The Questor Tapes (21 page)

Questor shook his head, in pity . . . a special kind of pity reserved for ones like Darro. “You heard, but you did not understand. At certain pivotal moments—some so seemingly trivial as to escape notice—we assist men in altering the course of events. We
assist,
Mr. Darro. Perhaps only one word in the right ear, a child protected so he will grow into a man who will be needed—but Man always makes his own destiny.”

“There is only one empty slab left, Questor,” Darro said.

“There is no need for more. My span is two hundred years. If the race of Man outlives me, it will have seen the end of its childhood.”

“Except Man will never make it, Questor,” Darro said bitterly. He flung out an arm, pointing at the tunnel. “They’re waiting for you out there. They’ll take you apart rather than let you go free.” He met Questor’s eyes directly in a level stare. “I would have. I can’t see why these ‘Masters’ of yours even bothered with us.”

“It has never been what Man
is,
” Questor said softly, “but what he has the potential of becoming.”

Jerry straightened up suddenly, guiltily. He had almost forgotten the deal he had made with Darro. “Maybe Man’s too rotten to make it, Questor. When I tell you what I planted on you—”

“I know, Jerry,” Questor interrupted. He reached into his pocket and brought out the small directional transmitter. “I stopped its transmission when we landed here.”

“You knew?” Jerry said incredulously. “Questor, you
knew
I put that in you and you didn’t do anything about it?”

Questor tilted his head slightly to the right, studying Jerry quizzically. “Of course, I am programmed to know if an alien object is placed in me. As for not removing it, such an action would have informed Mr. Darro that I was aware of the transmitter and he would have stopped us before we arrived here.”

“But you didn’t know we’d find Vaslovik before your time was up,” Jerry said.

“In that case, the transmitter would have meant nothing anyway.”

Darro suddenly held out his hand. “Give it to me.”

Questor stared at him for a long moment, gauging him, weighing the implications of what he’d said. “Are you certain, Mr. Darro?”

“The first time I’ve ever been this certain of anything in this world,” Darro said firmly.

“You doubted the worthiness of your race. Have you not just proved it?”

Darro smiled a genuine smile, not the faint crook of the corners of the mouth. But it was grim, and Jerry realized that the hard-bitten cynic had returned.

“Maybe I just don’t like being taken care of,” Darro said. He held out his hand again, and this time Questor put the small transmitter into Darro’s palm. Darro turned and ran for the tunnel entrance. In a moment, he was gone from view.

Jerry turned to Questor, not quite sure of what had just taken place. Questor returned Jerry’s stare with level steadiness. “We will wait ten minutes. Then it will be safe to leave.”

“You can’t be sure of that.”

“Yes, I can,” Questor said. “Mr. Darro has guaranteed it. And I believe you once said his word was comparable to precious metal.”

“Good as gold.”

“Yes.”

“Questor, how can you trust him when you know how he tracked you down?”

Questor smiled sadly and glanced around at the long row of occupied slabs. “He is a man, Jerry. The collective memory now ingrained in me tells me there have been many like him before. He doubts the good in Man; he wonders why your race was brought forth and why it survives. Yet he carries in himself many of the virtues that helped Man survive—honor, courage, a refusal to
stop
surviving no matter what the future. He will not fail us.”

The tunnel “sensed” Darro’s presence and automatically opened with a roaring rush of sound. Darro stepped out and very deliberately rolled down the rocky slope to the natural amphitheater. When he picked himself up, he noted that he had managed to get several bruises, a cut over one eye—giving him a thoroughly battered look. It should do, he thought to himself. Then he began to make his way down the side of the mountain.

He reached the jeep Questor and Robinson had abandoned, and climbed into it. Questor had left the keys in the ignition, and Darro gunned the engine to life, wheeled the jeep around, and headed for the lower slopes, where the troops should be waiting.

Jerry and Questor emerged from the tunnel five minutes later. They picked their way down toward the amphitheater, where the huge monolith reigned. Jerry heard the swirling rush of air behind them and looked back to watch the tunnel close. It shimmered and swirled and finally faded into what appeared to be a perfectly ordinary cliff face.

Questor had paused beside the large boulder “lock” that opened the tunnel entrance. As Jerry came up beside him, Questor motioned at the tree branch Darro had left jammed under the flat boulder after he had forced the stones around and into the tunnel-opening position. “He must have used this as a lever to pry the lock,” Questor said.

Jerry studied it and agreed. Then he looked at the tree branch and the stones, and then around at the terrain. “Questor, where did he get the tree branch?” He waved his hand around to indicate. “It’s just rocks and dirt. No trees, Questor. No trees except for some young ones down closer to the lower slopes. So how did that very handy tree branch get up here for him to use as a lever?”

“I do not know, Jerry. Perhaps it was the work of
your
creator.”

Darro drove the jeep crazily, weaving from side to side, almost tipping as he hit a deep rut, and jounced to a spine-jolting halt near Colonel Hendricks’ vehicle. As the officer ran toward him, Darro stumbled from the jeep and slumped against it, seemingly exhausted and shaken. More than that, he seemed frightened.

“What happened?” Hendricks yelled.

Darro’s voice shook uncertainly. “Vaslovik . . . he
was
insane. He hid several small nuclear bombs up there! The android has them now!” He wiped away blood that had trickled down from a cut under his eye. It smeared into the dirt on his face, giving him a grotesque mask.

Hendricks stared at him, dumbfounded, for an instant. Then he found his voice. “Good Lord!
That thing could touch off a war!”

“That’s exactly what Vaslovik designed it for. Inform all units that we hid a transmitter device in the android’s body—565 megacycles. I doubt if you can pick it up in these hills, but the minute you do hear it, send in the air units.” He turned back to the jeep. “I’ll inform the ground troops.”

“Yes, sir.” Hendricks ran toward the radio transmitter in his command jeep.

Darro climbed into Questor’s vehicle and gunned it away, speeding rapidly back toward the airstrip. The small private jet Questor and Robinson had flown there rested on the tired, weathered runway like a sleek young bird in an old nest. Darro ironically wondered if he had learned to fly jets for just this moment. Had some android put the right word in someone’s ear about
him?
He parked the jeep and hurried to the jet. As he climbed in and settled in the left hand seat, he briefly reflected on the question he had posed himself.
Had
he been manipulated all his life? Was he being manipulated now? He decided he was not. There never was a decision he had made without a clear and hard-eyed look at where it would lead him. He had made the same kind of decision back in the alien chamber.

He leaned forward and began to throw switches systematically. The jet engines whined to life. Then Darro brought the transmitting device from his pocket, set it down beside him, and threw the switch on it.

The young sergeant operating the triangulation station suddenly stiffened, listening intently to a sound in his earphones. He twisted around toward Colonel Hendricks, who stood by, waiting. “There it is, sir.”

“Notify the air units,” Hendricks barked over his shoulder. “We’ll give them the coordinates in a minute.”

Questor and Jerry waited in the silent amphitheater on the mountain, looking out toward the plain. Neither had spoken; they just waited. Questor was deeply thoughtful, as if he were scanning all the material in his computer banks to find an answer where there was none. Of course, he had done that before; but this time he had an answer. It was the
reason
that mystified him. Suddenly he lifted his head, hearing something with his hypersensitive ears that Jerry could not pick up.

“Questor?” Jerry said, noticing the android’s alert, tense posture.

Questor waved a hand to still him. “A moment, Jerry. It will end soon.”

Jerry scanned the sky, looking where Questor did, squinting into the bright clear blue over the plain. “I can’t see anything.”

“I wish I could not.”

The private jet soared up, cutting the air with its slim body, then leveled off and ran for the sea. The sergeant at the triangulation station listened on his earphones intently, then looked toward Colonel Hendricks.

“Signal’s airborne, sir. One of our squadrons and a French flight are pacing it.”

Hendricks nodded curtly. “Tell them to shoot it down.”

The private jet had a headstart, but there was no way it could outrun combat fighters. Two separate flights, French and American, wheeled in behind it. On a signal from their flight leaders, they fell into attack pattern with deadly precision.

Their prey climbed, clawing for altitude. The fighters mercilessly angled after it. One at a time, closely following one another, they released their missiles.

Jerry saw the last of it. No one could miss the giant ball of flame that erupted from high in that hard blue sky. Debris and smoke and fragments fell in black charred pieces to the ungiving earth. It was over, as Questor had promised. Jerry looked at him, shaken.

“I don’t understand, Questor. If he hated humanity so much—”

Questor shook his head. “He hated what he believed Mankind is, Jerry. Not what it can become.” He held out a hand, indicating a way down the slope in the direction opposite from the way they had come. “Come. We must leave here, in case they decide to search this area.”

Jerry followed him down through the rocky terrain until they reached a footpath that wound toward the plain and the little farms in the distance. They walked silently for over an hour, each wrapped in a cocoon of his own thoughts. They had reached the outskirts of a small village before Jerry spoke.

“Where do you go now, Questor?”

“They know now that an android is possible, Jerry. And some may not believe I’m destroyed.”

Jerry looked back toward the mountain. “You could always hide out in the chamber.”

“I was not made to hide, nor was the chamber designed for that purpose. It is the beginning and the end for me and those who came before me. Until it is time for me to end, I must walk this world of yours and follow the imperative and the law given to me by Vaslovik.” He stopped, reaching out to Jerry. “I need you to help me.”

“With
your
mental and physical capabilities?”

“But I’m vulnerable, too, you saw that. I need assistance in other things . . . the illogical behavior pattern of the human species . . . social customs.” He smiled wryly. “And trivial things, like humor.” His smile faded, and his voice changed to a sad plea. “Vaslovik passed on too soon. Help me, Jerry. Please.”

Jerry was bewildered and overwhelmed. “I don’t know how I can, Questor. I’m . . . only human.”

“That is why I need you. Remember, you heard the Truth in the chamber—and Vaslovik gave you a responsibility.”

“He said I had a choice.”

They stared at each other in silence until the spell was broken by a small girl who barreled around the corner of a house on her short little legs. She stopped, frozen by the sight of the two strangers. She was perhaps three, dressed in worn peasant clothing, her jet-black hair framing a piquant little face dominated by ebony eyes. She seemed to shrink away from them, frightened, curling in on herself away from these intruders. Her face crumpled up, preparatory to crying.

Questor turned toward Jerry, at a loss. “Jerry . . . a child. I have never—”

“It’s easy. Smile at her. Laugh. Like this!” He knelt in the dust of the road, making himself eye level with the child, and smiled at her. She stared at him uncertainly. Jerry winked. Her little face began to smooth out and change to curiosity. Jerry glanced around and saw some delicate flowers growing wild in the grass beside him. He picked them and held them out to her, smiling. The child smiled back and stepped forward to take the flowers.

Jerry laughed, and the girl ran forward into his arms. He caught her and swung her high, up into his arms. Her happy giggle rang out, tickling the air. Jerry passed her over to Questor, who smiled at her. The girl flung her arms around Questor’s neck and kissed his cheek. Jerry was sure he saw Questor’s face turn a slightly deeper shade of pink. Questor put the girl up on his shoulder, holding her there as they walked through the village. The child squealed with delight and enjoyed the ride.

“You see,” Questor said to Jerry, “I do need you. I would have made her cry.” He glanced up at the small girl. “She is a feather. Her weight smiles on my shoulder. See how light humanity can be?”

Jerry looked at them both and finally nodded. “All right, Questor. I’ll help where I can. At least you might need oiling now and then.”

He grinned at Questor, and Questor smiled back. They had reached the edge of the village, and Questor put the child down. She hugged his neck again before she let him go and offered him one of the wild flowers. He took it and set it carefully in the buttonhole of his shirt. The girl turned to Jerry and gave him one of the delicate blossoms, too. Then she watched them as they walked away, down the dusty road. Once, Jerry looked back and saw her waving. He waved, and then turned away to follow Questor.

The scientists on Project Questor, the Army, and the Air Force greatly publicized the fact that the project had failed. The escaped lunatic the police had been hunting was reported captured. There was no public mention of an android.

But in London, Francis Scott Campbell invested and reinvested and placed the profits in a special Swiss account at the instructions he periodically received from a client. Lady Helena Trimble traveled and entertained and gathered information and always answered the phone, hoping to hear one certain voice. In New York, Forbes and Mrs. Chavez correlated information as requested by their employer. In a chamber deep in the heart of a mountain, an empty slab waited.