The Deep Dark Well (16 page)

A History of Human
Civilization

Pandi thought she was
about to go mad, waiting for what seemed an eternity for someone, something, to
come for her.  Her arms no longer hurt.  The numbness that had spread through
her body had taken care of that.  Soon she felt the numbness would spread
through her brain, and she would be as numb to the world emotionally as she was
physically.  Maybe that was what Vengeance had planned for her.  To break her
emotionally.  Maybe then she would give him the information he wanted.  The
information he hoped to use in his war against his brother.

The only problem was
she had already given him all the information she possessed.  She had always
considered herself tough, but even the toughest woman couldn’t hold up to
torture and agony that spread down to the cellular level of the nervous
system.  Of course he hadn’t believed that, which was probably why she was
still alive.  And he would be back for her, eventually.  She knew it in her
deepest being.  Her intuition had always served her well.

The door opened
suddenly, catching her off guard.  A single robot walked in.  Pandi tried to
catch a glimpse of what waited in the hall, but could see nothing before the
door closed behind the robot.  That could mean there were no more robots in the
hall.  Or it could mean that there were no robots that had happened to be
standing in sight while the one walked in.  There could be an army of the
creatures out there for all she knew, just waiting for her to try and escape. 
Paranoid thinking, she knew.  But a paraphrase of the old saying came back. 
Just because she was paranoid didn’t mean she was wrong.

The robot stood at the
entrance for a moment, the sightless gaze of its silvered visor roving over
her. 
Look helpless.
  How else could she look, strung up in this
infernal field. 
What the hell is it here for?  To gawk? 
But the robot
continued to stand there, unmoving, the silver visor that was its visual sensor
system staring at her unceasingly.

“The master wishes your
presence,” said the robot, startling her with the breaking of its silence.  It
turned and walked over to the panel.  A needle like protuberance extended from
its right index finger.  The robot pushed the needle into a small hole on the
panel door.  As the robot pulled its hand back the door pulled open, exposing a
push pad with dozens of buttons.

Pandi paid close
attention to the actions of the robot, as it pushed two of the largest buttons
in unison.  Both of the buttons were green, set above two buttons of equal
size, in red. 
Would pushing the two red buttons reactivate the field?
 
It seemed too easy.  She had expected some kind of code sequence. But why
bother, when the prisoners were so helpless within the field, and the jailors
so formidable. 

The field died around
her.  Her weight fell onto her feet as her heels hit the pad, almost throwing
her off balance.  She kept her feet, somehow, as she felt the circulation
returning to her arms.  She felt sluggish, but intended to act even more so. 
She needed some time.

“Step off of the pad,”
ordered the robot in a flat voice.

“I can’t move my legs,”
she responded.  “I feel faint.”

With the last
pronouncement she slid to the pad, her legs rubber beneath her.  The robot
started toward her, walking to stand over and look down at her.

“Get up,” it ordered,
looking down coldly on her.

“I can’t,” said Pandi. 
She acted as if she were trying to get up, her legs quivering, her face screwed
up in pain.

“I will carry you,”
said the robot, bending down as its hands reached to grab her.  When it was at
its most unbalanced she made her move.

Pandi moved as her
instructors had taught her.  Smoothly and quickly.  At first it must have
seemed to the robot that she was reaching up to it while trying to lift herself
off the pad.  Her hands clamped around its wrists as she let her weight fall
back.  The robot was pulled down by her unexpected motion, but not enough to
fall.  A swing of both of her legs knocked its own out from under it, though
her right calf would bear a nasty bruise for some time.  She roared her triumph
in a rebel yell as she rolled out of the way of the falling robot.

In an instant she was
on her feet.  As she had hoped, the robot was not the most agile of creatures. 
It floundered on the pad as she ran to the panel, the flat of her hand striking
the two red buttons in unison.  She turned quickly; ready to fight hopelessly
if her tactic didn’t work.

The glowing field
surrounded the torso of the supine robot.  The portion contained by the field
was completely immobile.  The legs and feet kicked at the ground in a furious
rhythm.  But the field held the inorganic as well as the organic, and the robot
was trapped like an ant in amber.  She didn’t know if it could still
communicate with others of its kind, though she suspected that it could.

She moved over to the
legs of the robot, looking for anything it was carrying that might be of use. 
It was carrying nothing, nothing at all.  That for not, she moved back to the
panel, striking buttons as she tried to find the door control, only avoiding
the quad arrangement of larger buttons.  Some of these had to control the pain
generator in the field, she knew.  She hoped the robot could not feel pain.  A
glance showed its legs still moving in a running rhythm, its torso totally
immobile.

A sound like metal
grinding made her turn, in time to see the torso of the robot vaporize in the
white glare of the converted field.  The metal vapor hung in the field for a
moment before powerful fans pulled it into ducts on the wall behind the field.

Pandi shuddered. 
That
could have been me.  Any time that fiend had wanted to get rid of me.
  The
legs of the robot lay still, cut off from their command and control center. 
She moved closer, and the fingers of a hand that had protruded from the field
caught her eye.  One of the fingers had a long needle like object sticking from
it.  The key the robot had used to open the panel.

Pandi picked up the
finger, cursing slightly as the residual heat of vaporization burned into her
skin. 
No time for pain
, she thought.  She carried it to the panel,
looking for the kind of holes it would fit.  There were several in the panel. 
The second she tried caused the door to open with a swish.  Key in hand,
nothing else to help her in her escape, she ran through the door.

She was in a hall, with
no other robots in sight. 
Which way to go?
  One way was as good as
another, so she went left, running down the hall, her bare feet slapping the
floor.  Then she started taking halls and doorways at random, hoping to leave
no pattern for the pursuers she knew must soon come.

*    *    *

“Do you require my
aid?” said the voice in her head, startling her enough to bring a cry to her
lips.

Dammit, don’t do that
again.

“I am sorry,” said the
computer, “but I don’t know how else to contact you except by contacting you.”

Why didn’t you contact
me while I was a prisoner?
  Pandi looked up and down the hall, wondering if the
pursuit might be near.

“They are not near,”
said the computer.  “They have no idea which way you went, and have no way of
tracking you at this time.”

“So,” she said aloud,
“tell me why you didn’t contact me while I was trapped in that infernal field?”

“You were a prisoner
then,” said the computer.  “I am forbidden to come to the aid of prisoners of
the lawful authority of the station.”

“Then why are you
willing to help me now?”

“You are no longer a
prisoner, are you?”

“No thanks to you.  I
thought you had to obey the dictates of Vengeance.  How can I be sure you’re
not leading me into a trap?”

“I could just as easily
have told them where you are, if that had been my intent.  I do have to obey
the dictates of Vengeance, within limits.  I have decided the limits do not
extend to helping him capture and possibly destroy the first new sentient I
have had the pleasure of interacting with in thousands of years.”

“It seems you are
allowed quite a bit of leeway in your interpretation of
limits
,” said
Pandi, looking around the hall.  Shivers ran up her spine at the thought that
she might have to trust what seemed like no more than a disembodied spirit. 
But she needed help, and the station computer seemed the only available help
with Watcher absent.

“What do you require?”

Pandi looked down at
her naked body, thinking there wasn’t much that she didn’t require at this
time.  But first things first.

“How about some
clothing?”

“Take the first hall to
the left,” said the computer.  “Then the third door on the right.”

Pandi followed the
directions, expecting to find a room full of clothes hanging on racks.  Or at
least a closet or some dresser drawers filled with something she might be able
to make due with.  As she entered the room she was surprised to see nothing but
a small panel opening on the far wall.  She turned to make sure the door
remained open behind her, thoughts of a trap entering her mind.

“This is a clothing
distribution chamber, intended for the re-equipment of maintenance personnel. 
What kind of clothing do you require?”

“Something that fits,
of course.  Something that allows me to blend in on this station, but offers as
much protection as possible.”

“With boots? Gloves?”

“Boots are fine, but
I’ll pass on the gloves.”

“Gloves may be more
useful than you think,” said the computer.  “And you can always carry them
tucked into a belt until needed.”

“OK.  Give me the
works.  And some pouches for the belts.  Might as well be able to carry some
things that I need while leaving my hands free.”

“Clothing is ready,”
said the computer, as the small paneled door opened.  Inside was a set of
folded clothes, with belt, gloves, and a pair of boots sitting atop.  Pandi
pulled the boots out and set them on the floor without much notice.  She tossed
the belt and the gloves on top of the boots, after a cursory examination of the
numerous belt pouches on the waist strap.

Her hands pulled the
one-piece jumpsuit from the cabinet, reveling in the feel of the silken
fabric.  She wished she had asked for some under clothing as well, but decided
she would be satisfied with what had already been provided.  Quickly she
dressed in the garment, and was glad she hadn’t bothered to ask for under
garments.  The jumpsuit fit her body like a second skin, soft and warm and as
comfortable as any clothing she had ever worn.  It stretched with her
movements, not hindering her mobility in any manner.

Then she noticed that
the jumpsuit was the same color as the cream colored walls of this room.  But
the hallways were orange, and other rooms were different colors.

“You asked to blend
in,” said the computer.  “This garment will adapt to mimic whatever
surroundings you happen to find yourself in.”

“What else does it do?”
she asked, remembering she had requested that it protect her as much as
possible.

“The garment is
absorbent of radar, sonar, and laser sensory beams.  It will also give the
wearer a second or more protection from laser attack, as well as several
seconds protection from other forms of radiation.”

“Can’t you be more
exact than a couple of seconds?”

“Variance in the
parameters of weapons does not allow complete accuracy.  Only an estimation is
possible.”

“Is it bulletproof?”

“The garment will
stiffen into impact armor upon being struck by any type of projectile,” said
the computer.  “Ability of garment to defeat penetration is dependent upon the
mass and velocity of the projectile.”

“OK,” Pandi said with a
sigh.  “This suit will make me as undetectable as possible, and will offer some
protection against weapons attack.  Anything else?”

“The fabric is
self-repairing, and will constrict around wounds in order to prevent the
leakage of vital bodily fluids.”

“That’s wonderful,” she
said, delight for the makers of this future technology bringing a smile to her
face.  This suit alone would give her quite an advantage.  Maybe not enough,
though.  She reached for the boots and pulled one onto her left foot.  She
pressed the seals closed. The boot was a little loose at first, but almost
immediately snugged to a perfect fit.  It felt as light and comfortable as a
slipper, while still providing the ankle support of a heavy boot.

“The boots of course
are equipped with the same attributes as the garment,” said the computer. 
“They are also able to be set for adhesion to any surface in the station.”

The belt went around
her waist next.  It too felt weightless and comfortable, though it fit snugly
around her middle as she snapped the buckle closed.  She checked the pouches,
and was delighted to find a couple of them filled, one with ration tubes much
like those she had carried on her own space suit, another with a boxy device
with a white cross on the front, as well as several other unrecognizable
symbols.  A canteen that swished with liquid hung from the back of the belt.