The Mind Pool tmp-1

by Charles Sheffield

  This was another point of crucial danger. After a second’s hesitation he went on through.

  He found himself in a primary quarantine area. It was a large, hexagonal room, thirty meters across and divided into seven parts. The central area where Chan had entered was surrounded by the six individual vaults, each with its own triple-layer glassite walls and inert door. The whole room was visible and audible from every one of the seven chambers. But a kiloton fusion explosion could take place in any of them, and remain totally confined there.

  Two men were waiting at the far end of the central area.

  Esro Mondrian and Luther Brachis. Chan recalled the analysis made by the mentalities. These were the two individuals predicted with highest probability to be present on the Q-ship — and the ones least likely to be controllable or sympathetic.

  Mondrian seemed to be unarmed. Brachis carried a high-velocity projectile weapon, which he held aimed at Chan’s mid-section. His face was a patchwork of bruised flesh and synthetic skin.

  Mondrian nodded a greeting. “Welcome back, Chan. According to our records, you are the first human ever to return from the surface of Travancore. Sorry we don’t have the red carpet out for you.” He smiled, despite the obvious tension in the room. “I’m glad to see you, but I’m sure you realize that we have a lot on our minds. Come over here, and sit down.”

  He nodded to three straight-backed chairs that formed the central chamber’s only furniture. They were placed so that each provided a view of a wall-sized display. Chan and Mondrian sat down, but Luther Brachis remained standing. His weapon was still in his hand.

  Chan nodded towards the gun. “I never asked for a red carpet, but I did expect better treatment than this. You sent us to do a job. We did it — and now you point that at me.”

  The mentalities had advised Chan on how he should begin the meeting in the Q-ship: act bitter and confused. They had also warned that they could predict nothing beyond the first few exchanges. Chan would have to use his own judgment as the encounter proceeded.

  “But you did not complete your mission,” said Mondrian quietly. “You were instructed to destroy the Morgan Construct. Yet according to your message, it is still alive.”

  “It is. But we did more than we were asked. Thanks to our team, you now have available to you a live, functioning Construct, operating in a safe environment.”

  Live, functioning, safe. Chan stressed those words deliberately, and saw the positive reaction in Mondrian. Brachis’s face was so battered that it could show no response at all. Chan wished that S’greela were present.

  The Pipe-Rillas were far better than any human at reading emotional states.

  “We even think we know why the Construct went insane,” continued Chan. “It was designed for the purpose of Perimeter surveillance, and then it was not allowed to perform it. If we are right, there is a way to cure it.” That got through to Mondrian, more than anything so far. His eyes gleamed, but still they were cautious. “Maybe the Construct can be cured. But that doesn’t explain why you failed to follow orders. Why did you not destroy the Construct, as directed?”

  “It was not necessary.” Chan had to keep them talking, even if it meant giving out more information than he wanted to. Nimrod had asked for five minutes. “Why destroy it, when we could neutralize its offensive powers? It can t do any damage now. It is in stasis, safely immobilized on the jungle floor of Travancore.”

  “Undamaged, and in good working order?” Mondrian’s voice had a slight tremor in it.

  “So far as we can tell. But the capsule wasn’t big enough for both us and the Construct. If you can give me a larger transfer vehicle, we can go down and collect it.”

  Chan knew that he had reached one of the principal branch points identified by the mentalities. If Mondrian agreed now, the chance of survival increased greatly.

  But the man was shaking his head, and fiddling with the star opal at his collar. “Not yet. Tell me, Chan, what do you see as the future of Team Ruby, now that you’ve done your work with the Construct?”

  “I didn’t think that we had a future. We were assembled to do a job, and we did it. I suppose that I thought we’d be congratulated, and then we’d all go home. Is that going to be a problem?”

  “I don’t think so. Mondrian nodded at Luther Brachis, who lowered his weapon. “Suppose we agree that you can go down and bring up the Morgan Construct. Do you need to have your whole team there when you do so?”

  “It’s not necessary. The Construct is harmless now. I could go down and do it on my own if I had the right ship.”

  Fine.” Mondrian stood up. “Well bring the other team members in. I want to thank them individually. Then they can all be Linked back to their home planets.”

  “Right now?”

  “I don’t see why not.”

  He suspects, thought Chan. He doesn’t know that my team formed a mind pool, too, but he’s not going to take any chances. “I hoped that we could all get together here, maybe even have a celebration. The team members expected to go their separate ways, but not so soon and so suddenly.

  “When you defeated the Morgan Construct, the work on Travancore ended. There is no reason now to continue the Anabasis.” Mondrian was relaxing, just a little. “And we have other work to do, back on Ceres. Luther, bring the others through — one by one.”

  It was going to work out all right. But as Chan had that thought, Luther Brachis walked to the door leading to one of the shielded compartments. He gestured to Chan with his gun. “In here, Dalton.”

  “Me? What have I done now?”

  Brachis shrugged.

  “It should only be for a few minutes,” said Mondrian.

  Brachis guided Chan through, and the hardened door closed as Mondrian stepped to the communications panel and pressed a sequence there. “All that we want to do is check on your companions,” he said. “As soon as that proves satisfactory, you will be released. Here comes the first.”

  The display screen showed the bulky figure of Angel, leaving the capsule and floating towards the lock. Soon Angel appeared in the central chamber. This time there was no discussion. Angel was moved at once to a second shielded compartment.

  No one spoke as S’greela, and finally Shikari, were brought in turn from the capsule to the quarantine chamber. The Tinker was handled with particular care. Luther Brachis had another weapon at his belt, this one able to throw a wide beam of destructive energy. If necessary, he could use it to kill a whole swarm of components in mid-air.

  But it was not needed. S’greela and Shikari allowed themselves to be shepherded quietly through into separate sealed compartments. When all the pursuit team members were present, Mondrian went again to the control panel. He pressed a new command sequence.

  “Destroying the landing capsule,” he said casually — but he was looking straight at Chan. “In strict accordance with Security quarantine regulations, of course. Your team is here, and we don’t want to risk some dangerous life-form taking a free ride up from Travancore. Do we?”

  Chan shook his head. He kept his face impassive as the capsule on the screen flared to blue incandescence. The possibility of that act had been considered by Nimrod and Almas when they were still on Travancore, but no good counter-action had been devised.

  The situation was clear. Either Nimrod had already found some way to move from the capsule to the interior of the Q-ship, or Leah and the others were dead. The mentality was supposed to disassemble once the capsule had docked, and each of its four members would then make its way into the Q-ship interior. It had seemed simple enough when Nimrod and Almas proposed it. Now it sounded impossible. Chan wished that he had Angel’s inborn ability to assess odds.

  “I have one additional question,” went on Mondrian, “before you lead us down to collect the Construct, and we talk of celebration. I am curious to learn if in your efforts on Travancore you were troubled by illusions, or a distorted perception of reality.”

  It was the crucial moment. M
ondrian must know of Chan’s first and incomplete meeting with Nimrod, because Chan had reported seeing Leah, and that would be in the data files. But what was the right answer? Was it better to admit that there had been a later meeting? Or should he say that they had fired on and destroyed something in the deep forest, assuming that it was created by the Morgan Construct?

  Any answer was dangerous. Chan hesitated, and as he did so Brachis raised his gun and took a step toward the door of the compartment that held Chan. “Damn it, Esro, he’s taking too long. Can’t you see he’s stalling?”

  “Keep calm, Luther. We are all nervous. But I need that Construct, even if you don’t. And we must know exactly what happened on Travancore before we can risk going down there.”

  Behind Mondrian, another door was slowly opening. A female figure stood on the threshold. Chan held his breath and tried not to look that way as she stepped from darkness into the bright-lit quarantine chamber.

  Leah?

  And then Chan relaxed, disappointed. The newcomer was Godiva Lomberd. She was dressed in a modest, calf-length white dress with long sleeves, and she had a bewildered look on her face.

  Luther Brachis had not heard her coming until the last moment. He swung around, weapon raised and finger tight on the trigger. As he saw Godiva he exhaled hard and lowered his gun.

  “Goddy, don’t ever come in like that again. I told you to stay in our quarters until I got back. I could have shot you!”

  “I have to talk to you, Luther.” Her voice was far-off and dreamy. “I have to. It’s important.”

  “Later. Can’t you see we’re busy? You’ll have to go back to our room, I just can’t talk to you now.”

  “It has to be now.” Godiva took two dragging steps forward. “Please, Luther. For your own sake.

  “Go with her.” It was Angel, speaking through the computer communicator. “Godiva is right, Luther Brachis. You must go with her.”

  “What the hell is all this?” Brachis was swinging to face Angel, but the alien was safe behind the chamber’s glassite wall.

  “It’s what I feared.” Mondrian went hurrying across to the control board. ” It’s on board. God knows how, and God knows where. But it’s here, Luther — and it has taken over Godiva. Just look at her face.”

  “Godiva!” Brachis turned back to her.

  “No, Luther.” She walked forward to stand in front of him. “Esro is wrong. There is someone new on board, and I did talk to it. But don’t worry, I can’t be taken over — ever.” She smiled up into his face. “Luther, Nimrod didn’t take me and change me. But it can help you and Esro. You can get rid of all the violence, all the hatred. Please come with me now, both of you. You’ll be quite safe. I love you, Luther. You know I would never do anything to hurt you.” Behind Godiva, the door to the quarantine chamber was opening wider. Mondrian and Brachis had a first clear view of the corridor outside. Both men took a step backward.

  Nimrod was there, moving into the doorway. For the first time Chan had a clear view of a mentality without being a part of it. Even to him, it was a terrifying sight. The forms of Leah, S’glya, and the Angel stirred feebly within the swarming, smothering mass of Ishmael’s components. Long purple-black tentacles of Tinker elements writhed away from the main body. They extended into the room, reaching out toward the locks of the closed chambers. As Chan watched, the whole mass gave a jerk and moved closer. The door holding Chan a prisoner slid silently open.

  “Out of the way, Godiva!” Brachis had his gun raised, sighting for a clear shot past the woman standing in front of him.

  “It would be foolish to shoot.” The voice of Leah Rainbow spoke from the depths of the vibrating mass. “Godiva is right, Luther Brachis. We can help you. And we did not enter her mind — because we could not. May we tell him?”

  Godiva was nodding, still staring up raptly into Brachis’s face. “Tell him now. He is my love, and it is time.”

  “We could not bring Godiva Lomberd to union, Luther Brachis, although we tried. Because Godiva is not human.”

  “Godiva. Move!” Brachis did not seem to have heard the mentality, but the hand holding his gun was trembling. “Out of the way, let me get a shot at it.”

  Godiva edged in closer, reaching up to place her hands on his shoulders. “Before Nimrod spoke with me, I could not tell you. My prime coding did not permit it, and I wondered if you would ever know. But they are right. I am not human. Luther, let them help you.’

  “Don’t touch him!” Mondrian was staring at Godiva with sudden comprehension. “Don’t touch him any more — and don’t say what you are.”

  “I must. Before I could not, but now I must.” Godiva’s arms went around Brachis’s neck. “Luther, you are my love. And I am an Artefact.”

  Brachis tried to pull away. “Godiva, don’t say that. Don’t ever say anything like that.”

  “I must.” She clung to him, moving as he moved. “I am an Artefact. And the Margrave of Fujitsu was my maker.”

  “You can’t be. You helped to save me.” The hand holding the gun was white-knuckled and trembling. “When the Artefacts were attacking me, you didn’t help them, you helped me.”

  “Of course I tried to save you. I could never kill anything. Fujitsu created me, in the vats of his Needler lab. But I was made for love, not death. I love you, Luther.”

  She tried to reach up and kiss him. Brachis was pulling his face away out of reach.

  “Feel pity, Luther Brachis, not anger.” It was Leah’s voice again, emerging from the middle of the Tinker swarm. “She became Fujitsu’s instrument, but not from choice. When the Margrave was alive, her only program was to watch you, and stay with you, and love you. When he died, that program was not cancelled. But his death also triggered her programing as a source of information for other Artefacts. They were able to follow you, to know your actions. But feel Godiva’s misery, as we are able to feel it. She loves you, yet she could not help providing information that might harm you. When you came to Travancore, she rejoiced — because she knew that no other Artefacts could follow you here.”

  Tears were trickling down the flawless skin of Godiva’s cheeks. “It is true, Luther. Forgive me. I could not tell you what I was doing, no matter how much I loved you.”

  “Love. Making money for Fujitsu, was that your idea of love?” Luther Brachis averted his face from Godiva, as again she tried to kiss him. He stared out over her shoulder. “Damn your soul, Fujitsu, wherever you are.” His voice was quiet, apparently unemotional. “You wanted your dues, and you took them. You win, Fujitsu. You win.”

  He pushed the muzzle of his gun into Godiva’s soft belly and pulled the trigger. The explosion was muffled to a soft, harmless-sounding thump. But the shaped projectile blew a fist-sized hole right through Godiva’s opulent body.

  She stared up into Brachis’s face and smiled a dreamy and loving smile. She stood up straight, arms raised in supplication; and then she fell. Even in dying, there was a strange grace to her. Luther Brachis stared down at her body and drew in a long, sobbing breath. Mondrian alone foresaw what might come next.

  “Luther! No!” He jumped forward to grab at Brachis’s arm. The other man glanced at him, and almost casually began to turn his wrist. Mondrian pulled as hard as he could, but the arm movement did not slow. As the weapon came to point at his own head, Brachis stared down at the tumbled and bleeding form in front of him.

  “I loved you, Godiva,” he said quietly. “I really did.” He fired the gun point-blank at his own forehead. A spout of blood and brain tissue jetted from the back of his skull. As he fell he pulled Esro Mondrian with him.

  Chan started forward Mondrian was beginning to pull free, clambering to his feet.

  And so, amazingly, was Godiva Lomberd. She held her hand to her back, where bloodied internal organs showed at the gaping exit wound, and she weaved where she stood. But still she began to move forward, to where Luther Brachis lay.

  “Godiva Lomberd, do not try to lift him. That effort will k
ill you.” It was Leah’s warning voice. But Godiva was bending and putting her arms around Brachis, while blood streamed down her dress.

  She shook her blond head. “We do not die easily, my kind. Not even … of sorrow.” Already she was standing again, Luther cradled to her chest while one hand supported the back of his shattered head.

  Then she was hurrying out of the quarantine chamber.

  Chan started after her — and realized that while they had all watched Godiva, Esro Mondrian was vanishing through the other door.

  “Follow him!” said Leah’s voice. “With Brachis gone, Mondrian alone knows the Link sequence to take this ship back to Sol.”

  Chan hesitated. Follow Mondrian — but Nimrod was still united, Angel was too slow, Shikari was disassembled. “S’greela!” Chan called to the Pipe-Rilla. “Come on. It’s up to the two of us.”

  He ran out of the quarantine chamber, and at once found himself in the labyrinth of the Q-ship interior.

  “Which way?” asked S’greela. She was bounding along at his side.

  Chan had no idea. Before he could speak, a long tendril of Tinker components came streaming into the corridor. “Follow Ishmael,” called Leah’s muffled voice from far behind.

  Nimrod at least must have some idea of where Mondrian was going, Chan and S’greela ran along behind the moving Tinker column, down one corridor and along up two short flights of stairs.

  “The main Q-ship control room,” cried S’greela. She was ahead of Chan. “He is here.”

  Chan ran through to join her. Mondrian was at a main panel, throwing switches. As Chan and S’greela entered, he spun around to face them.

  “Get away from me, or we all die. I have initiated a Q-ship destruct sequence, and I alone can stop it. You have three minutes to surrender and place yourselves in sealed quarantine chambers.”

  “Stay back,” cried S’greela. “He means it, he will do it. We must do as he says.”

  “Wait!” called a voice from far along the corridor. It was Angel, creeping along as fast as the root system would permit.