by J. K. Norry
“That’s ridiculous,” he said, desperately. “Do you hear what you’re saying? Look at me. I’m The Admiral.”
They each glanced at him, then at each other. One of them laughed. They halted before the doorway that had led him to Cervice before, just short of triggering it to open.
“Whoever you are,” one said. “You will be held here until you can prove you are who you say you are. It’s clear that you aren’t, right now.”
The other stepped forward, and an opening appeared in the wall. Beyond the doorway the room was vacant. Link could tell that they were watching him closely, and he tried not to react in any way to the empty room. He let them coax him inside, and the door slid into place behind him.
Link looked around, trying not to give away what he was looking for to any electronic eyes. He found nothing, no evidence to either suggest that Cervice had been discovered or had gotten away. Every now and then he shouted a vague answer to their question, assuming someone could hear.
“Cervice is with all of us!” he tried first, remembering what The Admiral had said in the assemblage earlier. After half a minute passed with no response, he tried again.
“Cervice is in our legends,” he said, feeling pathetic.
The answer could well be that he was on the run, or back in a body that looked just like he did as The Engineer. Link couldn’t take that risk, though; if they didn’t know where or who he was, telling them would both give them information they didn’t have and still be the wrong response. He would be locked up, while they were free to go about searching with renewed vigor and further insight.
Link frittered away the moments he had in the other man’s body, hoping against all hope that the answer to the question was not that Cervice was locked up and being tortured somewhere. He wondered if the robot could shut off the pain, or if he would have to endure it like anyone else. Every time he thought of a possible response that was vague enough to shout out, he did so.
No reply ever came.
TWENTY SIX
At last, Link woke again in his own body. He thought of taking another single pill immediately, to jump back into The Admiral’s mind as an observer; if he was quick enough, he might hear the answer they were looking for and be able to use it later. Experience told him it would not be so easy; missing the moment would make it a worthless trip, and he would be locked in as a helpless bystander until the pill wore off.
His phone was on the nightstand. Link seized it and pressed the home button, wondering first what day it was and second what hour. Nothing happened, and he realized the battery had died sometime in the last however many days of solid useless sleep he had gotten. One question could be answered by glancing at the alarm clock. Padding into the living room, he plugged the device in and let it be. The other answer had to wait until his phone had charged a few minutes. Link made himself a cup of coffee while he waited, and sipped at it mechanically.
The warm brew tasted even more off, somehow. Link was sure it was the fact that he wasn’t eating much, although he still had no desire to rustle up a few bites to go with the sweetened caffeine. After a few more sips he went to check the expiration date on the creamer. If anything, the number of weeks before a dairy based product was set to be tossed should have been alarming: it was nowhere near expiring.
Link tilted a little more of the sugary stuff into his mug, and put the container back in the refrigerator. Sipping at it as he moved, ignoring the metallic aftertaste, he made his way to the living room to check his phone. He sighed, relieved at the date. Although it was the first day of the year today, he had the next day off to celebrate the holiday. Ordinarily he would have thought it was a great way to start a new year, having the first Monday off paid. Now he took it as a sign, telling him he had a purpose to fulfill and giving him one more chance to do it.
Yawning, Link slurped the remainder of his coffee and headed for the bedroom once more. He couldn’t believe how tired he felt, but he supposed it was for the best. The most important thing he had to do awaited on the other side of sleep, after all. He took two pills, and lay down in his pajamas.
The Admiral was on his way somewhere. At first it seemed right there in his thoughts, and Link reached out mentally to snare it. Like a drifting dream, it slipped away; and Link was left alone in another’s quiet mind. He tried to let his feet move on their own, and perhaps follow the path they had been programmed by his subconscious to take. Instead he stood there motionless in the hallway, with no motivation but his own.
He dared not stand around too long, or act out of sorts in a public area. If any of The Admiral’s people challenged him, Link would end up spending more time locked away and unable to act at all. He had to think, and figure out where Cervice would be if he was still alive. As soon as he moved past a junction in the corridors he grew increasingly uneasy. Link knew he may be drawing suspicion by not heading one way or another to some appointed meeting. He hadn’t made it a dozen steps before he stopped again, and turned in his tracks.
They had only ever met in a handful of places. The Admiral’s quarters were out of the question, as was the cramped similar space Cervice had occupied for a short period. Cervice didn’t even know Link had seen them interacting in the command center, and that wasn’t a likely place to hide anyhow. Only one place stood out in his memory, and Link headed there without hesitation. He prided himself on his purposeful stride, and making no outward sign of his internal alarm. Every person he passed wore only one chemical control band, and openly displayed their bare limbs. Link was either looking for the last artificial on the ship or for something that was not there at all.
Stepping into the cafeteria, Link was glad to find it deserted. He poked his head into the hallway, made sure the coast was clear, and stepped back inside. He called out quietly.
“Cervice,” he said. “Are you here?”
Nothing happened.
“It’s Link,” he added, hopefully.
He remembered then that The Admiral knew his name somehow. What if he had tried this same trick, and lured Cervice out with it?
Link felt his heart begin pounding at the thought, and he turned in a slow circle with his hands over his face. Shaking his head, he dislodged the thought and had another.
“Did The Admiral try this already?” he said. “Did he fail because you’re gone or because he didn’t have enough information?”
After stepping one foot into the corridor once more, and having a good look in both directions, Link went on.
“I don’t care about your people,” he said. “I mean, your history and stuff. I care about saving you, but I hate it when you drone on about where you all come from.”
Link chuckled.
“Get it?” he said. “Drone?”
No reply was forthcoming, as he turned another slow circle.
“You think I’m totally inept,” he sighed, finally. “You have shown very little confidence in me helping you effectively from the moment we met.”
A panel disappeared in the wall, and a service robot trundled out. It got close, and he knelt to its height as it neared.
“Link?” The voice was flat and artificial, but relieved.
Link nodded enthusiastically, and found himself fighting back tears. He wanted to hug the contraption, but couldn’t see a way to comfortably put his arms around it. Instead he stood up, stepped back and looked down at it.
“I’m so glad you made it,” Link whispered.
Two appendages sprouted mechanically from the robot’s sides, and gestured vaguely at the rest of it.
“This is hardly what I would consider making it,” it said.
Link beamed, despite himself.
“At least you’re alive,” he said. “In some form. Do you have any ideas? What can we do?”
The robot was still, after retracting its appendages once more. Link remembered how nice it had been to be able to re
ad Cervice’s expressions, even if only for a little while.
“Right now,” it said, finally, “is not a good time. We would look suspicious together, and the last thing you need to do is arouse suspicion.”
Link shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other.
“Um...” he said. “About that...”
The robot rolled backward a bit and then forward again, the only emotional reaction it could muster.
“Have you been discovered?” it demanded.
Link nodded.
“I spent my last tour of duty in custody,” he said.
A whirring sound emitted from the housing of the metal device, as if Cervice was trying to sigh with inadequate audio options.
“I suspected as much. That means right now is definitely not the time,” it said. “Unless you are prepared to shoot anyone we see on the way.”
Reaching down to lightly finger the pistol The Admiral always wore on his hip, Link pulled his hand away like it was hot to the touch.
“I don’t know if I can...” he began. “On the way where?”
“I’ve got to try to get back in,” Cervice said. “You need to take me to the main interface, and help me download back into it.”
Link felt his eyes go wide, and he waved his hands a little frantically.
“They will be guarding that, don’t you think?” he bristled. “And how do you even know it will work? What if they locked you out permanently? Or set a trap for you? Didn’t you say that would take awhile? How can I hold on that long?”
The robot waited patiently, until he was done.
“This is our last chance, Link,” it said. “There is no more being careful, or biding our time. I have stayed out of his reach as long as I can. Surely The Admiral has separated the fleet by now, and is preparing to annihilate the artificials and anyone that has chosen to stand beside them. We must act, tonight.”
Link fidgeted uselessly.
“What if it doesn’t work?” he repeated.
The robot didn’t hesitate.
“We shut it down,” it said. “We shut it down and reboot, and hope for the best when everything comes back online.”
Stepping back, Link shook his head.
“Doesn’t that shut down everything?” he said. “And everyone?”
“It does,” the robot responded. “It also puts all of our navigation, weapons and service systems on automatic. Everyone lives, but no one remembers who they used to be.”
Link was still shaking his head, incredulous.
“Even you,” he pointed out. “Right?”
“Even me,” Cervice said. “A sacrifice I am willing to make, if it ensures the survival of so many people.”
Sighing heavily, Link stepped forward and knelt down again.
“Wait,” he said. “Just give me a little time. Let me ride along and watch again, and find out what he knows and exactly what he is doing. There has to be a way to stop him that doesn’t involve me finding out if I have it in me to kill people.”
The contraption slid silently away from him, toward the panel that disappeared as it approached. It called back to him as it moved.
“That’s your concern,” it said. “A question you must answer for yourself. If you do answer it, and find that you still want to help, you will see that I am correct. Then it becomes a matter of using the weapon skillfully, something I am not certain you can do. In any case, be quick. We may already be too late.”
It stopped, before going through the opening.
“You know I must serve him food,” it said. “I clear his dirty dishes when he is done. I wonder the whole time if he has found me out, and is here to destroy me before he moves on to the next course.”
Link knew the robot couldn’t reproduce the subtle tones that a human or artificial throat could. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder how it felt inside that awkward metal box as the panel slid back into place without a sound. Cervice seemed more confident in his own demise than he was in Link’s ability to help.
He was not so sure the robot was wrong.
TWENTY SEVEN
For the first time in a good long while, Link slept soundly through the night. He woke feeling as refreshed as he could hope to, and even made a little bowl of oatmeal to go with his coffee. Although he’d had a good night’s sleep, Link began to feel tired almost immediately. He knew one good sleep was not enough to get caught up, so it didn’t worry him. After the oatmeal had settled, and the coffee was gone, he took a single pill and crawled between the sheets.
Link had never really troubled himself with wondering about things like God, or whether some kind of higher power existed. He felt insignificant enough around other people; it was hard for him to imagine a person or power so important paying him any special notice. If there was something out there, surely she or he or it had better things to worry about than whether or not someone who would rather literally do nothing ever again believed deeply in it or him or her.
Now, he had to wonder. Either Cervice was right, and some kind of mathematical justice existed in the universe after all; or he was way more lucky in this world than he was in his own.
The Admiral was somewhere Link had never seen, but it only took a moment of watching from behind the other man’s eyes before he figured it out. Together, they faced a wall that looked more formidable than the other metal walls on the ship somehow. The Admiral was holding his pistol before him, aiming at the only thing that stood between them and the wall. Another piece of dark metal, it was shaped like a figure and affixed to the floor.
When The Admiral squeezed off a round, it did not surprise him any more than it did the other man. He was right at the edges of his own consciousness, open and deliberate with his thoughts. The piece of metal that disappeared would have been the figure’s left eye, if it had one. Instead a perfect round hole appeared, smoked slightly for the space of a slow breath, and promptly disappeared. Like the doorways, metal swam and shifted and reformed seamlessly.
The Admiral pulled the trigger again.
Once more, a hole formed suddenly in the lifeless hunk of metal. This one was dead center, and would have been a shot right between the eyes. The Admiral nodded quietly to himself, and made another hole in the same spot as soon as the figure reformed. Link listened carefully to the other man’s thoughts, and paid special attention to the way he held the weapon and where he put his eyes. The next twenty minutes or so were like an advanced lesson in marksmanship, and Link felt confident he was learning a great deal more than he could have spending all day with the pistol and the target and his own inexperienced mind.
The next place The Admiral went reminded Link that his luck was not always so good, and the other man shut his mind down once more as he sat in the private space and did his natural space business. It gave Link the opportunity to think maybe there was more truth in the East, and their way of seeing things. Perhaps for every great good to exist, there must be a great evil to balance it. Or at least something really disgusting.
Link didn’t notice the lack of energy in The Admiral’s steps until he made it where he was headed next, and approached a man in a very similar uniform.
“Admiral, sir,” the man said, standing to attention.
Slowing his steps, The Admiral spoke gruffly.
“Dark Star Pilot,” he said. “Carry on.”
The Admiral shifted, and began to move past him.
“Sir,” the pilot said, stepping in front of him. “I’m sorry, but—”
“Cervice is in our midst,” The Admiral spat. “I believe that is the one for today. Or you could try to fight me. Rumor has it the imposter can’t handle himself, and I’m down for a quick tumble.”
The pilot stepped aside.
“Of course, sir,” he said. “Carry on. You just...look different today. Maybe you’re tired. Have you been getting your rest?
”
The Admiral shook his head.
“I can’t trust myself to go to sleep,” he muttered. “It’s only for another day or two. In the meantime, I’m taking sleep pills to stay sharp. As soon as our enemy no longer threatens our lives, I will get caught up on my rest. I appreciate your concern. Status update.”
The man straightened abruptly, and walked away from him. The Admiral followed, and soon they stood before the screen Link had seen on his first visit to the ship. Where a starry landscape had stretched to infinity before, the area was so cluttered with ships that Link could count the number of distant suns still visible on one hand. He reeled inside the other man’s mind as he tried to tally the spaceships.
From the size of a travel trailer camper to what he could only describe as a small planet, the number of vessels in sight was not in the hundreds. It may not have been in the thousands, even. Link stopped trying to count, or group them in rough estimates he might add together, and let his mind simply boggle for a long shocked moment. He wondered how many people each ship could hold, and how many of them would be nothing but space dust soon if he did nothing to stop it.
Some of them were distinctive in their design, and looked almost nothing like the others. Most of the ships were the same basic layout, however; as if one mind had engineered a model, and scaled the others in size while duplicating every outer aspect of it endlessly. A central globe was the bulk of the design, and all of them rotated at what appeared to be varying speeds; it was hard to tell, with the size differences and the sheer number of crafts in the small amount of space. Each globe was spinning on the axis created by the other part of the craft. Curved and slim, metal arms reached around the sphere to embrace it at opposite ends. Where the arms came together, small to giant engines jutted out behind it to propel the entire mechanism through space.
The common design meant nothing to Link, but the sheer number of ships was overwhelming. Each of them glowed with their own diffused light, and the overall effect was astounding. Like a city in full dark, the ships made their own skyscape with no ground to attach to and no moon to compete with. A full minute passed before he realized a conversation was happening, and that he should be listening to what was being said. Link tried to ignore the awesome sight on the giant screen, and tune into the exchange.