A Device Of Death Part 12

As it recharged, Sarah recounted her adventures up to their meeting. It felt good to talk aloud, even if it was just to a machine giving a convincing imitation of awareness and interest. Besides, she needed time to think. How might the synthoid fit into her plans? It would make a powerful ally, but would it obey her orders?

'So I was going to wait until the ship was well under way before sneaking out of here,' she explained. 'I thought perhaps I could find a radio, or whatever they use, and send a distress call hoping the Doctor might get to hear it somehow. Or, if I could get hold of a weapon, maybe hijack the ship and force the crew to fly to an Alliance base.' She smiled half to herself.

'That sounds pretty unlikely, doesn't it?' she admitted candidly, 'but I have to try something.'

'Plan as related had low probability of success. Why did you not wait in the camp for rescue? You were safe there.' Its voice was steadier and better modulated now, and, she thought, carrying slightly more inflection than those of the Averon guards.

'It's a human thing to want freedom at almost any price, but I don't suppose you can understand that.'

'Synthonic units are programmed to work with all intelligent species belonging to the Landoran Alliance.

Courage, determination and self-sacrifice in the cause of the war are to be encouraged.' It sounded as though it was relating a set of orders.

'Yes, but you can't understand understand these qualities, can you? I mean, you don't actually these qualities, can you? I mean, you don't actually feel feel them yourself inside.' them yourself inside.'

'Synthonic units are not programmed to "feel", or to partic.i.p.ate in any irrational behaviour, except the utilization of random number theory during tactical evasive manoeuvres.'

'I'm sure you're not.' She frowned. 'By the way, how did you get damaged like that? And what's your name, or number rather?'

'This unit is designated as a Synthonic Mobile Infantry Unit, Trooper Cla.s.s: serial number 36025D. On Alliance world Tarracos it was redesignated a Mobile Armed Auxiliary to conform with local military structure. Damage occurred while engaged in battle mode on fifth planet of system, repelling enemy known as Garvantine, also colloquially referred to by Tarracosian soldiers as "Garvs", "Three eyes", "Slimers" '

'I know the sort of thing; go on.'

'This unit was leading an a.s.sault on position known as Hill 37, when it was struck by an armour-piercing projectile which penetrated its body sh.e.l.l. Progressive loss of sensory input and motor control began almost immediately. Speculate projectile contained a synthetic short-lived virus designed to attack control circuitry and primary brain core. Optimum response indicated shutting down all nonessential repairs to concentrate on regeneration of brain core and replicating new neural paths.

Higher cognitive and reflex functions were inhibited during this period. Speculate this was when unit was acquired by enemy and removed for further examination.'

'Well, that explains how you got here, 36025D, and now we're stuck with each other,' Sarah said. Then, thinking of Angelyn Marcavos, she added, 'I'm not going to call you by a number, and anyway 36025D doesn't exactly trip off the tongue. "Synth" isn't right. Anything I can have an intelligent conversation with should have a proper straightforward name.'

'Numbers are logical individual designations. Organic life forms are also regulated and categorized by numbers.'

'Yes, but only occasionally for necessity. We try not to let them take over our lives.' She suddenly screwed up her eyes and clasped her head in her hands. 'Why am I debating philology with a machine when I should be trying to work out how to call for help or take over this ship?'

36025D hesitated for a moment, then said almost diffidently, 'Because you are human?'

Sarah opened her mouth to protest and suddenly found herself laughing. It had been so long since she laughed that she had almost forgotten what it felt like. It was an intense emotional release and hard to stop. She held her sides as her chest muscles began to ache.

'Are you unwell?' 36025D asked, almost sounding concerned.

'You made a joke,' she choked out.

'This unit is not programmed for humour. An irrational response indicates proper mental functions are not yet restored. Regenerated neural pathways require further adjustment.'

'No, don't change anything on my account I liked it.' She wiped the tears from her eyes. 'Humour usually makes people feel better, even when things are bad, like they are now.'

'Humour is illogical.'

'Yes, frequently. That's why it's fun. And while we're about it, why don't you stop calling yourself as "this unit".

Can't you say "I"?'

' "I," ' said 36025D obligingly.

'I mean, use "I", the personal p.r.o.noun, when you mean yourself. Say: "I am..." Uh, what? Something appropriate: Synthonic Mobile Infantry Unit, S-M-I-U can't make much of that. Mobile Armed Auxiliary, M-AA? No. AuX...X...M-A-X. Max. I'll call you Max.'

'Will this be good for your morale?'

'Yes.'

'As you wish. New unit recognition symbol and conversational configuration installed.'

'h.e.l.lo, Max,' she said, finding herself grinning foolishly.

Impulsively she held out her hand. 'How do you do.'

'How do I what?'

'A human greeting you must have seen it.'

'Yes, but we have already met.'

'Yes, but now we're on first-name terms. Before we hadn't been properly introduced.'

'This is illogical.'

'Oh, boo to logic. Improvise. Be yourself. There's nothing in your programming that says you have to behave exactly like every other synthoid, is there?'

Hesitantly, using its human-shaped hand, Max gently took hold of her hand and shook it gravely. 'How do you do, Sarah.

Is that satisfactory?'

'It's fine. Now, Max: how are you really feeling now? We must start finding out who's on this ship. Can you stand?'

Max slowly got to his feet. Sarah had to admit he looked impressive, which was probably intentional. If only he was fully armed and powered up she would feel a lot happier.

'Can you manage without the cable?'

'I now have over three standard hours of reserve at nominal levels of function.'

'Well, that should do to be going on with. We'd better make a move. If only we knew how long the journey's going to take, or when the crew sleep.'

'How long since departure?' Max asked.

'Uh, I didn't look at my watch, but about one and a half, maybe two hours.'

'A freighter should have completed the journey to Averon in that time.'

'You mean we're going to be landing any minute?' Sarah said in alarm. 'I thought it might take a couple of days...oh, of course, I was thinking of the time it took the Apollo mission to go from Earth to the moon. Maybe we should stay where we are. I can get back inside that hollow casing again and you can play dead, and let them carry us out the other end. We'll have to chance what happens then.' She had to pause to take a deep breath, then another. She frowned. 'Is it my imagination or is the air getting stuffy in here?' She shivered and clapped her hands across her chest. 'And it's colder.'

There was louvered ducting on the bulkhead over the inner hatch. She walked over to it feeling very heavy-footed. There was no sound of fans. She reached up. There was no draught.

She realized Max was standing beside her, head tilted back.

'Thermal scan indicates no heat output,' he said.

'Additional audio a.n.a.lysis detects no transmitted vibrations from any other part of the ventilation system. Conclusion: it has failed or been turned off. The hold is cooling to s.p.a.ce through the outer bulkhead, and your metabolic functions have depleted the air contained within. You must leave or you will shortly cease to function.'

'You mean I'll die,' Sarah said bluntly, taking another deep breath. 'All right, I've no choice. But you needn't risk being caught as well. It won't harm you to stay here, so why not go back to playing dead. Let them carry you out when we land and maybe you'll have a chance to get away.'

'No,' Max stated flatly. 'We shall stay together.'

Sarah decided not to protest in the circ.u.mstances. Max unplugged the power transfer coupling and coiled it away in the niche in his side. Then he turned the hatchway handle. It opened easily. Sarah peered cautiously through, looking both ways quickly. Beyond was a short dark corridor spa.r.s.ely lit by a couple of the blue glow strips, with a steep metal stairway at one end. The air was a little fresher and warmer, but not much.

It was deathly quiet. Max stepped out beside her and stood very still for a moment, head turning, eyes glowing redly.

'Do you think something's gone wrong?' Sarah whispered.

'I detect no vibrations except for the drive system and random thermal stress activity within the ship's structure.'

'You mean the crew aren't moving? Perhaps they're all asleep.'

They climbed the stairs, Max's broad armoured shoulders just pa.s.sing up the narrow well. The deck above was again dark except for the glow strips and just as silent. There were several doors leading off a short corridor. Max appeared to gaze intently at each one in turn.

'I detect no latent thermal traces, nor any current sources in the compartments beyond.'

'Well, what is there, then?' Sarah wondered softly. She opened the nearest door. The s.p.a.ce beyond was totally unlit.

Max stepped up behind her and twin beams of light shone out from recessed lamps on either side of his head, illuminating the cabin. 'Thanks,' Sarah said absently. From the presence of the inbuilt folding pallets mounted along two walls, it was clearly intended to be crew sleeping quarters. But the pallets had no bedding, and Sarah's fingers drew lines in the film of dust across them. A row of lockers showed similar signs of disuse.

Outside the cabin again, Sarah looked up and down the still deserted corridor and hissed, 'I know these ships have a crew.

I've seen them when they're loading, and I heard them moving about in here just before take-off.'

'There is still the command deck,' Max pointed out.

They ascended the next flight of stairs. The door of the bridge stood before them. There was no sound from beyond.

Sarah turned questioningly to Max.

'I detect no life signs,' he said positively.

She opened the door.

Facing her was an observation screen through which could be seen the diamond points of stars against the velvet backdrop of s.p.a.ce. Banks of control panels filled the rest of the interior, twinkling indicator lights illuminating it with colourful patterns. There were four deep, high-backed seats set before the consoles, presumably for pilot, co-pilot and two engineers. Each one was occupied. They were small grey four-armed beings with skins like old parchment, wearing complex body harnesses of interlocked silver bands. Smooth round heads balanced on long jointed necks. A wide-s.p.a.ced row of small shiny black eyes stared unblinking at the controls in front of them. Nose, mouth and ears were simply dark puckers in their flesh. Even as Sarah gaped at them, all four heads rotated on their strangely articulated necks to face her. Lower pairs of arms reached for grey discs of metal clipped to their belts.

Max pushed her to one side and lunged forward with remarkable speed for his bulk. Both his arms lashed out twice, almost too fast to see, and each time there came a sharp crack.

Then he straightened up and stood back. The aliens slumped over their controls, their heads lolling at broken angles, and lay still.

Sarah caught her breath, licked her dry lips and turned on Max angrily. 'Why did you have to do that? They didn't have a chance.'

'They are listed in my database as Maarcheen: members of the Averon Union. They were reaching for weapons. There was a high probability they would have harmed you.'

'But did you have to kill them so...callously?'

'I am programmed to kill efficiently, but I did not kill these beings, because they were never alive. Remember, I said I could detect no life signs before we entered. Examine them.'

Sarah looked closely at the nearest Maarcheen. Max's blow had torn the flesh of the neck as well as breaking it, but there was no sign of blood, only metal joints, fine tubing and foam padding. 'They looked so realistic,' she exclaimed, then turned back to Max. 'I'm sorry for shouting at you.'

'Why do you apologize, Sarah? I am only a machine.'

'Because,' she said with a weak grin, 'I'm human.' She took another deep breath. 'And I'm also cold and finding it getting stuffy again. These Maarcheen-shaped robots obviously didn't need fresh air, but I do.' She looked at the array of switches and lights. 'It must be one of these.'

'I am programmed for basic ship operations and maintenance,' Max said helpfully.

'Of course, I should have guessed.'

Max studied the engineer's control panels for a moment, then carefully pressed a couple of b.u.t.tons and adjusted a sliding toggle. The vented duct above the control consoles hummed into life, and Sarah felt warm fresh air wash across her face. She took several deep breaths.

'That's better.' She squared her shoulders. 'Now, I suppose we'd better find out where we're going and when we'll get there. Then maybe we can work out why it needs a synthetic crew.'

Max was already studying the pilot's controls. He pressed a few contacts experimentally and observed the results. 'The ship is on auto-pilot,' he stated after a few minutes. 'The controls are locked. Unless we discover the command override code for the computer, we cannot change course.'

'But can you at least tell where we're going?'

'The destination and flight duration are not given in standard coordinates, but a coded reference; evidently for reasons of security.'

'Oh, terrific!' Sarah said with feeling. 'Don't know where we're going, don't know how long it's going to take. What about the radio, or whatever it is?'

Max tested it. 'It is a short-range device, suitable for ground to orbit and limited interplanetary communication only. The standard hyperwave emergency beacon is operative, but the signal would be broadcast. There is no certainty who would respond to it.'

'The only response we'd get at the moment would be from Averon. We'd better wait until we're further away before '

Lights flickered across the control panel, there was a hum of power from deep within the ship and the stars through the viewport blurred and shivered then changed colour. The s.p.a.ce between them rippled and filled with glowing misty streamers.

Sarah felt her stomach turn over and clasped at the back of a control chair for support.

'What was that?' she gasped.

'We have entered hypers.p.a.ce. It is logical to a.s.sume our destination lies beyond the Averon system.'