by J. K. Norry
Link thought on that, and decided to amend it.
“All of you,” he said. “He wants to get rid of all of you.”
Cervice said nothing, for so long that Link began to wonder quietly to himself. Soon he couldn’t keep it quiet any longer.
“Did you mess with the EMF generator?” he said. “Was that why the memory issues began? And did you program artificials to—”
“Enough, Link,” Cervice said, cutting him off. “We don’t have much time. Once the other artificials have left the ship, they will scan for whoever is remaining. I can’t hide from that, and I can’t show my face. You’ve got to act decisively, Link; and you’ve got to do it now.”
Link slid back into his seat, as far as it would allow. He crossed his arms in front of him, and frowned.
“What do you mean?” he said. “What do I need to do?”
The robot glanced down, and Link followed his electric eyes. When they fell on the weapon at his hip, they both looked up at the same time. Cervice fixed his gaze on him, and nodded.
“It’s very simple to operate,” he said. “Simply put it to your head, and pull the trigger. It will be over immediately, and you’ll be back in your world and your own body. Maybe it would be better if you put it in your mouth, and aimed upward at the brain. You don’t want to miss.”
Link let his jaw drop open, and he stared incredulously at the robot.
“You want me to kill myself?” he whispered.
“Of course not,” Cervice scoffed. “I want you to kill The Admiral. I want you to live a long life on your planet knowing that you saved my people. The only way you can do that now is by doing this. You must see that.”
Holding his hand out before him, Link realized that he was trembling uncontrollably. He shook his head, trying to clear it, and only succeeded in disorienting himself further. Thoughts that were not his own began to race through his mind; Link gritted his teeth, and stood abruptly.
“He’s coming back,” he hissed. “I’ve got to get out of here.”
Cervice stood as well, and ushered Link out into the hallway. He called out quietly, as Link stumbled away from him.
“Get as far away as you can,” Cervice said.
Link glanced back, and saw that the door had closed. He moved along the wall as quickly as he could, leaning on it for support every few steps, until he lost complete control and catapulted back into his own body.
TWENTY FOUR
The most terrifying moments for him were the ones he spent helplessly staring out from behind The Admiral’s eyes, wondering what horrible thing he would say or do next. Link could think of no other way to solve this situation, however; short of putting a gun in the other man’s mouth, it was all he could come up with. He knew there was limited time, and great risk; but he also knew that he needed to exhaust all other possibilities before going for the most extreme option.
He went right from meeting with Cervice to popping a single pill and inhabiting The Admiral silently. The routines the other man went through suddenly took on a new meaning for Link. He watched The Admiral’s thoughts as best he could, and found himself admiring how ordered and clear the mind he was inhabiting kept itself. Even the absent awareness that he gave his breathing and eating was of special interest to Link now; he watched the other man from the inside, alert for any line of thinking that might lead to a solution other than the one Cervice had proposed.
Another visit to the restroom was not as appalling as Link had found it before. Every activity The Admiral engaged in began to look like an opportunity to perform some ritual for the last time. No matter how mundane the task, Link could see some deeper meaning in the way the other man performed it that said something particular about him. Yet rather than soften his heart or give him pause, what he saw only strengthened his resolve. This man was mad, in a way that would hurt others if he could.
When he woke up, Link swallowed another pill immediately and took up his watchful post once more. Every moment he looked out from those eyes only served to convince him completely that he had to do what Cervice had asked of him. The man spoke to others as if they weren’t human, even when they were. He presumed only he could lead all of those people, and that he should not have to consult anyone in making his decisions.
Link’s doubts had arisen around some of the things The Admiral had said about Cervice. Now he realized that it was surely projection; The Admiral had become all the things he had been accusing the robot of being all along. No evidence existed of Cervice’s supposedly nefarious intentions; with every meeting The Admiral had, every word he spoke or thought, the evidence against him mounted in Link’s mind.
The next time he woke up, The Admiral was just getting to his chambers. The young woman he had been colluding with from the beginning was there, waiting. She stepped up to him and threw her arms around him, right there in the hallway. Link had seen no more telling indication that they felt victory was already theirs, the way they held each other openly and laughed. Link let the thread go, to give the other man another last moment in privacy.
In his own body, Link went to the bathroom and went through his own mundane routine. A quick glance in the mirror surprised him; there was less stubble on his face than he had expected, and he had apparently lost a few pounds. He brushed his teeth and showered, made himself a cup of coffee and scrambled two eggs. It was all like the toothpaste, dull and chalky and flavorless. Link left the unfinished cup and half the eggs on the end table in the living room, abandoning the comfort of his easy chair for the mussed familiarity of his bed.
Half of his mind was bent on not thinking about what he had to do, while the other half was intent on steeling him for the event; it left nothing for bodily sensations like flavor or comfort. Link lowered himself to the mattress in his pajamas and let his internal battle rage on for a few more minutes. The Admiral should be going to sleep soon, and Link was determined to make sure the other man never woke up again.
He took two pills, swallowed them dry and lay down once more. The pounding thrum of his heartbeat kept him awake for several minutes, but eventually the spinning sensation started. Link let himself be washed away by it, hoping with all he was that this would be the last time.
The Admiral’s chambers were dark, and the woman was gone. Link sat up in the other man’s bunk, and looked around for the pistol. His eyes fell on a half dozen things he had seen many times and never asked about; he mused sadly that he would never know. Once he found the weapon, Link went to The Admiral’s desk and sat down. The log was there, laid out flat and as devoid of new entries as every other time he had looked at it lately. Link considered writing some kind of suicide note, but thought better of it and shook his head.
He had one last good look around, the memories of the experiences he’d had on this ship washing over him. Tears filled The Admiral’s eyes, and Link let them fall down the other man’s face.
Opening his mouth, Link put the barrel between his teeth.
He closed his eyes, and more tears leaked out. Link squeezed the trigger, or tried to; the command wasn’t obeyed, and he opened his eyes to look at the offending digit.
“No.”
Link whirled, and the gun went clattering to the floor. Of course he was alone; there had been no voice behind him. He picked up the pistol once more, and moved it toward his face.
“NO!”
He dropped the weapon, but this time it wasn’t him dropping it. That voice had not been behind him; it had been inside his head. Inside The Admiral’s head. Link waited, listening. When he realized there was nothing but silence to listen to, he let out a heavy sigh. In the time he had remaining, he went to find Cervice.
The robot was not pleased to see him.
“Why is he still alive?” Cervice demanded.
Link spread his hands.
“I tried,” he said. “Some primal instinct took over. He stopped
me.”
The robot sat up straight, his eyes going wide.
“He stopped you?” he said.
“No, not him.” Link shook his head. “Some unconscious part of him. So far as I can tell, he has no idea what we are trying to do.”
Cervice collapsed back into his chair, dejected.
“It doesn’t matter either way,” he said. “If you can’t take him out, we are powerless to prevent his plan.”
Link frowned, and stomped his foot.
“I refuse to accept that,” he said. “I know I can still do something. At the very least, I can keep him out of his own body as much as possible. How much harm can he do if I just keep taking the pills?”
The robot perked up a little.
“You may as well try,” Cervice said. “We’ve got some time. Apparently many of the service droids on the ship utilize a type of artificial intelligence that helps them learn and avoid repeating mistakes. They are teaching the computer to distinguish between these and the sentient artificials, but it is not going to be easy.”
Link felt his eyes light up, and he snapped The Admiral’s fingers.
“I’ll give orders,” he said. “I’ll tell everyone that I changed my mind, and that we need to stop separating and try to recover you electronically. You can just show up, and take control again.”
Cervice laughed, bitterly.
“I was never in control,” he said. “I was the bridge between a people and its creation, which had surpassed them. I was the only way for both people and artificials to work together, to live together, and to find a new home together. The only way the fleet can act as one is if I am directing that interface. I would need undisturbed access to the central computer for some time to reengineer the interface. At some point you would have to relinquish The Admiral’s body to him, even if only for a few minutes. He would act quickly, and decisively.”
Throwing up his hands, Link cried out.
“Can’t you just kill me?” he exploded.
The robot shook his head.
“Of course not,” he said. “Artificials can’t harm humans.”
Link paced the small space even less effectively than he could his living room.
“What about the back door?” he said. “Isn’t there a back door?”
After a moment’s confusion, Cervice shook his head again.
“The back door for what?” he said. “For artificial propagation? Are you aware that we can’t reproduce ourselves? Without humans, artificials would inevitably die out. The only things we can’t do is reproduce or hurt people, and those are abilities we need to live on as a race. Unfortunately, the back door does not actually become viable until decades after one of us has seen a living human. That’s why it’s a back door; it is to be activated only in the worst conditions. It has been activated, but it will not come online in time for us to do anything. Even this body I inhabit required that a human be part of its creation.”
Link did his best to ignore the robot’s dejected tone and body language. He crossed his arms resolutely, and gave Cervice a steely stare.
“I can still help,” he said. “I’m sure of it.”
The robot waved an artificial hand
“Do what you will, Link,” he said. “It can’t get much worse.”
TWENTY FIVE
Link let The Admiral get his sleep, while he tossed and turned in his own bed. The rest was not refreshing, like it had been before; any connection between sleep and renewal he’d had seemed like it had been severed by his new connection to another world. Link was convinced that would change, once he fulfilled the purpose Cervice had spoken of. His only good reason for sleeping without taking any pills was that The Admiral was in a sleep cycle himself. They may as well both get their rest, even if it did neither of them any good.
The nightmare landscape of the other man’s mind while he slept still haunted Link. Taking a single pill and witnessing that twisted carnival of thoughts and feelings and images was the last thing he wanted to consider. Even in his waking moments, in his own life, he felt the knuckles of The Admiral’s mind dragging through the soupy morass of his own thoughts. He had learned all he needed to with one night in that hell, and there was little he wouldn’t do to keep from returning.
If he took two pills, he may be in control again; but what good could he do? Without the ability to literally pull the trigger, Link would be completely in charge and totally helpless all at the same time.
As the night wore on, Link spent more time waking up and wondering than he did actually sleeping. He racked his brain whenever it was not dozing or spinning helplessly, and gave up finally when the first rays of sunlight squeezed through the narrow cracks in the bedroom blinds. Getting up, he brushed his teeth and showered with almost zero attention on the tasks as he performed them. In the refrigerator, he reached past the eggs to seize the creamer. Coffee sounded better than food, and even that precious brew tasted of a habit long since broken. After only half the cup was gone, Link poured the rest out and padded into his bedroom once more.
He still wasn’t certain what he was going to do, but Link knew he had to do something. Shaking two of the pills out of the bottle and into his hand, he tossed them into his mouth together. He swallowed, nodded resolutely and tossed back the comforter and top sheet. Part of him couldn’t believe how badly he wanted to drift off again, while another part of him wondered why he would want to do anything other than sleep. The tug of war didn’t last long, however; soon Link felt his mind moving through space, and into the other man’s body.
The Admiral had clearly been awake for awhile, and Link delighted in having missed both his morning walk and breakfast. He went immediately to the other man’s chambers, and rushed to the log where it was sprawled open on the desktop. Surely he had caught up by now, and Link could figure out what to do next based on what he had written.
He slowed as he approached the slim sheet, and saw that there was indeed a new entry. Two lines stood out on the page, written in big block letters that called out to him from several feet away. Link stopped short, and read the simple sentences.
I KNOW WHO YOU ARE, LINK.
YOU HAVE ALREADY LOST.
As soon as he read his own name in the other man’s hand, Link felt his heart begin to pound. He pivoted in place and bolted for the door, nearly colliding with the metal as it slid away to create the opening. Every corridor seemed ten times longer than it had before, and he raced desperately down each of them with no concern for the few curious onlookers he passed. At last he came to the hallway that would take him to Cervice, and sprinted around the corner. Link saw the outpost right away, and slowed his steps.
Two men stood bracketing the entrance, facing forward. They both turned as he bounded up the hallway, and gave him a respectful nod. Link continued toward them at a measured pace, trying to hide his panic. As he got close, he called out to them.
“You boys look hungry,” he said. “Stand down, and go get something to eat. I’ll take the situation from here.”
He finished speaking as he neared them, and walked as though he expected them to move further apart. Instead they crowded together, and blocked his way. They exchanged a look of uncertainty, but held their ground. After a pause, and another doubtful glance, one of them spoke.
“Admiral,” he said. “As per your orders, I must ask you a question.”
Link felt like a balloon that had sprung a sudden leak. He tried to keep his shoulders straight, and feign impatience.
“Out of my way,” he said. “I’ve got to get in that room.”
The sentries shifted, and looked at each other once more; neither of them moved, except to come a little closer together.
“Admiral,” the sentry repeated. “As per your orders—”
“Ask me,” Link snapped, cutting him off. “Stop wasting my time.”
For a moment L
ink thought they were going to respond to that, and put some space between them. Both men were clearly uncomfortable with deliberately standing in his way. Then they looked at each other again, and the sentry that had remained silent spoke.
“Sir,” he said. “Where is Cervice?”
Link made every effort he could to comb The Admiral’s mind for the answer they expected. A strange kind of silence answered his search, even more distant and empty than the senseless mumble he had grown accustomed to. He looked at the door, wishing it would open, and heard his heart pounding frantically in his chest.
“He’s dead,” Link blurted, finally. “Cervice is dead.”
Without warning, one of the men leapt forward and seized his arm. The other held back, confusion twisting his face, and Link tore free while he hesitated. He dashed up the hallway, reaching for the pistol at his side as he ran. Footsteps thudded on the steel floor behind him, and both men began shouting. Link kept running, the gun in his hand, and didn’t look back.
They were both faster than him. The first one tackled him easily, and knocked the gun from his grasp. The second piled on before they hit the floor together, and Link found himself suddenly at the bottom of a heavy and suffocating heap. His arms were yanked painfully behind him, and his hands were bound before he could get his bearings. One of the men stood up and yanked him painfully to his feet, while the other regained his own footing. They marched him back towards the door he had been trying to get through, speaking as if he was no longer there.
“It’s true, then,” one man said. “The Admiral was right.”
Link could see the other man nod from the corner of his eye.
“I guess so,” he said. “There’s no way this is him. The Admiral would never go down so easy, or do such an awful job defending himself.”
Pulling at them as they led him through the first door, Link felt them move with him. He tried to shove his way into one of them, and got yanked off balance to smash painfully into the other.