The Cyborg and the Sorcerers

by Lawrence Watt-Evans

  Ahnao moaned and sank to her knees. Slant ignored her as she vomited onto the floor; he understood her reaction, as he felt none too well himself. He had no time to be sick, however, as he wrapped the head in canvas, making as neat a parcel as he could, being careful not to get blood on the outside of the wrapping. He found string on a nearby shelf and tied the bundle closed as best he could manage. Just as he finished he heard footsteps and the rattle of the bead curtain; in an instant he had dragged Ahnao to her feet, one arm around her neck, holding the package by the string, and his other hand pointing the snark at her head. She cringed, trying to back away from the bundle and simultaneously avoid the snark.

  The drapes parted, and a tall, thin man wearing the black robe of a wizard appeared. Gray hair reached to his shoulders, and he gazed at the cyborg from watery blue eyes.

  "Hello, Slant," the newcomer said.

  "Hello, Furinar. Stay where you are. If you take another step toward me, I will kill Ahnao."

  "You have a hostage."

  "Yes."

  "You told Kurao that protective spells can't stop that weapon."

  "That's right. I can tell when you're using magic, too; if you try any, I'll kill her."

  There was a moment of silence; the computer said, "Recommend immediate departure. Additional enemy personnel may be nearby."

  "Just a moment." He looked Furinar in the eye and said, "You wizards can tell truth from lies. Listen, then. It's possible that you could kill me, one way or another, but I suggest that you not try it. If I die, the demon that possesses me, a relic of the Bad Times, will destroy your entire city. If I reach my ship safely, with this package, I will let the girl go, unharmed, and I hope that I will be able to leave your world forever without harming anyone else."

  "The package holds Kurao's head."

  "That's right."

  "What do you want it for?"

  "The demon wants to learn how a wizard's brain differs from an ordinary one; it doesn't care if the wizard is alive or dead. Once it knows how magic works, we can leave here. Now let me go."

  "I cannot stop you." The wizard stood aside, holding back the velvet drapery so that Slant could pass unhindered.

  He prodded Ahnao forward with the snark, and the two of them marched past Furinar. When they reached the door of the shop, Slant took his arm from her neck and moved the snark to point at her back, making sure she knew it was still there. None of the three said anything further, and the two of them walked out onto the street

  No one interfered as they made their way through the city streets; at the gate the watch simply stood aside and let them pass. Slant guessed that Furinar had contacted them somehow, perhaps through another wizard, and told them to do nothing that might have unpleasant results.

  Once they were out of the city Slant relaxed slightly; he did not put the snark away, but carried it loose in his hand instead of keeping it pointed at the girl. Neither of them spoke; they had nothing to say to one another. Ahnao cast occasional wary glances at Slant, and several times he thought she was going to say something, perhaps ask a question, but she never did. She made no complaint as they walked, though she was obviously not accustomed to traveling such a distance on foot.

  When they were a few kilometers from the city Slant glanced back and noticed specks hanging in the sky, following them; the computer confirmed his suspicion that Furinar had recruited other wizards, six in all, and that the seven were following nun at a distance. The seven were moving gravitational anomalies to the computer, of course, but Slant knew they were wizards.

  They stayed well back, however, and Slant paid them no heed beyond glancing back every few moments to make sure they kept their distance.

  Their presence did not seem to worry the computer, either; it made no suggestions or complaints.

  Well after dark they arrived at the edge of the gully that bid the ship. Slant could not see it; he realized that the computer must have applied camouflage after he left. Either that or he had misjudged his own route.

  "Where are you?" he asked.

  There was a sudden blaze of light off to his right; the ship had turned on floodlights, illuminating the inside of its plastic covering. It had not used artificial vines this time, but a translucent plastic sheet the approximate color of young grass; with the floodlights on, it appeared as a huge irregular mass glowing an eerie green.

  Ahnao gasped at the sight and stopped dead in her tracks. "What is it?"

  "That's my ship."

  "I thought it would be wood or metal; why is it green?"

  "It's not, really; that's just the covering. I'll show you." He led the way down to the vessel, and after a little groping found an opening in the camouflage cover. He pulled the plastic aside, and white light poured out across the grass and sand of the gully's side.

  Ahnao peered past him at the gleaming metal of the ship's wing, lit silver and green by the floodlight and the reflection from the plastic; she stared in wonder but balked when Slant urged her forward.

  "I'm not going in there!"

  Slant was annoyed but thought better of immediate argument. Instead, he asked the computer, "What's our situation?"

  "Seven gravitational anomalies representing enemy action are approaching at an altitude of twenty meters at an approximate ground speed of five kilometers per hour. No other enemy activity detected in immediate area of ship. No overt hostile actions in progress."

  "Do we still need a hostage?"

  "Negative."

  "Good." He let go of Ahnao's wrist, which he had grabbed when she stepped back from the opening, and told her, "All right, you can go."

  "Query: Advisability of releasing hostage."

  "You just said we don't need her!"

  "Affirmative. Standard procedure calls for termination of enemy personnel in immediate vicinity of ship."

  "Idiot machine! We're being watched by seven enemy wizards of unknown capabilities, and you want to antagonize them by killing a civilian and breaking my word?" Even as he said it, he realized that the computer might want exactly that; he had forgotten that it wanted to die. Perhaps it had allowed him to overrule so many suggestions lately because it hoped he'd get himself killed by taking less than optimal courses of action; perhaps, on the other hand, it had made stupid suggestions hoping to get him killed when he followed them, and was forced to concede when presented with better options.

  "Negative. Continue action."

  "Right." He started toward the airlock but was stopped by Ahnao's voice.

  "May I see inside?"

  Exasperated, he turned back and said, "A moment ago you wouldn't go near it!"

  "I changed my mind."

  "Enemy personnel are not permitted aboard."

  "I know that!" He almost spoke that aloud but caught himself in time, and kept his voice calm as he said, "No, I'm sorry, you may not see inside. Go home now."

  "But it's dark!"

  "What of it? You're a grown woman and an apprentice wizard, and there are seven of your friends a kilometer up the road. Now go away."

  She said nothing further, but the expression on her face was that of a chastised puppy, hurt and sorrowful. Slant watched as she turned and walked a few paces back up the side of the gully, then turned himself, closing the plastic cover behind him, and climbed up onto the wing. The airlock slid open as he approached, lit from inside, and the floodlights shut off, plunging everything but the open port into darkness.

  He entered the ship and tucked the snark into his vest pocket, safety on, glad to have the thing out of his hand at last. At the entrance to the control cabin he turned briefly aside and got the ship's surgical kit out of the medical locker; he also found a plastic dropcloth in a nearby supply cabinet

  In the control cabin he spread the dropcloth across the acceleration couch, then dumped the bundle he had carried from Awlmei on it. Blood had soaked through the canvas at the bottom, making a messy brownish stain.

  "Prepare for launch."

  The computer
's interruption caught Slant by surprise. "Wait a minute," he said, "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

  "Enemy personnel of unknown capabilities are in immediate vicinity of ship."

  "Yes, but what will the acceleration do to this damn brain you made me bring back? Besides, what can they do to us without heavy weapons?"

  "Information insufficient."

  "What would acceleration do to ordinary unprotected brain tissue?"

  "Damage would be minimal. However, advisability of launch doubtful."

  "Good. That's what I thought. Let's just stay here for the moment, then, and get this dissection over with, all right?"

  "Affirmative."

  "I just hope the damn thing hasn't already deteriorated too much." He unwrapped the bundle, revealing Kurao's severed head; a momentary revulsion overcame him, and he stepped back. When he had recovered, he opened the surgical kit, laid it out neatly, then found the direct-control cable and plugged it into his neck.

  "Go ahead," he said.

  The override came on; for once he didn't fight it Instead, he watched disinterestedly from a semi-trance as the computer and his own hypnopedic medical training jointly controlled his hands, neatly removing the scalp and the top of the skull, and systematically disassembling and analyzing the brain within.

  The process took a very long time; it was complicated enough to begin with, and was further slowed by the necessity of using both Slant's eyes and a high-magnification camera, as his eyes were no use at microscopic scale and the camera was not suitable for guiding his hands directly. The dissection was less than half completed when the first faltering took place; the scalpel slipped, destroying several cells.

  Had Slant been fully conscious and under his own control, he couldn't have detected the error; it was microscopic. To the computer, however, working through the camera, it was glaringly obvious. A slip of that magnitude could be catastrophic in other situations. The override shut off.

  Slant found himself holding a greasy scalpel, staring at a grisly gray and red mess. "What's wrong? Why did you stop?" he asked.

  "An error was made. Query: Was any action taken by cyborg unit primary personality?"

  "No, of course not; I couldn't have done anything if I wanted to, you know that. Hell, I couldn't even want to!"

  "Affirmative. Warning: Evidence of computer malfunction. Request emergency maintenance check."

  "Right." Frightened, Slant unplugged the cable from his neck and started toward the door of the cabin; the access panel for the computer's test circuits was in the main airlock to facilitate an emergency exit if something dangerously wrong should be found. Though the computer was a constant annoyance, he did not want it to fail; he depended on it, could not run the ship without it. Furthermore, if it was not seriously damaged, it might still be erratic and make mistakes, which might well mean that his life expectancy was nil.

  He had not yet reached the door when an alarm beeped somewhere, and the computer informed him, "Main drive has been shut down."

  "What did you do that for?"

  "There is no record of shut-down procedure for main drive on any inboard system. Possible explanations are spontaneous system failure or enemy action. There is no evidence of system failure."

  "Oh, God," Slant muttered. The ship was going mad; there was something seriously wrong with it. No other explanation made sense. He wondered whether it was worth the trouble to run a systems check, but no other course of action came to mind.

  "Power drain is higher than normal. Reserve power level dropping."

  That didn't make sense; even with the fusion drive shut down, the ship's energy cells should be fully charged and sufficient to run all systems for months—assuming there was no call for the ship's blasters and no attempt to restart the drive, as either of those would consume incredible amounts of power. "Are you sure? Double-check that."

  "Affirmative. Reserve power level dropping."

  Energy couldn't just disappear; it had to be going somewhere. "Trace the drain; something must be malfunctioning. Are the lasers in the drive drawing any power?" Even as he asked, he was almost to the airlock. He was fairly certain that part of the computer's regulating machinery must have gone berserk and lost contact with the main system; the test circuits should let him locate the problem. He hoped it wasn't too extensive.

  The corridor lights dimmed. "Emergency power conservation measures in effect."

  He reached the inner door of the lock; it did not slide out of his way. He realized that that must be part of the emergency measures, and began to crank it open manually.

  "Power drain located. Power is being diverted from number three fusion-core laser through gravitational anomaly."

  "What? Why didn't you spot that before?" He kept cranking; even if it was the wizards' doing, he had no better course of action, and the sudden belated discovery of enemy action could well be a further malfunction rather than an accurate analysis.

  "Information insufficient. There is evidence that sensor circuits have been tampered with."

  "Can you stop the drain?"

  "Negative. Ship is not equipped with gravitational manipulation."

  "Where are the wizards?" The lock was open; he stepped in and found the test circuit access panel. It was held in place with plastic clamps; he slid them to the unlocked position and discovered that there were also three Phillips-head screws that the clamps had been hiding.

  "Enemy personnel are approximately eighty meters north by northwest."

  "They're on the ground?" There was a tool kit somewhere, he knew there was.

  "Affirmative."

  "Can you open fire on them?" He found the tool cabinet; it had plastic clamps holding it shut, but fortunately no screws. He opened it.

  "Negative. All weapons are below rim of depression. No line of sight to enemy personnel above rim of depression is possible."

  "What about missiles? Throw something at them, anything!" He had the screwdriver.

  "All anti-personnel missiles are located on underside of ship, and intended for air-to-ground use."

  "What about incendiaries?" He had one screw out

  "All incendiary missiles are located on underside of ship, and intended for air-to-ground use."

  "Don't we have any air-to-air or ground-to-air or ground-to-ground?" The second screw came free.

  "Affirmative. Air-to-air missiles are armor-piercing, located on underside of ship. Ground-to-air missiles are magnetically guided high explosive. Ground-to-ground are nuclear. Ship is well within blast area of nuclear arms."

  That was no help at all. The third screw came loose and fell to the floor of the airlock.

  "Power levels critical."

  He flipped the switch that activated the testing mechanism; a red light reading INSUFFICIENT POWER immediately came on.

  "Termination of communications contact with cyborg unit to conserve power."

  "No, wait!" There was no response.

  He looked at the test panel, trying to decide what to do; the lights in the passageway went out completely, and he was in total darkness except for the red glow labeled INSUFFICIENT POWER.

  He knew there was emergency lighting somewhere; he could not see well enough to locate it. Aloud, he shouted, "Give me some light!"

  There was no answer; the darkness remained.

  A new light appeared, a yellow glow from the test panel; it was a warning light that read SYSTEMS FAILURE. He stared at it.

  An instant later it winked out, and a new, larger, red light came on, reading ALL SYSTEMS OFF.

  There had to be a flashlight in the tool kit; he groped for it in the dark and found it as even the red warning lights began to dim. There was a click, and a whir, and the hiss of recording tape came from a speaker near his head; he froze and listened with a mix of fear and anticipation. Was the computer back in service? The red light reading ALL SYSTEMS OFF still glowed faintly. A voice spoke, the first other than his own to be heard aboard the ship for fourteen years.

&nb
sp; "Independent Reconnaissance Unit two-oh-five, this is a recorded message from the Command, activated by the failure of your shipboard computer systems and/or power supply.

  "We, of course, know nothing of your current situation, so this message cannot address itself to specifics. It is a safe assumption, however, that the systems failure is the result of enemy action, and we can offer a little general advice.

  "We suggest you make planetfall immediately, if you have not done so, and get away from your ship as fast as possible, taking whatever supplies seem appropriate. Your ship can make an emergency landing without computer assistance under the right circumstances. Once away from the ship, try to blend with the local population, if any; a single person is harder to find in a crowd than in a wilderness. Avoid local capitals and military installations. Your situation has been reported by emergency relay to all units in your area, and assistance will be sent as soon as possible; we do not consider IRU personnel expendable.

  "Since you must be prepared for all eventualities, and there may arise situations in which the maintenance of your status as an IRU is counterproductive, you may need the release code for your computer and yourself. This is simply your civilian name, spoken aloud three times; it can be retrieved from your memory by any person with a rudimentary knowledge of hypnosis, or if necessary through self-hypnosis. We do not recommend that you use it lightly, and certainly not immediately; it will erase your conditioning and block your memory of all militarily sensitive subjects and training.

  "Remember, help is on the way. Good luck." Blank tape hissed, then stopped; the dim red of the warning light died, and he was alone in the dark.

  Chapter Twelve

  THE FLASHLIGHT WAS A SORT THAT COULD BE RECHARGED by pumping a generator handle, so that even though its original charge had long ago dribbled away during fourteen years of disuse and its automatic recharging had failed along with everything else dependent upon ship's power, he was able to use it to find his way around the ship. It was a strange experience to be prowling through the darkened ship; the old familiar passageways and compartments were new and different, as he had never before seen them completely unlit.