by J. K. Norry
“You’ll save so many others,” she said. “I’ll alert the people that he puts at risk by naming them, before it’s even over. I’ll tell you who got somewhere safe, and what to write in the log book. This will be a giant win for us.”
Link had stopped muttering, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes. She shook him, a little, and he glanced up.
“Link,” she said. “This is why you are here.”
He held her gaze, even as he shook his head.
“I thought this was a dream,” he said. “I’m still not so sure it isn’t. If my unconscious mind is trying to see if I am willing to torture someone, I think the way to win that one is to not do it.”
Even when she shook her head and frowned, she was beautiful.
“If this were a dream,” she said, “then it should be interpreted as a message from some aspect of your deeper self, alerting you that it is at war with some other part of your deeper self. You would be seeking to eradicate the part of you that is cruel and unfeeling, represented by The Admiral. Your unconscious would surely test your mettle in such a conflict, and see if you are up to serving your own highest good by doing something you might otherwise interpret as terrible.”
He was up against the wall at this point, and she had her hand on him again already.
“That sounds like something The Admiral would say,” he protested. “It doesn’t even make sense.”
She smiled, and patted his shoulder.
“Of course not,” she agreed. “Because this is not a dream. Your mind has not created this scenario, The Admiral did. This is a hard thing, and I understand that. But if you walk away, half of the fleet will die. Maybe more. Please stay here, Link. Please help us.”
Link sighed, and nodded. He had a good look at the thing she had given him, then he put it in his ear. It expanded, to fit in the most perfectly comfortable way, without dulling or amplifying his hearing at all. He sighed again.
“Tell me how to get where I’m going,” he said.
Her touch was gone, as she turned her back to him. In a few steps she had reached the opposite wall, and part of it disappeared. Link did his best to keep his eyes off the shifting contours of her body, and the alluring sway of her dark hair.
“I’ll do better than that,” she said. “I’ll show you.”
The hallway was still cluttered with people, and he whispered fiercely so they wouldn’t hear.
“Wait,” he said. “Aren’t we enemies? Should we be seen together?”
As she turned, Link dragged his eyes upward to meet hers. Her lips didn’t move, but he heard her speak just the same. He felt his eyes go wide, in surprise, until he remembered the thing he had put in his ear. That was where her voice was coming from, a device placed perfectly to sound in his ear like it did when she spoke.
“This body is not mine,” she said. “It belongs to a woman that is sympathetic to the cause, but not openly so. It is not strange for you to be seen with her, unless you continue to behave as though you have never kept company with a beautiful woman before.”
She pivoted again, and strode into the hallway. As Link began to follow, her voice came again in his ear.
“You can speak very quietly,” she said, “and I can hear you perfectly.”
Link passed a couple of people, walking together the opposite way, and smiled disarmingly at them both.
“Like this?” he said, under his breath. “Can you hear this?”
When she nodded, he could see her hair swaying with the motion. He stayed behind her, and kept his eyes on the walls and floor. The reaction that he had gotten from his friendly little smiles had him avoiding eye contact with others that passed. Less people filled the hallway than earlier, but they were all still moving at a pace just short of running. He noticed the bands of light on each of them, and how some had one and others had three. The people with a single chemical control band wore them wherever they pleased, and hung them from their bodies like jewelry. Most of them were on their wrists, while many were around their necks; Link only saw a few that wore the rings about their ankles.
Now that he knew, it was pretty clear who was what.
Telling them apart with any physical feature or mannerism would have been impossible, if not for the bands. The people were as youthful and healthy and flawless as the robots. It wasn’t the first time he had seen it, but he hadn’t taken particular notice of it. Making almost no sound, and moving his lips very little, Link asked her about it.
“Where are all the old people?” he said. “And why is everyone so...”
He searched for the word, watching more people pass out of the corner of his eye.
“Healthy,” he said, at last. “Why is everyone so healthy?”
Link saw her shoulders shake, and heard her laughter in his ear.
“Our bodies are all like machines,” she said, “both organic and artificial. We keep them properly maintained with foods dense in nutrients and daily exercise, and monitor them for problems. The chemical control bands take care of the rest, what little there is to take care of, until we reach the end of a cycle. Then we go to the regenerator, and begin our next cycle as youthfully as we began the last. That is why these people are walking, as they do every morning. A brisk morning walk every day has too many health benefits to ignore, so we pretty much all do it together.”
He was glad he was trailing behind her, so she couldn’t see the surprise on his face and chastise him for that too.
“What do you mean?” he said. “You are immortal? All of you?”
A slight shrug lifted her shoulders, and her words came in his ear.
“We weren’t always that way,” she said. “On our planet, we had a selection process for who would be renewed. Now, our numbers must grow. Unless someone has a valid argument for foregoing regeneration, we all go through it. Although we haven’t been on this journey for long, everyone in the fleet who was eligible for regeneration has gone through it. We face a different population problem than we did before, and it is once again up to all of us to solve it.”
She stopped abruptly, and Link nearly collided with her.
“Here we are,” she said. “Your duty lies on the other side of this wall.”
The complete absence of a framed doorway didn’t bother him. Link could see the placard on the wall, so much like so many others he had seen as they walked. Instead of words, they all had simple symbols on them. This one had a picture of bars, crossing over each other: it was the holding cells. It brought the gravity of the situation down on his shoulders once more, and Link felt them sag.
“I’ll be with you,” she said, in his ear.
Link nodded, and faced the wall resolutely. An opening appeared, and he strode through it as confidently as he could. He was glad that his presence was expected, and that it was easy to follow the series of sudden openings in solid walls to where he was headed. The thought that he was breaking into a prison that he would end up in if he was found out did not escape his attention, but he tried to pay it as little mind as possible.
Too soon, he was standing before a man strapped to a chair. He looked like a different person, and Link had to peer closer to identify him by his features. They were gaunt and hollow, deep lines etched in his countenance by the pain he had been enduring. Link noticed the man didn’t have a chemical control band on, and that it appeared as though he had not had any food or water since being strapped down.
Link glanced at the man behind the prisoner, sitting in a chair and watching the other’s bent frame twist further with each turn of the knob. The torturer met his eyes, and nodded.
He cranked the knob, and the prisoner cried out.
“You are in control here,” Link said.
The words surprised him as much as they did the other man, and Link crossed his arms over his chest as he examined where they had come from. His greatest fear was not knowing what to say, in any
situation that required words to navigate. While he had been searching, as he was accustomed to doing, something had slipped the simple phrase past his fumbling mind and through his lips. Link stepped aside, mentally, and let more words flow.
“You can end this pain,” he said. “All you need to do is tell me who is plotting against me, and your suffering will cease completely.”
The prisoner was tensed up, the whole time he spoke; when Link fell silent, he relaxed enough to look at him and answer. Link was as impressed with the attention the torturer was paying to the exchange as he was disturbed by the entire proceedings.
“You’ll kill them,” the man said. “After you kill me. I won’t betray them.”
Link laughed, unbidden and humorlessly.
“It’s in your character,” Link said. “You betrayed me. Actually, the only way to repair the damage you have done in betraying me is by betraying them. Give me their names, and I will set you free. I will give you a new assignment, and I will leave you alone. I give you my word, you shall have more freedom to move about unchallenged than any other member of this fleet.”
Link motioned to the man with the device, and watched the prisoner begin to twitch painfully. Fresh beads of sweat appeared on his brow, and his eyes seemed to sink further into his skull.
“Or,” Link said, calmly, “you can stay here forever. Cervice may have other allies, but so do I. My allies are prepared for war, while his are trained to avoid conflict. He is weak, as are his supporters. When he loses this battle, he will lose control of the fleet. I will remove his consciousness from the central computer, and there will be no chance of this happening again. During that, and forever after, you will stay in this room. You will receive the minimum amount of sustenance required for your survival, and you will be brought to the edge of death as often as you can handle it. If we take things too far, we will revive you and bring you to the edge of death again. You will receive regeneration treatment when it is called for, so that you can live forever in this state.”
Another subtle gesture, and the man began to convulse in response to the machine’s signals. Link felt a part of him wanting to cry out, and tell him to stop; another part of him thrilled at the sight, and had him leaning forward. He felt his own heart pounding, and his fists tightening painfully at his sides; Link bit his lip, to keep from shouting with agony or delight.
Link waved his hand, and the prisoner relaxed once more.
“Make your choice,” Link heard himself say. “Either way, this is the last time you will see me.”
The man was pouring sweat, and gasping for breath. Link wondered if the prisoner had even registered his words, as he pivoted in place and headed for the wall where he had come in. An opening appeared, and he strode toward it.
A voice called out behind him, withered and beaten.
“Wait,” the prisoner said. “The person helping the most is a woman that they are beginning to call The Speaker.”
Link stopped, and smiled. He spoke without turning.
“The Speaker is dead,” he said. “That is an elected position. And one that has been eliminated. She is treasonous, as are the people calling her that.”
As he spun slowly, he saw that the prisoner was nodding in agreement.
“Of course,” the man said. “I see that now. I will tell you all of their names, and I will accept your offer of redemption and mercy.”
Link nodded. He turned his attention to the man with the device.
“No more pain,” he said. “Leave us.”
Pleasure had lighted the torturer’s eyes while he was turning the knobs; a twist of slight irritation replaced the expression as he set aside the device and stood next to his seat. He gave the prisoner one last long look of disgust before he moved toward the gap that remained open in the wall.
“Don’t go far,” Link said, as he passed through the opening. “You’ll be escorting this man to his new post when we are done here.”
This time, the man’s disgusted stare was aimed at Link. It was the last thing he saw, before the opening in the wall closed behind his exit. Link listened to the names, paying as little attention to the information as possible. It wasn’t hard, since none of the names meant anything to him. Cervice was listening, and would do what it had to do.
When the man was finished, Link stepped to the wall once more. It opened, to reveal the torturer patiently waiting in the next room.
“Take this man to the main airlock,” Link heard his own voice say. “And give him more freedom to move about than anyone in the fleet.”
As one man’s face went from disappointment to thinly veiled glee, the other’s morphed from relief to terror.
“Admiral,” the prisoner said. “You told me I would get a new post.”
Link nodded.
“I did,” he said. “Your new post is in research. We have never monitored a chemical control band when it was attached to an otherwise uncovered living being exposed to space.”
The prisoner’s face fell even further, if that was possible.
“Uncovered?” he echoed.
Link was torn between feeling sick over the words coming from his own mouth and taking utter joy in them. The joy won out, and he smiled as he nodded at the prisoner once more.
“Your next post,” he said, “is a recently created assignment. The only way I could end your suffering, give you more freedom than anyone in the fleet and give you a useful post is to come up with a new one. You will float in space alongside the fleet, as a caution to those that would endanger our continued survival. It is perhaps the most important position ever created, and you will serve in that capacity forever. Do try to live as long as possible out there, so we can learn as much as we can from your passing. And try to smile. You will be out there forever.”
On his way through the opening, Link stopped but didn’t turn. He spoke one last time, while the prisoner could still hear him.
“Forever,” he said again, “or until your body drifts away.”
THIRTEEN
She was there waiting, when he stepped through the last sudden opening and into the corridor. Across the hall, he saw her watching him as he emerged. Link motioned to her, and she looked around confused.
“Help me,” he said.
Link felt himself sagging visibly; it took every bit of effort he had to subvocalize, instead of cry out to her. He watched her cross the space between them, and heard her voice in his ear despite a total lack of movement in her lips.
“Link?” She sounded shocked. “Is that still you?”
As soon as her hand fell on his arm, he started feeling better again. She led him with a gentle push at his elbow, and he let her. They passed through the corridors together, her guiding him and talking soothingly and soundlessly in his ear.
“You did so well in there,” she said, “I thought The Admiral took over, while you were talking. You must have learned a lot, reading his log. You sounded so much like him. It was disturbing.”
Link nodded, feebly.
“He did take over, in a way,” he muttered. “Those were not my words. Those were not my ideas.”
An image came to his mind, of a frozen body floating in space with nothing but a lighted bracelet on one of his wrists.
Link shuddered.
“I think I’m going to throw up,” he said.
The hand on his arm began to pat him lightly, as it guided him.
“I don’t think you can make me feel better,” he said.
She gave his elbow a little squeeze, and another series of pats. Despite his protestations and unwillingness to admit it, Link did feel a little better.
“You’ll be fine,” she said, without speaking. “Try to keep your voice down. You did great in there, you should be very proud of yourself. Think of the people you saved, not the one you sacrificed.”
Link nodded, tryin
g to bring up a thousand beautiful immortal faces he had never seen in his mind to blot out the image of the one he had.
“I still think I’m going to be sick,” he said.
Her hand kept guiding him, as her voice continued to soothe him.
“You’ll be fine,” she said again. “Just a little further, and you can write down what you need him to remember in the log book. His lack of memory will cast further doubt on his own mental faculties, as he sees events that he can verify and that have been recorded in his own hand but he has no memory of. This is a big win.”
Link frowned, shook his head.
“You never said anything about messing with his head,” he said. “That seems kind of unfair, to deliberately make him doubt himself.”
The squeeze was harder this time, and Link stiffened.
“Keep your voice down,” she reminded him. “This is war, Link. We must press every advantage we can get. The electromagnetic field that we generated to surround the fleet is not doing the job it was designed for properly. People’s memories are beginning to slip, and several cases of acute amnesia have occurred. Everyone has come back, so far; but the lapses are getting worse, and all of us are in danger of being affected.”
Link made sure to whisper, such that his lips barely moved.
“Even you?” he asked.
“Especially me,” she said. “I don’t just rely on the field for continuity, like everyone else; I monitor it, and maintain it. If I forget to do that...”
She trailed off, and Link saw the small sea of faces behind his eyes begin to twitch and cry out. It was his imagination, a daydream within a nightmare; but somehow that made it seem more real than any of it.
A gentle pull on his elbow slowed him, and they stepped sideways into his chambers together as the wall opened up to admit them. Link went to the chair, in front of the log, and slumped into it.
“Hurry,” she said. “We don’t know how much time we have left. You’ve never kept control of him this long.”
Link sat up straight, and lifted the stylus from where it sat on the desktop. It lit up as he did, and he touched it to the flat screen under the last entry. She began to speak, and he began to write. All of his will was bent on imitating that strange shorthand, and keeping himself from vomiting on the record. When her voice began to sound like it was coming from very far away, Link turned in the seat and looked up at her.