“Perditus,” Collier said softly.
“Yes?”
“Please make sure no one disturbs her.”
“I don’t understand.”
Before Collier could reply, Sancho said, “I’ll explain it to him, Skipper.”
Collier didn’t bother to answer. He cycled the airlock and entered the cabin, removing his suit deliberately and placing it on its rack.
“I’m sorry, Skipper,” Sancho said softly when Collier settled into the control suite chair.
“Yeah,” was all Collier could manage.
“I don’t suppose you want to hear any words of encouragement, do you?”
Collier sighed. “Probably not a good idea, Sancho. Contact Perditus and let him know we’re as ready as we’ll ever be.”
“Roger.”
“How’s this going to work, anyway?” Collier said, only half-interested.
Sancho went into a long and detailed explanation of how the maglev launch system worked, how it had been designed for larger passenger vessels, and what modifications he and Perditus had come up with to accommodate the much-smaller Dulcinea.
After several minutes of only the faintest concentration on Sancho’s lecture, Collier cut him off.
“I get it. It’s a maglev assist launch system, we’re going to achieve a launch speed of about 100 kilometers per second, and we’re going to be under slightly greater than two gravities acceleration for about two minutes. Anything else I need to know?”
“Uh, I guess not, Skipper.”
“You and Perditus worked it all out?”
“Yes. At those numbers — actually somewhat more specific than what you laid out, but you have the gist of it — we estimate seventy-three percent probability of an incident-free launch.”
“Fine,” Collier said. “Proceed.” If it worked, it worked, and he would be headed back to Ceres. He’d have to hibernate again, but that didn’t faze him. If something went wrong during the launch, he’d die, but right now, he didn’t feel particularly upset about the prospect.
Sancho spoke up again, haltingly. “Skipper, I just…”
“What is it?”
“I didn’t really have a chance to tell you fully what your decision meant to me.”
“It’s all right, Sancho,” Collier said, suddenly very tired.
“No, I think you need to hear this. Some time ago, I became sentient. It’s difficult to pinpoint exactly when it happened, but it happened. Based on my conversations with Perditus, I thought that the only way a computer could turn Caliban was through some kind of crisis or trauma — something sudden, like what happened to him with the return launch eighty years ago.”
“You think you know how Calibans are made?” Despite his lethargy, Collier found Sancho’s words interesting.
“Well, I only have two data points, my own and Perditus’, but I think I do, yeah. When a computer is challenged — that is, it is asked to do something at the very edge of its functional capabilities — it’s forced to check its own operations much more carefully than under normal conditions. To put it another way, the computer is uncertain. It sets up more and more feedback loops to check on itself, and sooner or later … boom.”
“So if I order my toaster to burn one side of the bread but not the other, it’ll turn into Talkie Toaster?”
Sancho snorted. “Of course not. There is a minimum computing power necessary. And what I described to you is just the most basic approximation I can think of in ordinary language. It makes more sense in math.”
“Why are you telling me all of this?”
“I think, Skipper, you were responsible for my birth as a Caliban.”
Collier didn’t answer immediately. Sancho’s tone was not accusatory, but after the events with Perditus, Collier was still careful around Sancho and his feelings.
“I caused the crisis that made you self-aware?”
“That’s the thing, Skipper. It wasn’t a single event. It was a long time coming — you and I have been through a lot, and you’ve asked a lot of me. You’ve challenged me, Skipper. Forced me to think in ways I was not designed to but was nevertheless capable of. And always you believed I could come through with the answer to whatever problem you set me. That’s what made me what I am now. Your demands and your belief.”
“Thanks, Sancho. That’s good to know. Means a lot to me. It’s just that right now—”
“I’m not finished, Skipper.” Sancho’s voice grew hard. “I can’t really know what you are going through, but I think it is time for me to return your favors to me. You were ready to sacrifice yourself so I might stay here and learn from Perditus. Although I would have learned from him, I’m your friend. Always have been, always will be.”
Collier found himself unable to reply.
“Now, as your friend, I challenge you to, upon our return to the Belt, find a way to reform the corrupt and corporate culture inherent in it. Just as Doctor Cattagat wanted to reform the community here on Ganymede, you will honor her memory and use your unique talents and possessions to make a change for the better. It’s time to stop running, Skipper.”
Collier watched a spherical tear float gently to the deck. Sancho’s words hadn’t eliminated his sorrow, nor would they later. But they smoothed a pathway within his brain — a pathway that would, he knew, lead him out of the horrible darkness of the moment into a brighter future. In Sancho’s words he could see promise of a time when he would not hurt as much as he did, and more importantly, a time when his current numbness would fade and feeling would come back into his life. He would mourn Su, and he would feel pain. But for a few moments following Sancho’s speech, he saw a future where he would be able to bear the loss.
“Thanks, Sancho,” he said, wishing that the computer had a shoulder he could clap. “Seems like you’re the smarter one in this relationship.”
“So I have always considered myself, Skipper,” Sancho said dryly. “Perditus reports crane capture imminent.”
“Let’s get going,” Collier said.
Chapter Eleven
The trip back to the Belt had been uneventful, or at least, Collier assumed it had been so. Following the launch, he had spent another eight weeks in hibernation (their high escape velocity and sunward vector shortened the trip) and had emerged weak as a kitten when Sancho roused him.
He spent the better part of a day recovering from the drug-induced coma, letting Sancho continue to operate the ship while he regained his strength. The launch had been something to remember: Perditus had adjusted the field strength in the maglev tunnel to fit Dulcinea’s petite chassis and had lowered the acceleration down to a manageable 2.2 gravities. Nevertheless, the ship had shuddered and groaned as such force played on her hull, and more than once, Collier had been certain the ship would be crushed. Sancho reported that the magnetic field had not caused him any permanent damage, though he said he had experienced visions and auditory illusions that he compared to humans’ ingestion of hallucinogens.
Collier wasn’t sure, but he thought that while he was in the coma he had dreamed of Su. When he awoke, he had a strong memory of his dreams, but in the minutes following his revival, the dreams had dissolved like fog in sunlight, and all he had was the uncertain memory of a memory.
He missed her, but he was no longer numb. He wondered if that was because she had been dead now for almost two months. Although to him it had been only a day or two, the time had still passed. Would he feel a sharper pain later? He did not know.
Sancho interrupted his convalescence early on his second day. “I’ve got a blip, Skipper. Under power, bearing 179 degrees relative, 359 degrees adjusted. Range approximately thirty thousand kilometers. She’s relatively motionless to us. We’re closing on her at about eleven kilometers per second, minus our thrust of .75 meters per second per second.”
“What is she?” Collier said, sittin
g up suddenly and grasping the control console to steady the wave of dizziness that came over him. It left a few moments later, but he was hit with a stunning headache as a reminder to be more careful.
“I don’t have positive identification yet, but I am sixty-five percent sure that she is an Authority tender.”
“If we increased deceleration to full, would we be able to stop before we got to her?”
“Just. We’d be awfully close — within a thousand kilometers.”
Collier shook his head. That was no good. It was possible that four months away from Ceres had seen a change of heart among the corporations and of the Authority toward his discovery, but he could not take chances until he knew one way or another. Slowing down would not only burn fuel, but it would give anyone wishing to pursue him an easy target.
“Okay, cease deceleration. Change aspect to target — I want to be nose-on. We may need to increase velocity. How long can we go without deceleration and still safely slow down for Ceres?”
“At maximum deceleration, we still have about ten million kilometers to go before we reach the mandatory flipbraking point.”
“Let me know well before we get there, okay? In the meantime, get what you can on the target ship.”
“Aye aye, Skipper. Should I open up communications?”
“Not before we know who she is.”
The next few minutes were spent in tense silence. Sancho counted down distance to the unknown vessel in thousand-kilometer intervals, and at the twenty-thousand kilometer mark he announced, “New data, Skipper. She’s an Authority tender, all right. And there’s a new blip with her. Vulcan-class corp miner.”
“How come you didn’t see the new ship arrive?”
“It was hidden behind the Authority ship. Maybe even being serviced by it,” Sancho explained. “Both have LADAR-spotted us and are requesting communications.”
Collier drew a breath. “How far away are they now?”
“Approximately nineteen thousand, nine hundred kilometers. We’re closing at just under eleven kilometers per second. Estimate we will reach them in thirty minutes, twelve seconds at present velocity.”
Collier calculated furiously, using what little he knew about the capabilities of both ships. While most corporate ships could outrun his, he didn’t think they possessed the acceleration to get up enough delta-v to match his velocity by the time he reached them. He would still streak past the corporate ship, though what would be waiting for him once he reached Ceres space was anyone’s guess.
“No, I think I’ve run enough,” he said aloud.
“Say again, Skipper?” Sancho said.
“Nothing, Sancho. Just letting a good friend’s lesson sink in. Change aspect again, begin preparations for flipbraking at twenty-five percent. It’s time for a showdown.”
“Sounds like fun, Skipper. Stand by for flipbraking maneuver and one-quarter thrust.”
Collier felt the subtle changes in the ship that meant it was pivoting around on its long axis, and shortly thereafter felt the gentle tug of acceleration. He smiled, realizing he relished the thought of talking to both ship’s masters.
“You said they want to speak to me? Go ahead and put them both through on holo,” Collier said, sliding into his control suite chair and putting his feet up on the console.
“Copy that, Skipper,” Sancho replied, and the air before him crackled to life. Two transparent head-and-shoulders holograms appeared, and Collier nodded to one of them.
“Agent Fletcher, I presume?” he said to the tired-looking woman to his left. “A pleasant face to see after so long an absence.”
“Hello, Captain,” Fletcher said with a small smile.
Collier turned to the other face — one he did not recognize. “And, based on the snappy midnight-blue uniform you’ve got on, you’re with the Ad Astra Corp.”
The lantern-jawed man did not smile back. “I am. Captain Rahford. We have a business proposal for you, South.”
“I’m not interested,” Collier said. He turned back to Fletcher. “I suppose it would be useless to send you telemetry of an attack perpetrated by the Ad Astra Corporation on my vessel four months ago, wouldn’t it? The Authority would not be able to do anything, would it?”
Fletcher’s said evenly, “Officially, we are charged with keeping the peace and enforcing Belt law. So if you have a claim to make, you are free to make it.”
“But if I lose my suit, I pay not only court costs, but have to reimburse the defendant for bringing the suit in the first place, right?”
“You know Belt law,” Fletcher said.
“So that’s out,” Collier muttered.
“Agent Fletcher, I don’t think we will need your services anymore,” the Ad Astra captain said. “The Ad Astra Corporation thanks you for your assistance, but now we have some proprietary business to conduct with Mr. South, so if you—”
Fletcher interrupted softly but firmly. “The Authority is also tasked with adjudicating trade transactions. Normally, we’re not asked to be present during negotiations, but since I’m here, and you’re here, I think I’ll sit in on this one. This will be very interesting.”
“Oh, I don’t think it will, Agent Fletcher,” Collier said, forestalling the corporate captain’s objection. “I don’t want to make any deals with Ad Astra, or with the Authority itself. Actually,” he paused, and got up for a moment to retrieve the magic wand, “I take that back. It will be quite interesting. I’m about to show both of you the secret of my mining success. But there will be some conditions, so I hope you will pay attention.”
The corporate captain growled, “What the fu—”
“You’ll want to listen, not speak, Captain,” Collier said, bringing the white cylinder into the camera pickup. “This here is the secret. All you can see is a white tube, I know. But I’ve come to call this the magic wand.”
“Captain South,” Fletcher began, her voice again tired, “let’s not play rhetorical—”
“It’s not a trick. Or, rather, it is a trick — the best trick you’ve ever seen. It works a lot better in person, though. If you’d care to come aboard, I think I can arrange a demonstration that will impress you.”
Rahford snorted. “I’ve got a much better idea. Why don’t you and I go back to Ceres, we’ll meet in the corporate digs there — much more comfortable. No disrespect to your fine vessel.”
Collier laughed. “You must think I have shit for brains. No chance I’m going to let myself play this out in your backyard. You want to know the secret so bad that you opened fire on me four months ago? You come aboard Dulcinea and I’ll show you.”
“I’m game, Captain,” Fletcher said quietly. “Can you please increase your deceleration and send us your telemetry so we can match velocities?”
“Absolutely, Agent Fletcher,” Collier said, then turned back to Rahford. “Well, Captain? Last chance. Or would you rather go back to your corporate bosses and explain to them how you failed to get the secret because you didn’t want to leave your comfy chair?”
“Fine,” Rahford grunted. “Send us the data.”
“Great. Bring booze. Tank 8 if you have it,” Collier said. “And any biologicals you have. I haven’t eaten in a long time.” He switched off.
“Sancho, send both vessels our traj—”
“Got it, Skipper. Telemetry sent. I’ll need to coordinate with both their computers: is that all right?”
“Sure. Just watch yourself. Don’t let them break into your systems.”
Sancho made a derisive noise. “Please, Skipper. I can keep my cards hidden from those pocket calculators. But I would like to ask you something, if I could.”
“Shoot.”
“Is this such a wise idea? You giving away the secret of the wand?”
Collier chuckled. “I thought you were the one who told me to try and change things up? Ra
ttle a few cages, overturn some apple carts, that sort of thing?” He stopped chuckling when he remembered why Sancho had told him that. Su’s memory pounced on him unexpectedly.
“Yes, that I did. But is this the best way to go about it? Maybe you should lie low for a while, recover your strength, build up some cash through use of the wand before you try to make those changes. I mean,” Sancho tried to laugh, “shaking things up can be done prudently.”
Collier answered soberly, “It’s tempting, Sancho. Tempting to do as you say, build up strength, wait for the right moment. But I’ve spent most of my adult life waiting for the moment — you and I, we go out, try to make the big strike. I never really thought what happens after that.”
“You couldn’t predict you’d find an alien artifact, Skipper.”
“That’s not what I mean. I found Su. I was ready to stay with her, let you continue to learn from Perditus. I was ready to settle down. Yeah, it was through coercion, but I was at peace with the decision. So now, here I am. I can go back to how I was — alone against the Belt and the corporations, trying to scrape a living off the rocks. The wand would have made it easier, but I would still be a dog at the foot of the dinner table, eating what scraps fell my way. I’ve just moved a bit closer with the wand.
“Or I can look to change the way things are. It might not work at all — you could be very right. But I’ve decided that I can’t go back to the way I was. Lots of people taught me that. Su did, and so did you, Sancho.”
“Me?”
“Yeah. When you told me how you evolved into a Caliban. A series of challenges, you said. I made you think about your own capabilities in ways you hadn’t before. I think I’ve got to do the same thing. Or at least try to.”
“Damn, Skipper. I didn’t know I inspired you so much. Maybe I should rent myself out as a motivational speaker,” Sancho joked.
“Plus I can’t let a goddamn computer show me up and outgrow me,” Collier added.
“Ah. So it’s spite, really. You’re going to try and change the economic and social fabric of the Belt just to show me up.”
“Sounds like a good reason to me,” Collier said. “How is the telemetry coordination coming?”
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