* * *
The door slid closed behind Mollaris as he followed the admiral into the Task Force Commander’s ready room. The admiral sat stiffly in his chair as he looked at his officer, not extending the courtesy of offering his subordinate a seat.
“What the hell do you think you were doing out there?” snapped the admiral.
“Sir,” said the officer calmly, “I was merely pointing out…”
“You were merely arguing with a superior officer in front of the bridge crew. That sort of behavior will not be tolerated in my command.”
“My uncle sent me on this mission to make sure his wishes were adhered to,” said the haughty officer, looking down his nose at the admiral.
“I am in command of this task force, you whelp,” screamed Gerasi, smacking a hard palm on the surface of his desk. “You are under my command, and will obey my orders. If your uncle wishes to discuss my leadership of this mission, he may do so. When we return to the home systems. Until then, you will conduct yourself like an officer in the Holy Navy of the Nation.”
“Yes sir,” said the officer, his hate filled eyes staring straight into the admiral’s. “I understand.”
“Dismissed,” hissed Gerasi. The lieutenant snapped a quick salute, then spun on his heel and walked from the room, the door sliding shut behind him.
That one will always be trouble, thought the admiral. He had friends in the Council of Supreme Elders, as well as being the nephew of the Patriarch. But Gerasi had friends as well. His mother was a direct descendant of Benjamin Drefuss himself, the Prophet upon which all the Nation's beliefs were built.
Maybe the boy could be steered toward the priesthood when the task force returned. God knew his attitude more suited that august body than the close-knit brotherhood of the navy.
* * *
This looks promising, thought Pandi, as she looked into the small room she had found. A lounge of some kind. Comfortable looking couches sat against the walls. A cabinet with a sink occupied a corner. Paintings of haunting alien landscapes adorned the walls. Thick carpeting covered the floor. All looked as if it had just come out of the factory, though it had a feel of great age.
Thirst drove her first. The cabinet contained glasses of some kind of hard plastic. The water still flowed, and tasted remarkably fresh and refreshing. She searched for some source of food, but there was none to be found.
Fatigue tugged at her, but she thought first of her safety. The door slid closed with a swish, and she found that by pushing the bottom button she could disengage the others, effectively locking the door. That didn’t mean this room was impregnable, she knew, but it would have to do. Her head hit the cushions of the couch and she fell into an immediate deep sleep.
* * *
“Safe limit to gravity well in twenty-four standard hours, admiral,” called the navigator over his shoulder.
Fleet Admiral Nagara Krishnamurta sat his chair on the bridge of the Kingdom of Surya flagship Danaus. Ahead, on the computer compensated view screen, shown a pattern of eight stars. The brightest was the F5 near the center, white hot and glaring bright even at the distance. The smallest was near the edge of the display, a brown dwarf indicated by a superimposed graphic, not even visible from any of its neighbors.
The small brown man swiveled his chair to look at the nav display in the holo tank to his side. Navigation crew busily read the particulars of the display. Bubbles of the stars’ gravity wells shown in color scaled displays. The F5 was noticeable by its size, but was dwarfed by the largest of the bubbles, which extended to enclose all of the star systems. The Hole. The center of the old Empire that had fallen so many thousands of years before.
“Spatial disturbance on the edge of the system,” said the naval officer. “Estimated footprint, two days.”
“Nation of Humanity?” asked the admiral. Their space destroying drives were known to cause such a signature. The fools, he thought, to use such dangerous technology. His own squadron employed the much safer Inertia Damping Bubble. They still had to deal with the hazards of negative matter, but potential speed was unlimited. Of course, they could only accelerate up to a certain velocity in a half year, and had to decelerate for the other half year of the voyage. And entering a gravity well was deadly.
“Most likely sir,” replied the nav officer, studying his display.
“Damn,” cursed the admiral. “They’ll get there before us.”
His kingdom was wealthier in terms of resources than the fanatics of the Nation of Humanity. But they had still had to expend an enormous amount of those resources to mount this sortie.
“Would the admiral like us to risk a close approach?” called the captain over the screen link to the battle control center.
“No,” said Admiral Krishnamurta. “I’d rather have us arrive intact, with all fighting power, than risk disaster. I’m sure we can deal with them when we get there. Hopefully they won’t have caused too much damage by then.”
“Yes sir,” said the captain with a scowl. The admiral knew the captain was a staunch religionist, a member of the state church. And he knew as well as the captain what those fanatics might do to the poor, unsophisticated members of alien races they might come upon. The members of the Nation were known for their hatred of aliens, thinking them godless devils. The Church of Surya knew better. The aliens had souls, and must be saved despite themselves.
* * *
Pandi was sleeping soundly, involved in a dream, when the feeling of something standing over her, watching her, broke into her slumber. She thought it was part of the dream for a moment, till her conscious mind broke in and reminded her of where she was. Eyes still heavy with fatigue opened, as her ears strained to catch the slightest sound. To her dismay she was facing the back of the couch, turned away from the door.
Something moved, a heavy step on the carpeted floor. She heard the rustle of fabric as her small pack was opened, something rifling through its contents. Damn, she swore silently. She would have preferred to know what she was facing before it knew she was awake. A heavy hand on her shoulder drove all thoughts but survival from her mind.
Pandi spun around, her eyes locking on the figure standing over her as she tensed to spring from the couch. The sight of the figure stopped her. Jet black fabric or skin on a biped form. Was it a human? Or a robot? It was proportioned like a human, with two arms, two legs, and a human shaped head. A flat, silvered visor sat in place of where the eyes should be. Two holes were set where the nostrils should be, without the benefit of the bulge of a nose to hold them. The creature had no mouth.
A quick glance revealed another standing by the door. They seemed to stare at her with their eyeless gaze. One turned to the other, and both assumed an aspect of listening. That was her chance, she knew, as she sprung from the couch and ducked low under the grasping arms of the turning creature.
The one at the door seemed ready for her, arms outstretched as it waited to trap her. She got a better look at the hands as she looked for an opening. Three fingers and a thumb flexing, making ready to grab. The things seemed to move differently than any kind of living creature she had ever seen. A combination of gracefulness and clumsiness. If she had to guess she would bet she was dealing with robots. And her last encounter with robots had left her with a bad feeling for the things.
Her legs moved, juking one way, then spinning around the other, just as if she had been playing football with the local boys when she was a girl. The creature bit on the fake, and she was under a grasping arm and through the door.
Another robot waited for her, blocking the way down the corridor. She heard something moving up behind her. Assuming it was another robot, she charged the one to her front, jumping into a flying sidekick, the knife-edge of her foot striking the robot in the chest before it could react. Her ankle twisted as her foot hit what felt like steel reinforced concrete. As she landed the ankle went out from under her, and she fell heavily to the floor. Before she could move the robot was over her, hands grabbing
at her legs.
Pandi kicked hard with both legs, trying to dislodge the hands that sank into her flesh like vises. She tried to roll out of the grip, before another pair of hands grabbed her shoulders and held her tight. She fought against her imprisonment like a scalded wildcat, but the creatures were all stronger than her, and two held her down, while the other two looked at her in an aspect of listening. One of the robots said something, a high-pitched burst of sound.
“I don’t understand,” she said, squirming in the grasp of her captors. “Let me go. You’re hurting me.”
The robot didn’t reply, but the hard grip of those who held her slackened. She still didn’t have a hope of breaking their restraint, but at least it didn’t feel like her bones were about to be crushed.
The remaining robot squatted beside her and began to explore her clothing with its hands. Panic began to grip her. A hand grabbed the zipper of her suit and slowly pulled it down. Visions of some kind of robotic gang rape shot through her mind, as she fought with all her strength against the grasp of her captors.
“You will not be harmed,” said the robot still standing over her in a surprisingly human sounding voice. It seemed to be the leader, or at least the spokesman of the machines.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked, as the squatting robot continued to pull the zipper down.
“The master wishes to see you,” answered the robot. “And we, his loyal servants, must be entirely sure that you are not a threat to him.”
The zipper down, the robot opened the few buckles of the suit. Boots were unzipped and pulled off. The robot holding her shoulders shifted his grip to her arms, as the one assigned to disrobe her pulled the suit up over her arms. Hands under her arms pulled her up to her feet, as the robot set at her pedal extremities pulled the suit from her.
Pandi stood, still held in place by a single robot, as another began to run its hands over her body, only covered now by the long john like undergarment. She felt shame wash over her, to be subjected to such a clinical examination against her will. When they began to pull the zipper down in the back of the undergarment shame turned again to anger. The anger turned to resolve as the robot pulled the zippers down both of the legs, one after the other. Then it moved back to her arms.
She put her arms in the air, as if to aid the robot in disrobing her. The one holding her shoulders slackened its grip to allow the undergarment to be pulled from her. That was what she had been waiting for, a chance. Her legs dropped out from under her as she fell straight down into a squat, her shoulders dropping out of the hands of the robot. She thrust forward, coming up to her feet and into a sprint, the undergarment holding her up for a moment until she spun out of it, leaving it in the grasp of a robot.
Pandi was off, running down the corridor as fast as she could pump her adrenaline-strengthened legs. Nakedness, and what the robots thought of her nakedness, was the last thing on her mind. She would escape first, and worry about clothing herself later.
“Stop,” called all of the robots in unison behind her. She glanced over her shoulder as she ran, to see the robots in a jogging pursuit. If that was the best they could do they wouldn’t catch her. She suspected they had the edge in stamina, but surely she could get far enough away to hide before they could get to her.
She hadn’t expected there to be more of them. That was the last thing on her mind as she turned a corner and ran right into another pair. They were prepared for her, arms outstretched to cover the corridor. Pandi tried to stop, to change direction, but her bare feet slid on the smooth surface of the floor, and she flew into the open arms of a robot. Said arms clamped shut around her, and she was trapped.
“Do not try that again,” said a robot coming up behind her.
“Or you’ll hurt me?” she asked, her blood pounding in her head in fury.
“No,” said the robot, which she thought of now as the spokesman. “We are ordered to see that no harm comes to you. But there are other dangers out there. Dangers over which we, and the master, have no control.”
Thoughts of the fractal robot came to her. At least these humanoid creatures had been gentle with her on the whole. Any bumps or bruises she had could be blamed on her struggle to fight and escape.
“He may not be so gentle with you.”
“Who?” she asked, shaking her long hair out of her eyes. “The master?” She wished she could wipe the sweat from her face, but the robot still held her against its hard body in an unbreakable grip.
“No,” said the spokesman robot. “The master’s enemy. He would definitely wish you harm.”
“And your master doesn’t?”
“He wishes to meet with you, as a guest,” said the spokesman robot. “He means you no harm.”
“Is he a robot? Like you?”
“No,” said the robot. “Watcher is an organic life form like you.”
Pandi felt somewhat disconcerted looking the robot in the face. It spoke to her, but it had no mouth, not even a recognizable speaker. The silver visor looked at her, an eyeless stare that showed no emotion.
“Human?”
“More or less,” answered the robot. “Superior form, but basically human.” She wondered if she was imagining it, or was the robot speaking to her in a more relaxed, less mechanistic manner. Like it was learning to imitate her own speech patterns.
“Will you accompany us, without any further trouble?” asked the robot.
“I guess I have no choice. What do I call you?”
The robot looked at her a moment, as if puzzled by her question.
“What is your name?”
“I have no name as you understand the concept,” replied the robot. “What do you wish to call me?”
Only a couple of names came to mind, both from old sci-fi shows she had seen on late night as a child, and Pandi didn’t think B9 would quite fit. Which left…
“I’ll call you Robbie.”
“Very well. I am to respond to the name Robbie. And your, name?”
“Pandora Latham,” she answered. “Though most people call me Pandi. Can I have some clothes, or do you intend to bring me before this Watcher naked.”
“As I said, he means you no harm. But we must be sure that you do not mean any harm to him as well. And you will be unable to conceal weapons in your present state.”
Not the way I wanted to meet another human being for the first time, she thought. Maybe he had no taboo of nudity, but she normally only became nude with a select few. But while in Rome, as they said.
“I will not give you any trouble. Lead the way.”
The robot holding her released his grip, as Robbie turned to walk down the corridor. The other robots fell in around her, surrounding her but not touching her. She followed the leader of the robots as the group moved down the hall.
* * *
She could tell that this was a different station from the first she had come to. The murals upon the wall were of some kind of kangaroo like alien, similar to the body they had found in the abandoned hulk of the Hernand.
“They are called Husteds,” said one of the robots, following her gaze to the wall. “They were known to be loyal friends of mankind, unlike some of the other species.”
Then the train caught her attention and all else lost importance. It was beautiful in an exotic kind of way. Tube shaped, with rounded ends. All walls were of a lightly colored transparent substance that didn’t look like glass or plastic. More like some kind of metal. Comfortable looking chairs covered in shimmering fabric sat along the inner walls of the car. Double doors in the center were open.
The robots led her to the car, and she looked down before entering. The car was suspended above the curved trough that held the lower section, not touching the walls, and not held up by any visible means. Magnetic suspension, she thought.
“Please,” said Robbie, gesturing toward a chair. “Have a seat.”
Pandi sat carefully in the seat. The fabric looked like some kind of plastic, and she expected it to be
cold and sticky on her bare skin. It was anything but. A silky warmth spread from the chair to her skin, and she felt like sinking into the seat in total relaxation. Almost like an instant massage.
The doors slid silently shut and the train started moving, accelerating quickly without the feeling of acceleration. Some kind of compensation system? The car moved into the darkness of the tunnel ahead. The interior of the car glowed with a warm and comforting light.
A few seconds and they were out in the open again, speeding through a transparent tube suspended from the ceiling, looking down on what looked like an enormous residential area. Gardens occupied the central courtyard, while walls dotted with porches and doorways stretched to the high ceiling. Smaller houses were spaced among the gardens and plazas. The area looks so sad, she thought, so empty. It was meant to be filled with people.
Then they were through and into another tunnel. She looked over at the robots, which were all staring sightlessly back. Again she felt uncomfortable in her nakedness, wondering if robots felt desire for the human form. The end of the closed tunnel came up. As they came out, moving ever faster, a space that made the residential area seem tiny by comparison came into view.
Pandi no longer thought of nakedness, or of robots looking at her, as wonders came into view.
Chapter 6
What does the history of the human race teach us? If anything it teaches us that the instinct of the human race, an instinct that goes down as deep as any genetic trait instilled on the race through billions of years of evolution, is the instinct of conflict. The human race thrives on conflict. Conflict is to us as food and drink. All throughout the history of the race, the long climb to the dominance of a single planet, to the stars, to over lordship of the Galaxy itself, we have fed on conflict. Only once in the history of our people, after all the obvious frontiers had been conquered, did the human race decide to rest on its laurels. And then we became the prey of other races also bred to the joy of conflict. And then we fell from dominance, to begin again the long climb on thousands of separate worlds sunk to the depths of barbarism.
The Deep Dark Well Page 7