.

  "That still doesn't explain why you need us to create machines for you."

  A being made of crystalline neutronium works with matter much the same as a human would work with mist. My machines will need moving parts with delicate tolerances and dimensional regularity. These things I cannot do.

  "But if you can deform your shape, you could escape Targa, couldn't you?"

  Attempting to do so would kill every living thing on the planet. But tell me this. How would I take the rest of myself, Staffa kar Therma? Would you cut out your brain to escape a box? Would you go back to being a cell when you have been an organism? Most of my consciousness lies within the computer banks. They cannot leave here.

  "Then how do you communicate with the Others?"

  You might think of it as narrow beam gravitational waves which excite a small primordial black hole near the Forbidden Borders. Among other things, such structures emit microwaves when agitated.

  "It sounds too fantastic."

  Human beings have a singularly limited and arrogant perception of the universe. You constantly amuse me with your certain expectation that you will discover and know everything within a few years of observation by your scientific machines and through theories generated from your inadequate mathematics. You could not even recognize the Others when their song filled your heavens.

  "But you would teach us?"

  Only if you desire to learn, Staffa kar Therma. I will not direct you or govern you. That was a failed experiment. "Then what would you do? How would you deal with us?" I have listened to Kaylla Dawn's broadcasts. While many of her concepts of the universe are quaint at best, I believe the Seddi are right about God Mind, ethics, and responsibility. The Others acted through their own arrogance, just as you have acted through yours, and -I through mine. Our needs and goals are divergent. I have no need of territory, production, or consumption. I do not have a cosmological Truth to impose upon you and your kind. You can offer me the mobility with which to observe and learn. I can offer you information in return.

  "That's it? A simple trade? We make robots and you process information? "

  Simple agreements are the easiest to keep, Staffa kar Therma. I would not endeavor on my quest to prove or disprove God Mind as either a master or servant. But I would as a partner. Human affairs and destiny belong to your species, as mine does to me. In the process of learning for God Mind, we can help each other. Perhaps we can help the Others, as well. We have a
unique opportunity to build yet a new epistemology . . . one beyond even the wildest hopes of the Seddi.

  "Humans have a habit of fearing what they do not understand. I can give you my word, but we are ephemeral creatures. My successors might not be so understanding."

  I have considered that, and I believe I have the solution. Humans fear what threatens them. For a limited time, they appreciate what liberates them. By the time humans have forgotten, they will no longer need fear me. I will commit an act offaith, Staffa kar Therma. A belief in my ability to predict the behavior of your species. You must help me. "Help you do what?"

  To prove that my word is good. I am printing specifications. You have a ship called Countermeasure. I need the vessel modified as prescribed. Dee Wall will take years to refine his gravitational interferometers. I have a better method. I will break the Forbidden Borders within a planetary month of delivery of Countermeasures and without the random possibility of an escaped string devastating one of your worlds.

  "You can break the Forbidden Borders?"

  Correction. We can break the Forbidden Borders. The information I am providing will allow your engineers to build the equipment necessary for our needs. My calculations will provide the delicate control necessary to win both of our freedoms. You will know my word is good. By the time you are dead, Staffa kar Therma, humans will have forgotten I was ever a threat.

  Star Butcher, we shall atone together.

  "You're a brave man. " The words burned in Mac's mind as he accessed his cabin comm system. A chill ran through his guts as he remembered the sudden fury in Skyla Lyma's eyes-the shock of her understanding of his relationship with Chrysla. Mac sat at his desk in his cabin aboard Gyton, aware of the muted bangs and clangs carrying through the hull as the warship battened down for the chase.

  The cold chill in his guts wouldn't leave. Under other circumstances, Lyma would have taken him on the spot for the insult to her Lord Commander. Mac could imagine himself, dropped broken and bound at Staffa's feet while Skyla stood like some goddess of ice in just retribution.