The Mind Pool (35 page)

“—a difficult problem of inverse computation,” said Angel. “Given the terrain, to define an aircar movement that would lead the Simulacrum to follow a prescribed path, one that ensures continued ground visibility.”

“Difficult, maybe. But exactly the sort of thing that you know how to do, Angel. We tease the Simmie away from its hiding-place, away from Dreamsea. Then once it’s well away from all the Shellback habitats, we can go in and we can—we can subdue it.”

Subdue.
Chan knew better than to say the words that were really in his mind.
Kill. Destroy. Annihilate. Murder.
Those were the right words, and all uniquely human.

It was not a fact likely to make any human feel proud.

* * *

Chan’s “plan” was so simple-minded and fallible that he had hesitated even to suggest it. The instant acceptance by all the others gave him a new insight into the members of the Stellar Group. Even Angel, with its great intellect, found certain thought patterns quite inaccessible. If humanity’s worst fear ever came true and an aggressive species appeared from beyond the Perimeter, then defense would have to rely on humans alone. Intelligent as they were, the others would be no more than cannon fodder. It was no criticism of them; they simply could not think in the necessary terms.

But in every other area that Chan could imagine, the alien members of the team functioned outstandingly. S’greela and Shikari had done an unbelievable job on the aircar. Hovering under automatic control, high above Barchan, the car seemed a brilliant celestial phenomenon, a comet that streamed its tail (How had the two of them ever managed
that
effect?) halfway across the night sky. Every evening the apparition shone brighter and more colorful. But every evening, moving like a true cometary orbit, its appearance became visible farther to the north. A good view of it from the shores of Dreamsea became more and more difficult.

Angel had calculated the Simulacrum’s most probable path away from the side of the lake. Chan had examined that path on foot, and decided the best ambush point and the best position for each team member.

Angel, too slow to be any use physically during the final moments of confrontation, had been assigned the role of observer. It would occupy an oversight position, and warn the others if and when the Simmie left its hiding-place under the shelf of rock. The form of that warning had been the subject of heated argument until Chan cut off the discussion. He was worried by the Simmie’s intelligence and the sophistication of its sensing apparatus. He had vetoed any signal that might be intercepted and decoded. If the Simmie moved from its hideout, Angel would transmit a single flash of light, tightly beamed towards the others.

S’greela worried that the signal might be missed, until the Tinker offered a reassurance: with the many thousands of eyes available in Shikari’s composite, some would always be focused on Angel’s secluded position.

And the time for action was finally arriving. Shikari whistled softly in the warm night air. Angel had given the sign, and the Simmie Artefact was on the way. The positions of the other three had been chosen carefully. If the Simmie followed anywhere close to the path predicted by Angel, each of them would have a clear shot at it without endangering the others. And no matter what variation on the path the Simmie might adopt, if it followed the aircar at all two of the team would have a good target.

Chan, Shikari, and S’greela were sitting roughly ninety degrees apart on the perimeter of a circle which had the Simmie’s most probable emergence point at its center. If and when it appeared they would be less than thirty meters away from it.

Chan glanced at his watch. Any time now, according to Angel’s prediction. He froze, and tried not to blink his eyes.

It was there. The latticed wing panels of the Simmie, peeping into view above a sharp edge of rock. Ten more seconds, and the silver-blue body would be revealed. At this range it would be impossible to miss. Already Chan had his weapon lined up in the correct firing position.

He had a last-minute worry. Would S’greela and Shikari have had the sense to prepare their weapons ahead of time? Any warning noise now could ruin everything.

The Simmie moved into full view. The team had agreed, there would be no signal given to fire. Each member would shoot as soon as the complete target was visible.

Chan sighted along his gun. His finger was on the trigger. Two more seconds—one more second—

A gigantic bounding figure raced across his field of view. It was S’greela, emerging from cover on Chan’s left. At the same instant an intense whirring of wings sounded from the right. A frenzied cloud of Tinker components surged forward and dropped like a dark cloud. A moment before Chan could press the trigger, S’greela was on top of the Simmie and the two ofthem were buried beneath the Tinker swarm. All that could be seen in Chan’s sights was a purple-black, writhing mound.

Chan groaned aloud—no point in silence now—and ran forward, weapon at the ready. It was useless. He could catch no more than random glimpses of the Simmie, and any shot was just as likely to Kill S’greela. He suddenly realized his own weakness. His instructions had been explicit: If you have to kill other team members in order to kill a Construct, do it! But he couldn’t do it himself. He wouldn’t fire on S’greela and Shikari, no matter what happened.

He skidded to a halt by the side of the wriggling mass. As he did so, the violent movement began to subside. Tinker components were separating, layer after sticky layer. At last S’greela was revealed, eight jointed limbs locked around the body of the Simmie. When the final fluttering components of the Tinker were detached, S’greela stood up. The immobilized Simmie was held casually in her midlimbs.

“I am most sorry.” The Pipe-Rilla nodded apologetically to Chan. “That was not my planned action. But when this appeared”—the Simmie was lifted a foot or so—“I realized that I would be unable to discharge my weapon. I also realized that I could not ignore my responsibility to help to incapacitate the Simulacrum. Fortunately, Angel and I had discussed a procedure for just such an eventuality, although I did not expect to employ it.”

“Nor did we,” said Shikari hoarsely. The Tinker was still in process of re-assembly, and the speaking funnel was not quite ready. “We also found ourselves unable to fire. We thought that by swarming we might overcome the Simulacrum alone. We were wrong, but luckily for us S’greela had already accomplished the task.”

“Not so!” S’greela shook her head in the human gesture she had learned from Chan. “I had
not
succeeded! Without assistance of Shikari’s swarm I could not have gained full control. But now”—To Chan’s horror S’greela placed the Simmie gently on the ground, where it lay staring at him with luminous compound eyes—“now there is no danger. I have removed its weapons.” She held an array of armaments out to Chan, each one capable of atomizing the pursuit team. “Here you are. The Simulacrum is disarmed and helpless. Chan, what should we do now?”

Chan raised his gun and pointed it at the Simmie. His duty was clear. A moment later he lowered the weapon. What he might have done readily enough, to a dangerous enemy, he could never do to the unarmed and helpless creature on the ground in front of him.

It was a sick joke. He could not do what he was supposed to do, and Shikari and S’greela had done just the
opposite
of what they had been directed to do. And now they calmly asked him what they ought to do next!

What should we do now?
The perfect question. Chan turned to the Simmie, studying it more closely. Without the formidable arsenal of weapons it looked delicate, almost fragile. One of the wing panels had been injured in the scuffle, and it was trailing painfully along the ground. The glowing eyes stared at him steadily, intelligently, waiting for Chan to decide its fate.

“Can you understand me?”

The Simulacrum gave no answer. Chan turned to S’greela and Shikari. “It’s supposed to have vocal circuits. Do either of you know how to communicate with a Simmie?”

S’greela shook her head. “That is a situation which was not anticipated in any of my briefings.”

“Nor in mine. But you caught it. So you tell me, what are we going to do with it?”

“Await our arrival.”
It was Angel, breaking radio silence—as it was not supposed to do. Wasn’t
anybody
going to follow the plan?

Chan switched his own unit to send. “Where are you?”

“We are on the way now. We are confident that we will be able to achieve communication.”

Without consulting Chan, S’greela went bounding away across the rocky surface. After another second, Shikari quickly dispersed and flew off in the same direction.

Chan was very much alone. He stared gloomily down at the Simulacrum. Without S’greela and Shikari, it suddenly looked a lot less harmless—except for the expression in those dark eyes.

He crouched down for a closer inspection of the wounded wing panel. “First thing we do, we have a go at this.” Could it understand him, or even hear him? “I’m sure we can repair it for you, if you can’t re-grow it for yourself.”

The awful truth hit him, as he gently lifted the delicate membrane.
What in heaven’s name were they going to do with the Simmie?
If they took it back to Headquarters it might simply be recycled. Put out as bait for one team after another, until finally one came along that was resolute or callous enough to kill it. And that was unacceptable. Studying the Simmie’s quiet and harmless life on the Dreamsea shore, and listening to the other team members, had given Chan a different perspective. The Simulacrum was no more than an Artefact, but even an Artefact had its own joys and sorrows. It had not
asked
to be made, any more than he had asked to be intelligent. Maybe it too had
feelings,
dreams and sorrows and desires all its own. And if he, a “war-mad” human, could think such thoughts, how must Shikari, S’greela and Angel be feeling?

No wonder the others had not been able to shoot. No wonder they had—without him—discussed ways to incapacitate a Simmie without harming it.

Chan thought of Leah’s team. According to the pursuit team trainers, they had destroyed their Simulacrum. But was that true—or had they found a secret way to allow it to continue its existence, unknown to anyone else?

He might never know the answer to that question. And S’greela was reappearing, Angel held lightly in her mid-limbs. The mobile cloud of Shikari was not far behind. The tall Pipe-Rilla stooped and placed her burden gently on the ground right next to the Simulacrum. To Chan’s surprise, every frond on Angel’s bulky body went at once into agitated motion. The communications unit turned to face him.

“Before we begin to converse with the Simulacrum,” said Angel, “We wish to congratulate you—and each other. We are all in total agreement. This is a wonderful day. Chan, we are at last a
team.
”

“And what a team!” added S’greela. “Do you not agree, Chan? We have performed wonderfully—
better than any of us ever dared to hope.
”

Shikari was still in process of re-assembly, but the surface of the Tinker shook in violent agitation.

“Shikari agrees,” added S’greela. “And we are still improving! We will become better yet.”

“Better!” Chan turned on the Pipe-Rilla. “What do you mean,
better
? We didn’t do one damned thing as we’d agreed to do it. And we’re going to have to
explain
all this! As soon as we reach Srat’lan, and report back to Anabasis Headquarters, they’ll—”

He stopped. The others were not listening to him, not one of them.

“Better,” said Angel cheerfully. “Much, much better! As we all know,
Practice makes perfect.
”

Chapter 27

Luther Brachis could feel the difference; in the guards at the Sargasso Dump, in Captain Ridley, most of all inside the nitrogen bubble that held the fragmented and etiolated brain of M-26A.

The hair bristled on the back of his neck. But he could not begin to explain the reason for his reaction as he reviewed the new project records.

Phoebe Willard appeared to be in full control of the project, and she was clearly enjoying herself mightily. Her report showed remarkable progress in communicating with M-26A. Already the brain remnant of the Construct had been fed enough data to allow a million questions to be asked and answered.

The change in Blaine Ridley, however, was most remarkable of all. The replacement eye no longer rolled in his head. His rebuilt jaw did not waggle constantly from side to side. When Brachis appeared in the bubble, Ridley stood to attention, saluted smartly, and said, “Ready to proceed, Commander. Interface has already been established for you.”

What would he have said and done a month ago? Writhed and jerked and stammered, and peed his pants. Ridley’s improvement was a cause for rejoicing. And yet . . .

“Very good, Captain. Dismissed.”

The inside of the bubble felt cold after Ridley had gone. It
was
cold, at the temperature of liquid nitrogen. But Brachis’s hardened suit was working fine. He ought to be comfortable inside it at absolute zero, or on the surface of the sun.

There had to be another reason for his inner shiver, and surely it was both psychological and physical. He was squeezing this visit into a schedule that had no room for it, stealing sleep to make the local Link out to the Dump. And he would have to push himself even harder when he got back to Ceres.

He forced his attention to the keyboard, and typed a new input.

I want to ask you questions regarding the possible capture of the escaped Morgan Construct by a Pursuit Team consisting of human, Tinker, Pipe-Rilla, and Angel members.

That was not a question, and Brachis knew better than to expect anything of M-26A unless he asked a direct inquiry. He typed on.
You have received data on the Pursuit Teams. You have also received data concerning the most probable location of the escaped Morgan Construct. Question: Based on your knowledge of Constructs, and of the individual species that constitute a Pursuit Team, can you estimate the probability of success of
any
Pursuit Team, as presently constituted, capturing or destroying the escaped Construct?