by Patty Jansen
"But Ma'am—" Carla Avery protested.
"Listen. I'm not saying we won't have a surprise in store for them when they get here. Of course over the next twenty four hours, we will try to get as much information out of them as possible, but we have to consider the fact that these troops are acting very oddly, we've lost contact with their commanding officer, and that we may have to go to more extreme measures. However, we can't do that unless we're in physical contact with the ship." Her eyes glinted, and I felt a distinct shiver of cold.
At that moment, I knew what she wanted me to do.
And she confirmed, "If we haven't gotten our answers as soon as they step off the ship, they'll be apprehended, as amicably as we can make it, but apprehended nevertheless. We will them bring them into the lab one by one, and what happens there will depend on Lieutenant Commander West's expertise. If they're still behaving strangely, I'd like all their personal information overwritten and re-installed."
My mouth went dry. Wipe them. Just like that.
I could now see why Dr Spencer wasn't here. I also saw what he'd argued with Carla Avery about yesterday. My head was spinning.
And then she was looking at me. "Lieutenant Commander West, do you think that the lab could treat the crew of the Forward in this manner?"
Stay calm, Charlotte, stay calm. I cleared my throat. "Uhm..." I cleared my throat again. "Seven hundred men is a lot." I deliberately used the word men.
"I'll lend you extra staff if needed," Carla Avery said. Heck that was the first time she'd ever offered me anything.
"Could you treat all of them within two months?" Captain Mayfair asked.
I swallowed again. "It would be tight. We would need to redo all their modules as well, because information they've picked up since wouldn't integrate with the mindbase."
"It's the same material you copied onto them originally, is it not?"
"Yes, but it has changed since the men have been in possession of that information, and it's changed differently for each man—" I was fighting nausea now. "Captain, I know you're not asking for my opinion, but could I put in my view that I don't think this is a good idea."
"Oh?" Commander Ehrlich raised his eyebrows.
Captain Mayfair nodded for me to go on. I was shivering.
"We have spent the last year or so developing the skills these men have."
"They were given their knowledge by us, were they not?"
"Yes, but as they gained experience in their jobs, each man has utilised the information in his own, unique way. They are no longer the simple minds we started out with. Forgive me for quoting the great Admiral Young 'You don't win a war with an army of identical soldiers.' When we started with them, they were much more identical than they are now. Some of them, in fact, have developed brilliant personalities."
Aidin.
Captain Mayfair nodded, thought for a while and then said, "Yet can you guarantee that the constructs are not going to do strange things at crucial times? That you can say with absolute certainty that when the Admiral counts down to engage, they're all going to be reliable? It is our safety, and the safety of Earth we're talking about."
I looked down. "No, Ma'am." I couldn't guarantee that, given what had happened, that they would all blindly obey the Admiral's orders. Then I had a strange idea. What about my orders?
"So, we really do have no option. I would like you to start with the constructs already in the hospital. We'll allow the Forward to dock and we'll bring in the troublemakers for treatment. Let's just hope this hasn't spread to the whole fleet."
"On that account, there is just one other thing I need to mention," I said.
"Yes?"
"I have some evidence that some of the constructs may be telepathic."
"Evidence?"
Commander Ehrlich raised his eyebrows behind her back.
"I've only observed it recently with the two men we have here. I have recorded lines of non-vocal communication. If this ability is present throughout the army, it would have profound implications."
"We have no evidence that this… mutiny has spread to any of the other ships," Commander Ehrlich said, his voice tight. Yes, he understood what I feared: that telepathy could work where radio-communication didn't—into hyperspace.
I shook my head. "No, we haven't, but I won't guarantee that whatever triggered this behaviour won't spread across the fleet. They all have the same mindbase."
A few moments of uncomfortable silence passed.
"I see. Better treat these men quickly then," Captain Mayfair said.
"I'm not sure if we can treat all seven thousand of them, especially if it spreads. I'd prefer dialogue with them."
"Talks!" Commander Ehrlich snorted. "What? You'd give them ideas. We're in the military, in case you've forgotten, and these men have to take orders."
"I will give the orders." Josephine Mayfair held up her hand. He fell silent.
I was seething. Why did they always have to jibe at us about our status?
"Lieutenant Commander West, I want you to start the treatment of the constructs we have here. If it's not working—well—we'll convene at a later date and discuss our next options."
10
I walked back through the corridors without seeing much. I had my hands clenched in the pockets of the stupid formal jacket. How could they ask me to do this? Say for one moment I were to set aside my revulsion against the idea of wiping the men, what sense did it make? It would set us back two years. All the things the men had learned weren't something that could just be reproduced and copied.
I guess the men really didn't matter to the top brass. They were front-line troops, cannon fodder, required to press a few buttons before they died.
Shit.
I didn't want to do this, and if there was a way—wait.
The first thing I did when I got to the lab was call up the ship regulations on my computer. There it was: ISF charter, section 46, sub-section a.1. Special project managers can, in case of an emergency, challenge the line of command if orders jeopardise a project that is essential to the successful completion of a mission.
Seeing as I was now the fleet surgeon, and responsible for the wellbeing of our entire construct fighter force, I could override Captain Mayfair's orders and take this before Admiral Ferreira. All this military shit was good for something.
Except what would I do with that power apart from ruining my career forever?
Talk to seven thousand men? In two months? Who was I kidding?
We needed to win this war, for the sake of the people of Taurus. I was worried about an army of seven thousand purpose-created troops, but we were talking here about almost a million people on the brink of starvation, and a possible attack on Earth.
I groaned and shut down the screen.
I wanted to talk to Dr Spencer, but he was probably confined to his cabin, and no one would appreciate me talking to him. Yet, he'd probably been sidelined on very much the same issue. Override their mind base or lose your position.
Constructs had no rights. Never mind racial or gender discrimination, these people were real second-class citizens.
I knew the constructs were legally the property of the International Space Force in the same way the military had dogs for unmanned space flights. OK, the constructs had more rights than dogs, but soon after they had been awoken, they had all been asked to sign a declaration that they agreed to ISF administering any treatment as long as it benefited the outcome of the war.
Did those men know what they were signing? At the time of signing, they would have had the emotional capability of a two-year-old. We had given them knowledge but what did they really understand?
I started when suddenly Julia stood next to me. I hadn't even heard her come in. "Hey Charlie, I heard you got a promotion. Congratulations."
"Thanks." I gritted my teeth.
I felt like snapping at her, but she didn't deserve that. I had always outranked her, but I had never cared much about enforcing that situation. I was the do
ctor and she was the nurse, and I didn't have much time for military frippery. I could, of course, change my mind and demand that she append Ma'am to every response to me, but that wasn't me. This was a hospital. She could work for me with pleasure or not at all, and apart from the annoying habit of calling me Charlie, she was a good sort.
Yet for a moment, I had a perverted image of myself on the bridge of the Forward. Aidin sat next to me and he asked, What do we do now, Ma'am?
And I said, Full speed ahead. We'll kick those bastards up the arse. Or whatever field commanders said in those circumstances. It mattered little. Aidin and the men knew what to do.
Julia said, "I've been told to help you. Anything big coming up?"
"Uhm—yeah." Me and my silly thoughts.
I walked to the table in the middle of the lab where Aidin still lay under sedation.
"We have been ordered to override his mind base and re-insert his knowledge modules."
"Oh. OK." Julia pulled on her gloves. "What do you want me to do? Observe his vitals?"
"Yes. And if you could run the diagnostics while I'm busy, that would be really great."
I let myself fall into my seat. What? No reaction to the fact that I'd just told her to wipe someone's personality and re-install a backup?
But no, Julia got to work quickly and efficiently. She already had the diagnostics program open on the other computer, and the sensor patches stuck to his chest.
What then? Was I just being a stupid sentimental git?
I would never do you any harm, Charlotte.
Brilliant. His mind was brilliant.
I sighed and readied the files, connected to his current mind activity. "Ready?"
She nodded.
I pressed proceed and the data started scrolling over the screen. He lay there, still like death. Even his breathing had slowed, like he was in a very deep sleep. While Julia wasn't looking, I put my hand on the edge of the bed and touched his warm-skinned arm.
Sorry. I swear it, I'm sorry.
It had taken him only a bit over two years to acquire all this extra knowledge. He would do it again. If he lived through the war. I hoped he would. He deserved better than this.
11
He was floating in the air, with bright spots of colour around him. Lights flashed, but he couldn't open his eyes. There were voices, but it sounded like speech played backwards. Kali opened his mouth, but found he couldn't speak.
Deep inside him, something grew: a nothing-ness.
It was like a sudden gust of wind blowing away leaves, like...
A ship's surgery. There was something attached to his head.
[Aidin.]
Kali sat up and almost fell out of bed.
"Aidin!" he screamed, "Aidin!"
Jade swore and rose from under his blankets. "Go back to sleep. Aidin isn't here."
"I know. He's in the hospital. They're doing something to him." Kali jumped out of bed and found his trousers and fumbled to put them on in the dark.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm going to get Aidin."
"You can't. He's on the other ship. We'll get him later."
"No, now. They're doing something to him. Don't you feel it? He's dying. Aidin! Aidin!"
12
I woke him up long after Julia had left. First I sat down at the computer. Maybe I was silly, but I had copied all his original files and now I made sure that I stored them on a datastick which I shoved right into the back of my desk's drawer before going back to the patient. He'd been restless, murmuring under his breath, tossing and turning on the table.
He slowly returned from his sleep and opened his doe-eyes. They looked empty.
He said nothing, and just looked at me. Typical Landau. Watch and observe. And learn.
"Do you know who you are?"
"Landau 746." His voice had lost the warmth I'd heard in it earlier.
"You're injured. Do you remember how that happened?"
He frowned, lifted his head and tried to look at himself. "Am I injured?"
"Yes, you have a stab wound in your stomach."
"Oh." He looked at me. "It's probably something you needed to do to me. I am in a hospital, aren't I?"
A typical answer a construct would make. I bit my lip and stared at the screen. All that personality he had earlier had disappeared. He was. . . dead.
"Do you know my name?"
He squinted and read my tag. "C. West."
"And your name?"
"Landau 746, you just asked me."
It's Aidin, I wanted to scream at him, but I couldn't.
Then I reached out and touched his hand. He turned his hand palm up and watched my thin fingers against his thick ones.
"Your hands are different. You're... a woman?"
"Yes."
"Oh. I don't think I've ever met a woman."
I put my palm flat on his, but he just watched with those lifeless eyes.
Nothing.
No autumn leaves and love declarations.
I withdrew my hand. "Thank you... My name is Charlotte."
"Oh. Hello, Charlotte."
I let him lapse back into induced sleep. He needed to heal, mentally, so I could insert the modules tomorrow. When I left the room, I bent over the bed and pressed my lips to his forehead. His skin was warm and smelled of disinfectant.
I whispered, "Goodnight, Aidin."
A tear dripped from my cheek onto his.
13
By the time I stood in the grey corridor at the door that said R. Spencer, I was shivering. I kept looking over my shoulder. I wasn't supposed to be here and if anyone came, I would have to make a quick getaway.
I knocked. The only noise I heard was the hiss of air out of ventilation vents and the soft hum of the engines, many levels below. I hadn't seen Dr Spencer all day, and I had no idea if he was here, although rumour usually spread very quickly around the ship if someone had been sent to the "correctional rooms", or as we called it, the Sin Bin.
I clamped my hands around myself and stared at the peephole. It was, and remained, black.
Come on, open it.
The lock on the door clicked and it slid aside a fraction.
Dr Spencer whispered, "Charlotte. You're not supposed to be here."
"I know. Can I come in? Quickly."
He opened the door and I stepped into his cabin, semi-dark and smelling stale. He must have been watching movies, but he must have keyed off the program, because the screen was dark. Maybe he had expected someone else? Someone like a behavioural expert, some psychiatrist asking probing questions. How we had hated those deep-digging sessions in the days when we completed our final space aptitude tests.
He closed the door and locked it.
"Sorry if you were just going to bed."
He gave a dry chuckle, mirthlessly. "Going to bed would be the one activity I haven't done all day."
I glanced at his bed, the blankets dishevelled. "Sorry."
"No, Charlotte. Don't let my mood get to you. I'm glad you're here. Sit down."
I slumped on the chair he indicated, feeling drained all of a sudden. I didn't know what to say. All the things I had wanted to say seemed irrelevant. He'd been locked up here all day, and I came to talk about my little problems?
"They made you override his mindbase," he said. It was a statement, not a question.
I nodded.
"And re-install his knowledge modules." So Carla Avery had asked him as well.
I nodded again. "They want me to do it to all seven hundred of them when the Forward comes in."
"Charlotte, you can't." His voice was almost pleading.
"That's what I told them. It seems that while the men were out there, they developed a lot of new skills. We would destroy all that. And doing this wouldn't be right. They're people, not robots—" I had to stop speaking or I would have burst out in tears. I couldn't get that dead face out of my mind. I added in a whisper. "I think I just killed someone."
"No, you didn
't."
"Yes, I did. He had this wonderful personality. You should have seen the knowledge he'd built up. He had almost acquired half a module of material I never installed. And you know? They've given each other names, and now I destroyed all that. I just woke him up and his eyes are. . . dead." My voice cracked.
"Charlotte, you didn't kill him. Take it from me."
"Then what would you call it? I wiped his personality. There's nothing left."
He looked uncomfortable. "I don't know what you'd call it, and understand me, it's not something I would do by choice."
I laughed mirthlessly. "That's putting it mildly. I can't do this."
There was a long silence, in which the only sounds were the humming of the engines and the hiss of air out the ducts.
"What do you think? Am I just stupid and sentimental?" I asked.
"I wouldn't call it that, but I think you can use better arguments. What I was going to say before is that you should explain why it's impossible to do what they ask you to do. If these seven hundred men have the... uhm fault, then the other six thousand will have it as well. Even if you wanted to, there is no way you can call in and override all those men. We took three years to get where we are now. You can't expect to re-create that in two months."
"They say the problem is confined to the one ship."
"Do you believe that?"
It was silent for a while. We both knew neither of us did.
"You know..." I hesitated. "I had a look, and the ISF charter says I can override any order if I feel the effectiveness of a major part of an operation is compromised. The construct force is essential to this war. There's more of them than there are of us in this fleet."
"Yes. Section 46, sub-section a.1. I know. Don't, Charlotte."
"Why not? Has anyone ever used it?"
"Would you want to ruin your career?"
"I'm finished with the ISF anyway."
"Not if we don't win this war."
That was painfully true, and in my contract, with my signature on it.
"What then? Wipe these men and compromise their effectiveness?"