Infinite Day (10 page)

“Have you done that?” Merral sat down.

“Yes. I have carried out a long . . .
interview
with the unit and presented my report to the chairman. On reading it, she suggested I talk to you. Privately.”

This is not going to be good news.

It wasn't.

Elaxal explained that long ago, the Assembly had found that while making machines intelligent was relatively easy, keeping them sane and moral was far harder.

He stared at Merral. “Do you speak English, Commander?”

“Yes. It's one of my historics.”

“Good. There was a neat line in English that intelligent machines tended to be ‘mad or bad.' That's one reason why, despite objections, the early Assembly abandoned such research.”

“Those who made objections—do any names particularly come to mind?”

“The most obvious, of course, was Jannafy. Of the Rebellion.” The professor turned his head toward Betafor again, and Merral saw awe in his expression. “A line of technology we thought dead. Yet it wasn't.”

“And Betafor?”

“It is certainly intelligent. But on sanity and morality . . .” He frowned.

“Expand on that.”

“It appears to have no morality other than a strong urge for self-preservation. Maybe some built-in restraints as well. Perhaps.” He looked hard at Merral. “There's also something of a deep issue that I didn't have time to explore, about it hating humans. A contempt for us.”

The professor scratched the back of his neck and turned to Merral. “What I said to the chairman is this: I think it is a real threat, and on a space vessel you will be very vulnerable.”

“Professor, I am collecting warnings at a considerable rate today. But I'm afraid we have no option but to take Betafor. Her ability in communication and surveillance is something that we have no replacement for.”

“Yes, I can see that. But, Commander, I would be failing in my duty if I didn't warn you that this is a most dangerous traveling partner. It is potentially psychotic. If you are allowed to fly with it, I would urge you to be very cautious. Remember, too, that it is a solitary creature. It makes no friends. Ultimately it does not need
you
.”

“What
particular
situations do you fear?”

Elaxal wiped his face with a handerchief. “Commander, I hope I'm not alarming you, but there is one situation you need to avoid at all costs. I think what prevents it from murdering humans is simply that it is desperately frightened of the consequences. It really does fear being destroyed itself. Now, if it were possible to kill all of you without risk to itself, then . . . I could see that might be very tempting.”

“That doesn't encourage me.”

“It wasn't meant to.”

“And you have told Ludovica Bortellat this?”

“Yes, it's in my report.”

“That's going to make our departure very tricky.”

The professor rose from his seat. “I'm sorry. But I have my duty, Commander.”

Merral was still pondering the professor's warnings when Vero turned up carrying a number of bulky packages.

“For you.” He put them on the table.

“What are they?”

“New dress uniform of a commander of the Farholme Defense Force.”

“But why?”

“A press conference is scheduled for five thirty.”

“A press conference? For whom?”

“You and Ludovica.”

“And who arranged that?”

A hint of evasion crossed Vero's face. “I felt it would be useful. And the meeting with the official war artist at six. And for the speech to the volunteers at six fifteen.”

“The
official war artist
? What do you mean?”

Vero came closer and raised a finger to his lips. “Not so loud. It's part of a cunning strategy. It builds our mission up in the public eye. It makes it harder for Ludovica to cancel it.”

“I don't like it. I thought you had given up trickery.”

“Oh,
this
isn't trickery. This is open. We are going public.”

As Vero turned to go, Merral spoke. “Wait! A Professor Elaxal has just examined Betafor and decided that she is an unstable and immoral creature, capable of psychopathic acts.”

Vero gave a grunt. “Impressive. It took us twenty-four hours to find that out.”

About five o'clock, Merral met with Ludovica, who had changed into a functional but smart-looking trouser suit, and together they walked outside. A warm wind was blowing in from the sea, and every so often, little dust devils would part the dry grass and columns of sandy air would whirl past them. Through the haze, Merral could see the gleaming and distorted forms of the inter-system freight shuttles being readied at the end of a distant runway.

“I have many misgivings, Merral,” Ludovica said. “For a start, you have no real rescue plan.”

“I know. We'll assemble all the data we have and put something together. We have some weeks to do that. And we will have the benefit of surprise.”

“You will need it.” She frowned. “And this Betafor . . .”

“I know. I've met with Elaxal.”

“I got his report. It's capable of sinking this mission, you know. You need Betafor, but he thinks she is a liability. We still haven't even seen this ship. And I have concerns, too, about this Sarudar Azeras.”

“I have my own unease there,” Merral ceded. “But Azeras has proved himself trustworthy. You know how he has helped us.”

“As you say, he has been trustworthy. So far. But he is far from transparent. Will he stay trustworthy?”

“That is a good question.”

“He's not one of us.”

“Indeed, but even if he were, that would be no guarantee. Not anymore. Those who stole the
Dove of Dawn
were our own people.”

“Alas.”

“Anyway, my aide, Sergeant Enomoto, is going to watch over him.”

“It is not encouraging.” Ludovica seemed to ponder something for a moment. “Merral, on the assumption that I do give the go-ahead—which is far from certain—I feel it would be very wise if you, and perhaps a few others, were to stay armed throughout the trip. If there is any threat from either Azeras or Betafor, then you may need—” here she hesitated—“to take extreme action.”

Another warning.

Somehow, Merral survived the press conference and the presentation of a medal. The meeting with the war artist was simplicity itself; she simply took lots of images “to work from.”

There was one final duty. The interviews had reduced the volunteers to a short list of about a hundred. They were summoned into a semicircle on the shaded side of the hangar.

As they gathered, Vero came over, his eyes hidden by his dark glasses.

“My friend,” he said, “the interview went well. Very well. The viewing figures were phenomenal. Eighty percent of the planet's adult population watched you.”

“Is that significant?”

“You are
big
.”

“Oh, dear. Anyway, I was very glad for that question about whether I took credit for these victories. It allowed me to say that God, and other people, should get the glory.”

Vero nodded. “Yes, it was a good question, wasn't it?” he said in a low, conversational murmur. “It's so nice when things turn out as planned.”

“Meaning?”

“Never mind.”

Merral gazed at the arc of people in front of him and found himself wondering if he'd ever seen such an impressive group. Some stood there, arms folded, next to backpacks in the semblance of military correctness, while others did their best to look at ease. Every single one of them was looking at him.

Ludovica gestured for him to start. He stepped up on a box.

“Thank you all for volunteering,” he began. “I am privileged to be in your company. Let me repeat what you probably know. Four members of the assault team that took the
Dove
are traveling with me tonight to help find and seize this ship. The remaining twenty soldiers we need will be drawn from you by tomorrow midday and, all being well, will follow us up tomorrow evening.”

In the utter silence, he paused for breath.

“Without fear of contradiction, I can say this is a most dangerous mission. Even if we succeed, it will be at least ten weeks before we return. We will face perils beyond our worst dreams. That much I can promise. But there is one other thing I can safely say: this is not just a difficult path; it is also the right path. A world in the Assembly that failed to seek to rescue its citizens would no longer be part of the Assembly except in name.”

He saw nods of assent.

“Tonight, I want you all to pray about whether to remain on the short list. There is no shame in withdrawing your name. And if you do not come, I personally thank you for your willingness, and all I ask of you is that you pray for us daily. That's all. And now, if you'll excuse me, I have a ship to catch. God bless you all.”

There was no applause; only quiet agreement, affirming mutters.

A quarter of an hour later, after Merral had said brief good-byes and “see you at the ship” to Anya and Vero and others, they started boarding the freight shuttle
Water Hyacinth
. Calculations based on data from Azeras and Betafor had put the
Rahllman's Star
at the limit of the shuttle's range, so they were launching using underwing fuel tanks and the longest runway Isterrane had. In a side bay two hundred meters away, the second shuttle,
White Birch
, was standing, doors open wide, as it was loaded with crates and drums.

Merral made sure he was the last in the line and stopped at the foot of the ladder. Above him, snatches of terse dialogue came from the crew cabin.

He looked around and, aware of the cameras, raised a hand in farewell. Then he took a last deep breath of his world's air and climbed up the ladder.

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