The Machine's Child (Company) (46 page)

For a while.

Gray early morning on the open sea, just at the hour when survivors of a sleepless night begin to be able to make out the shapes of the furniture and realize, despairing, that the stars have faded. Alec, however, was sound asleep and dreaming, in his vast bed, with its gilded skull-and-crossbone carvings.

. . . They had closed his body in the jade framework, and he couldn’t run, but that was all right because this was his chance to atone at last. So he nodded courteously at the skeletal host standing all around, the charred victims of Mars Two whose blood was still unavenged.
His
victims. Hanging here at Execution Dock was the least he could do for them. He was already rotting away. One leg was gone, and the rest of him was a tangle of wires and chips. His skull was golden. No human thing at all, really.

. . . And then it wasn’t Execution Dock, it was the arcade, and the dead of Mars were waiting to see him play. There was a dog at his feet, leaping back and forth. “Go for it!” it barked, in Joseph’s voice. There were other spectators, too: big men, all his lost fathers, glaring with cold pale righteous eyes.

And the game was starting, and the globe of light materialized in front of him, and there was the monster! Guilty Alec Checkerfield, in his loud shirt, the Hangar Twelve Man . . .

. . . A deck below, Smee the servounit hummed and shook in a kind of electronic palsy. It flailed its arms. It raced twice around its track. Halting before a bolt of cotton, it gripped one end and yanked.

The cloth spilled out and Smee went through the motions of measuring it, but at frenzied speed. The cloth caught, bound in the joint of one of his manipulative members. It began to wad up, bunching, tight and tighter.

. . . A deck above, Alec was wadding the sheet between his fingers, sweating as he slept.

. . . He looked disdainfully at the pointpistol. “This thing’s no use,” he informed the crowd.” No silver bullets.” But Alec knew he had what it took to set things right. He had an amazing brain. He took off his head, hefted his golden skull, and bowled it straight and true at his image.

BANG! Yes, he blew himself away, watched with satisfaction as his liver and maybe half his spinal column went flying. And everyone was cheering except Mendoza, who was weeping within her blue-lit tank. “Hey,” he told her regretfully,” this thing’s bigger than both of us. What was I supposed to do?” . . .

. . . A deck below, the snagged and crumpled cloth was piling high. A thin curl of smoke had begun to rise from Smee’s stuck arm, as its servo-motor keened.

A sensor in the room noted the heat, and suddenly a ceiling-mounted camera opened a red eye and swiveled. Ten seconds later the door opened, and Flint and Billy Bones scuttled in. Billy Bones reared back, swung a weighted blade, and sheared off Smee’s arm. Flint caught it before it could drop burning plastic on the dry cotton, and hurried off to dispose of it safely. Billy Bones stalked to Smee’s control panel, reached in and shut it down, and pulled away the torn cloth. Then it moved close, running a scan of Smee’s systems. It noted that no oil dripped from the lubrication housing . . .

. . . “No, really, it’s not you. It’s me,” he was explaining, but she just kept crying.” You’re a wonderful person, and you deserve somebody much better . . .”

Wake up, Alec.

Alec woke to find the room crackling with blue flames. Mendoza struggled beside him, in a nightmare she couldn’t seem to escape. He reached for her at once.

Leave her be! Best she sleep.

But—holy shit, the bed’s on fire,
said Alec dazedly. Edward and Nicholas sat up on either side of him, staring.

On fire, says you? This ain’t nothing to what it might have been. Why the bloody Hell ain’t you been doing routine maintenance on the costume servounit?

What?
Alec rubbed his face.
What did you—oh. Smee? But I have been, Captain. What’s going on?

No, you ain’t. I played back the surveillance data, and you didn’t refill Lubrication Reservoir Six last time you worked on him. Why, Alec?

Well—then, I must have forgotten! Okay?
Alec turned distractedly to Mendoza, but Nicholas was holding her close and frowning at him.
Captain, have you crashed or something? It’s, what, two bells, morning watch?

Aye, and a damn good thing I were standing watch, too.

Have we narrowly avoided some calamity?
Edward inquired, looking hard at Alec.

Ignoring him, the Captain fed the surveillance data from Smee’s cabin
straight into Alec’s brain. Alec received it and went pale. “Shrack,” he muttered aloud.

Shrack, is it? Is that all you got to say for yerself, boy? Remember that little talk we had, about what’d happen if I ever caught you trying to scuttle yerself again?

Captain, I swear, this was an accident!
Alec said.

Unwilling to show Alec the other surveillance footage—that of Alec’s fingers working on the sheet in eerie unison with Smee’s gripping members—the Captain attempted to get his rage under control. The red lights on his cameras flickered. Edward looked from Alec to the cameras. He leaned back, folding his arms, watching in silence.

Accident. Aye. Well, afore we has any more accidents, I reckon it’s time to get down to business. There’s been enough shore leave! We’re going after prizes, now.

Okay, Captain,
said Alec, in the most reasonable voice he could summon. He looked worriedly at Mendoza, who had grown quieter; though blue lightnings still shimmered across the coverlet.

I been finding references in other Company files to a place designated as Alpha-Omega. It’s about the farthest point back in the past the Company’s got a facility: 500,000 years
BCE
. I reckon I mentioned that the more valuable things is, the farther back in time Dr. Zeus seems to stow ’em? So this should be the richest cache yet. And what’s in it, near as I can tell, is biological material.

Which would be DNA, I guess,
Alec said.

Aye, most likely. Genetic components, from every race what’s ever evolved and a lot of ’em what went extinct. I reckon this is where the Company got the stuff they mixed you from in the first place, so it makes sense they’d keep the rest of the batch here, too. It looks likely enough to plan an expedition, leastways.

Yeah,
said Alec after a long pause. Nicholas looked at him.

Thou art afeared,
he said.
Come, boy, thou shalt be made free of sickness and death. Wherefore then wilt thou fear?

Because I killed all those people in Mars Two,
Alec said miserably.
And then I crawled away and hid, when I should have stood trial before the whole world.
He turned to Nicholas.
That’s one thing I have to respect you for, man. You weren’t a coward. You had your moment when you stood up and confronted
your accusers, you know? You faced the fire. I’d give anything for the chance to do that.

Nicholas looked horrified.

No, boy! That was vain pride. God, God, wilt thou not learn from my error?

You listen to him, Alec, that’s bloody good advice.

You don’t think it’s—sinful, or unnatural, or something? Me becoming immortal, too? With all that Bible stuff you used to read?
Alec said.

Nicholas grabbed him by his shoulders.
What did I learn therefrom? I accomplished nothing in my time, save only comforting a frightened girl; and then I betrayed her, in the name of my own salvation. Who am I, to have eternal life? Yet it may be granted to thee, boy. Take it!

I can’t even imagine Eternity,
said Alec.

Then wilt thou send
her
to walk there alone? I left her in darkness, at the mercy of time. Thou must not!
cried Nicholas.

Alec looked around the room and knew they were still there in their hundreds, the dead of Mars, unseen, and knew they would never go away as long as he lived. Despairing, he reached out and stroked back Mendoza’s hair.

Oh, baby . . . if only we’d met some other time.
But Nicholas shook his head.

All time is one. What thou art, thou art in any age of the world,
said Nicholas.
Edward and I bear witness to that. Redeem our sins, boy, for we cannot.

He hasn’t the courage,
said Edward quietly.

You go to Hell,
Alec raged, turning on him.
You’ve never been sorry a day in your life for anything you’ve done, have you?

I took my punishment like a man when my hour came round,
Edward replied.
If there is a God who cares about anything you’ve done, He’ll strike with retribution soon enough; you needn’t go crawling to Him begging for it in the meanwhile. Set your course for Alpha-Omega, Captain, make a way and a means. Alec’s outrun the clock long enough.

Mendoza gave a little cry and clutched at Alec. They bent to comfort her at once, all three; but she sighed and relaxed again, sleeping on.

Nefer was busy. It wasn’t the most dignified work in the world, for an august lady with several millennia under her belt—shoveling horse manure into a fusion hopper, going back and forth across the courtyard from the stable to the utility area—but it kept her happy.

She set aside the shovel, hosed down the stable floor, and washed her hands. Then she hoisted a great sack of feed mix and filled the manger. Her charges whickered and moved in for their breakfast at once. She leaned against the stall, watching them with a tender smile.

They were not, as you might expect, purebred Arabians. They were rather odd-looking little horses, actually, at least to anyone unfamiliar with cave paintings. They had been extinct for thirty thousand years, as far as the mortal world knew. What three mares and a stallion were doing in Fez, in a walled garden secure from casual observers, is a long story that needn’t be gone into here.

“You’ll like this stuff, Hippie,” Nefer told the stallion. “This is Oatie Delight. Mortals eat it for breakfast food. It costs a lot, but what else have I got to spend money on, huh?”

The little horse nodded wisely, pulling away and going to the fountain-trough for a drink.

“I hope it’s not too salty,” said Nefer. She looked out across the courtyard as Nan emerged from the guest compound, still wearing her dressing gown, carrying a cup of coffee. Nefer waved. Nan waved back rather listlessly and after a moment walked across to join her.

“So, how are things in Paris?” inquired Nefer.

“A little colder than I care to endure just now,” Nan replied, sipping her coffee. “But the work goes very well.”

“And . . .”

“No change,” said Nan, too quietly, and Nefer put an arm around her and kissed her.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, and cleared her throat. “I heard your museum got the Da Vinci horse.”

Nan nodded. “I’m advising and Shemaiah is doing the actual hands-on restoration. It ought to be magnificent when it’s finished.”

“I can’t wait to see,” said Nefer. “At least . . . I guess I’ll get to see a holo or something on it.”

She sighed. Nan shook her head.

“Nef, dear . . . you know it would probably be safe to travel. You might get Latif to escort you.”

“It isn’t just paranoia keeping me here,” Nefer replied. “Not completely, anyway. We’re conducting a sort of experiment. Will anybody in the Company notice I’ve dropped completely out of sight the last few decades? I haven’t set a foot outside the gate since I got here. Is anybody monitoring my data transcript any more? How hard is it to disappear?”

Nan stared into her coffee. The stallion wandered up to the edge of the stall and studied her. She reached out to stroke its nose. “I suppose it would be easier if one had agoraphobia,” she remarked.

“I wish!” Nefer said, reaching for a brush and leaning over to stroke tangles from the stallion’s spiky mane. “If it wasn’t for my little babies keeping me busy . . . I always hated layovers. Sometimes at night, I dream I’m out on the Serengeti, or even in the desert. I can see for miles, just miles of open yellow plain. So much air and light! And there are herds going down to the green places where water is and I can see every detail, all the calves and foals just perfect, so tiny. Wildebeest, zebra, gazelle. Every creature I ever saved is there. I can almost reach out and touch them. Sometimes I wake up and I’ll have walked in my sleep, for crying out loud, I’ll be standing at the casement window with my face pressed against the blinds.”

“That’s your programming,” observed Nan.

“A conditioning nightmare? Maybe. But it’d be a good dream, Nan, if
I didn’t have to wake up,” said Nefer. One of the little mares noticed the attention the stallion was getting and came pushing up to the wall, too. “Oh, sweetie, you’re just Miss Envious, aren’t you? Look at you, look how nice your mane is. I must have spent an hour brushing it last night.” Nefer chuckled sadly. “See the kind of time I’ve got on my hands?”

Nan made a sympathetic noise over her coffee. Nefer tilted her head back to look at the sky, hot and blue above the high wall.

“I guess that’s how they’ll get me, in the end,” she mused. “One of these nights I’ll dream that dream again, and I won’t be able to stand it anymore. I’ll just get my field kit and walk out of the house, leave the walls behind me, walk into that yellow landscape. Follow the coast down through the western Sahara or go back through the mountains and strike out inland, make for the Blue Nile and follow it up. Actually?” She turned her head to look at Nan. “Actually, if I’m still around when 2355 comes? That is what I’ll do. I’ve promised myself. Let the Silence find me out there, with the herds.”

There had been a time when Nan would have hastened to say something dissuasive and morale-boosting. Now, however, she simply nodded.