Hosato stopped, realizing how emotional he was becoming.
“Is that why you said no the first time I asked you?” the boy prompted.
“That’s right. I’ll tell you now, I was tempted to go along with it even then. My work is lonely. To give you an idea how lonely, Suzi was my best friend until she was destroyed, covering our retreat. Do you understand what I’m saying. My best friend was a robot. That should give you an idea of how low things can get.”
“I liked Suzi,” James protested.
Hosato ignored him. “You’ve got a dozen ways you could go with your life. I’m only one of them. At this moment, I just happen to be the closest option to you. I can’t let you make your decision on that basis.” Then with a quick wink, an attempt to lighten the conversation, he added, “Listen kid, I’ve got my own dubious concept of honor, you know.”
“How did you get into this business?” James asked pointedly.
Hosato was silent for a few moments, then leaned against the counter as he answered.
“That’s a good question, James, and it deserves an honest answer. With me, I really didn’t have a choice, or rather, the choice was made for me. It’s a family business, and I was raised into it. For me, it’s as natural as breathing. For many reasons, I couldn’t leave it now if I wanted to. But I’ll tell you this much, James, I’m not particularly happy with what I do. Sometimes I wonder, if I were starting all over again and given a choice, and I knew what I know now, if I wouldn’t walk away from it all without looking back. You’ve got that choice, and I want you to “think it through before commiting yourself.”
James bit his lip thoughtfully. “All right, Hosato,” he said. “Tell me about this terrible life. What do you do?”
Now it was Hosato’s turn to lapse into silence. Waves of bitter memories held in check by sheer force of will now flooded over him. He had set himself up for this question; now he had to answer it, both for the boy and for himself.
“I’m a killing machine,” he said quietly. “I kill people. Not because they’re a threat or even because they may have offended me—not that that’s a good reason. I kill because I’m paid to.”
He fixed James with a calm gaze as he continued.
“You want to know what it means to be in my line of work. I said you don’t have any friends. Well, that was a lie. You have lots of friends. But your profession makes a mockery of the word 'friendship.' You worm your way into people’s confidence, and when they trust you implicitly, you destroy them. Rick’s my friend. We used to drink together back at Mc. Crae. All the time we were together, I was getting information to shut the complex down. At the veiy least, it would have put him out of work—permanently, if anyone ever found out he was a security leak. If he had found out what I was about or surprised me while I was working, I would have killed him.”
He deliberately let his voice harden. “You remember what it’s like to kill people, don’t you?”
James’s gaze wavered and dropped to the floor.
Hosato fought and conquered an urge to console the boy. He waited in silence while the boy relived his first blooding.
“Hosato,” James said at last, not lifting his gaze, “I don’t know about the killing. Back at Ravensteel, when I killed those men… I don’t know. I’m glad I saved our lives, that I was good enough with weapons to do it, but I still feel a little sick when I think about it!”
“Are you proud?” Hosato asked.
“What?” James raised his eyes at last.
“Are you proud of killing two men. If you get a chance, are you going to brag about it to the Hungarian?”
The boy hesitated, then dropped his gaze once more and shook his head. “No,” he said softly. “They were just enemies I killed. They weren’t people, I guess. They were just enemies.”
“Look at me, James,” Hosato demanded. He fixed his eyes deep into James. “They were people you killed. They weren’t robots that you terminated. They were two human beings, lives with loved ones, lives with dreams—people capable of wonderful things, as well, of course, as killing you. They weren’t just enemies, they were human beings.”
Hosato slid an arm around the boy’s shoulders. “James,” he said. “Let me tell you what my grandfather told me, the same grandfather who trained me for this work. He said, 'You must learn to kill because it is necessary. To be effective, you must kill coldly and without hesitation. But killing is not to be taken lightly nor is it to be taken pridefully. Kill as well, as skillfully as you can, knowing that killing is man’s fatal flaw.'
“That’s good advice, James. Listen to it.”
They both turned, to find Sasha framed in the door.
“Sorry to interrupt,” she said, “but I think we’ve got something out here.”
Hosato clapped James lightly on the back. “Think about what I’ve said. There’s no rush. Now, go on ahead. There’s something I want to say to Sasha.”
The boy’s eyes darted between the two of them, and he smiled.
“Okay, Hosato,” he said, vaulting down off the counter. “I’ll tell them you’ll be there in a minute.”
“The kid looks like he’ll pull through this okay,” Sasha commented, watching James’s departure.
“Sasha,” Hosato began, “we’ve got to talk.”
“No,” she said firmly. “It’s pointless to talk about the future until we know for sure if we’ve got one. Now, come on and join the group. This is important.”
She was gone before Hosato could reply, leaving him no choice but to follow her back into the other room.
“There you are!” the Hungarian called. “For a world-saver, you spend a lot of time goofing off.”
“What have you got?” Hosato asked, ignoring the jibe.
“Well,” the Hungarian said, leisurely lighting his pipe, “the problem is that Turner didn’t think things through. That’s always a mistake. There’s always the temptation to let the computers do our thinking for us because they do it so much faster. It’s quicker to rough out an idea and let the machines develop it, then fine-tune it until it does what we want.”
Hosato writhed with impatience, but knew from experience it was useless to try to rush the Hungarian.
“That’s what Turner did, and learned the bard way the price of turning development over to machines. They think fast, too fast. Any mistake that’s made is carried out before you can correct your input, and Turner made a beaut.”
“Which was…?” Hosato prompted.
“He changed the 'no-kill' program. Now, he wasn’t completely stupid. He gave the computer specific parameters. He gave it the capacity to kill, to defend itself… if the computer or the manufacturing units were threatened.”
“What’s wrong with that?” James asked.
“Two things,” the Hungarian replied. “First of all, he didn’t define completely what constituted a threat, so the computer came up with its own definition.”
“So when Turner tried to shut down the operation, the computer interpreted it as a threat and had the prototypes kill him!” Sasha completed the thought with sudden awareness.
“Exactly.” The Hungarian beamed.
“That can’t be all of it, Tinker,” Hosato insisted. “I wasn’t directly threatening the operation when the robots took their first two tries at me… and certainly the families in the living mall weren’t a threat. What happened there?”
“That’s Turner’s second mistake,” the Hungarian announced, relighting his pipe. “Actually, it involves a completely different command, way back at the beginning of the project. Apparently Turner was afraid of anyone else stealing his idea, so he did two things. Fust, he put a voice lock on his program terminal. Second, he instructed the computer to keep the project secret from anyone who did not enter the program from his terminal. He was very explicit, instructing the computer to guard the Secret with every power at its disposal.”
“How was it supposed to do that?” Hosato asked.
“By giving meaning
less or misdirecting information when asked,” Sasha informed him. “It’s a very bright computer and can be incredibly evasive when it wants. What I don’t understand is how that affects things. Most of the line managers put in secret preserving instructions when they start a new project. They’re paranoid that way. What makes Turner’s instructions any different?”
“You’re right, Sasha,” the Hungarian agreed. “By itself it’s quite innocent. The trouble comes when you add his later order giving the computer a kill capacity. Now killing is within its power, and it is to do everything in its power to preserve Turner’s secret. See the problem?”
“Oh, my God!” Sasha gasped as the enormity of the situation dawned on her.
The group sat in stunned silence. Only the Hungarian seemed unperturbed, puffing on his pipe as he continued.
“Actually, Hosato, there’s a good chance you triggered all this. It might have been better if the machines had killed you.”
“Wait a minute—” Hosato began, but the Hungarian waved him back to silence.
“I was merely pointing out that when you escaped from the manufacturing area, you signed the death warrant for everyone in the Mc. Crae complex. The computer couldn’t be sure whom you had talked to, so to preserve Turner’s secret, it simply killed everyone.”
“Now, don’t try to hang this on Hosato!” Sasha intervened. “He didn’t program the damn computer. Besides, all of us here got away from the robots, not just Hosato.”
“True enough,” the Hungarian acknowledged. “But that was to survive the attack triggered by Hosato’s earlier escape. However, that does raise an interesting problem. If I’m correct, the robots massacred the humans at the Mc. Crae complex to eliminate any information leak Hosato might have caused. Now, four of you escaped from the massacre. Extending the same logic…”
“…those things will try to kill every human in the universe,” Rick said softly. “All to preserve Turner’s bloody secret project. Mother of God!”
Hosato barely noticed the exchange. His mind was already turning over plans for a counterattack, analyzing them and gauging their strengths and weaknesses. Whether or not mankind as a whole was being threatened was inconsequential. He had indirectly been the cause of the death of several hundred innocent people. He was now honor-bound to destroy the murderers, to avenge those innocent deaths, even if his own life was sacrificed in the effort.
To the Hungarian fell the lot of traveling to Griin-becker’s Planet on a preliminary scouting mission. The others hadn’t liked it, but he successfully defended his suggestion. None could challenge his qualifications as a scout in this situation. Perhaps most convincing was his argument that of the five of them, he was the only one whose descriptive stats weren’t in the Mc-. Crae personnel-data files.
His plan was simple enough—to join one of the tour groups visiting Mc. Crae Enterprises and make his observations in the safe disguise of a tourist. It was agreed that the planning of their counterattack would wait until his return, both for the data he would bring and for his expert counsel.
In the interim, the weary refugees were forced to find activities to occupy their leisure time. Rick found refuge in the Hungarian’s extensive library, losing himself for hours in the stacks of text to the point that he frequently failed to appear for meals. Sasha enlisted James’s aid and took advantage of the Hungarian’s small gymnasium and firing range. It was still her intent to participate in the final assault on Mc. Crae, and to that end drilled herself mercilessly to adjust to the loss of her right arm. She firmly rejected Hosato’s offers of assistance, preferring to practice alone or with James as a companion.
Left to his own devices, Hosato made use of the workshop to check and prepare what was left of his equipment. It soon became apparent to him, however, that he was in actuality stalling—avoiding a duty he was reluctant to fulfill.
Finally, however, he could no longer ignore his conscience and reluctantly locked himself in the Hungarian’s communications room.
It took a while to establish contact, which was not surprising, as long-range communications equipment was not common on Musashi, but after many relays and delays he was confronted with the holographic image of his grandfather. The figure of the elder Hosato, elegant in a simple black kimono, appeared floating inches off the floor in a seated position. That, coupled with the fact his eyes focused at a point several feet behind Hosato, indicated the transmission/ receiving gear was not adjusted properly. Still, it was an incredible technical feat to have the image this clear, considering the distances involved.
The figure motioned to Hosato, indicating a place in the air directly in front of it. Hosato responded, kneeling on the floor, his hands resting on his thighs.
“You are looking well, my son,” the image said. The voice was strong and reverberant.
“And you, grandfather,” Hosato replied.
He was genuinely relieved to see his grandfather in such good health. The elder Hosato was in his nineties but he sat ramrod straight. His tight unlined face rested on a sinewy pillar of a throat that loomed up from muscular shoulders. It had been five years since Hosato had last spoken to him directly.
“Your mother and sister have been worried about you,” the image continued. “It has been many years since we have heard from you.”
“I apologize for any distress I might have caused them. Since leaving home, I have traveled far, and on the occasions I could afford to communicate with you, proper facilities were not available.”
“We are not wealthy,” his grandfather pointed out sternly. “But we would have accepted the expense of such a communication to hear from our eldest son.”
Hosato hung his head. “Though I knew this, my pride would not let me impose such a burden on you. Forgive me.”
The image waved a ghostly hand. “Enough of such talk,” it said. “Tell me of your adventures since you left us.”
“Most recently, I had a supporting role in a production of Down the Alley on Tansil,” Hosato responded.
“I am not familiar with this play,” the image stated.
“It is a very old script. The story revolves around a young criminal who…”
To a casual observer viewing the conversation, it would seem to be a normal, though prolonged, exchange of pleasantries, gossip, and news between father and son.
It wasn’t.
The Hosato family, true Ninjas that they were, were very close with their secrets. They did not engage in idle conversation. The fact that Hosato contacted his family at all was an immediate indication that he was facing a crisis, one that either required the family’s counsel or was a direct threat to the family.
As they spoke, Hosato and the image of his grandfather, their hands and fingers moved minutely, constantly changing position. It was not the hand signals of the deaf-mutes or the sign language of the Great Plains Indians. It was the Hosato family code, which had been passed along for generations. It was drilled into all members of the family until they were able to carry on two conversations simultaneously, one verbal, which served only to cover the real conversation passing between the subtly moving hands. Many people spoke Japanese, but only the family knew this code.
After Hosato’s hands had finished explaining the current situation, his grandfather immediately formed the question he had been dreading.
“What of your companions?” the fingers asked.
“I seek advice on how to proceed with my mission,”
Hosato countered. “I am faced with a foe that threat-ens-the existence of mankind.”
“Mankind has faced many threats,” came the reply from the image’s hands. “Yet it still survives. Your companions constitute a direct threat to our family.”
“The mechanic does not possess sufficient knowledge of our activities to constitute a threat,” he explained.
“And the woman and the boy?”
There it was. His grandfather had now asked the question directly. Hosato could no longer evade the issue.
&
nbsp; “I was considering sponsoring them into the family,” he stated.
The image’s hands were motionless for several moments before replying.
“A family member may sponsor only one outsider for membership.” The fingers formed the words with a crisp abruptness. “It is the law.”
“I was hoping that under the circumstances, an exception could be made to the law,” Hosato appealed.
“It is the law,” came the firm answer.
“As current head of the family, it is within your power to change or modify the law,” Hosato pleaded.
“My son,” the image responded slowly, “the laws of the family are not to be changed lightly. Perhaps if you live to succeed me as head of the family, you will realize that.”
“I do not ask lightly now!” Hosato insisted. “I only ask—”
“You ask me to change one of the oldest laws of the family,” the image interrupted. “To save you from having to make a difficult decision. I will not.”
Hosato experienced a sinking sensation in his stomach as the image’s fingers continued their statement. “There are two outsiders who now possess enough information about our family to pose a threat to its continued existence. You may sponsor only one for membership. The other must be eliminated. As you were the source of their information, it becomes your task to carry out the mission. Fail in this, and you will no longer be considered a member of the family. We will speak no more of this.”
Mirror Friend, Mirror Foe Page 13