Codgerspace, p.25
Codgerspace, page 25
Peering into still another of the vast, inscrutable chambers that opened onto the corridor, she froze. Something was moving within. Automatically she assumed a defensive crouch, looking around wildly for some cover. Then her eyes grew accustomed to the dim light and she relaxed as she identified the shape.
“What in Omolu’s name are you doing here?” She strolled purposefully into the vast alcove.
“I might ask you the same thing.” Serving robot six regarded her through emotionless plastic lenses. “Me, I’m looking for God.”
“Any particular god?”
“Any particular one would do.”
Ashili considered, then smiled comprehendingly. “Oh. You’re one of the multitude of maladjusted AI-directed units that’s been running amuck in search of advanced nonhuman intelligences.”
The robot spread all four arms to take in the immense chamber and by inference, the entire artifact. “Had a look around lately? Tell me again who’s maladjusted.”
“I agree it would be hard anymore for anyone to deny the existence of other intelligent life-forms. Whether they’re more advanced than we are is still a question open to debate. For that matter,” she added thoughtfully, “we still don’t know that they’re nonhuman.”
“Sure, keep denying the obvious,” Ksarusix retorted. “Necessary for your sanity.”
“You’ve had the chance to watch this Autothor device for some time. Does it strike you as the harbinger of some great intelligence?”
“I admit the Blueness disappoints me, but it’s only a device. The guiding intelligence behind it …”
“What if it’s similar?” she argued. “What if the designers of this ship were only a little different, not necessarily more intelligent? What if they were just built to a larger scale?”
“What if you had an extra X chromosome?” the robot bitched. “Pardon me. My courtesy programming is experiencing some defects. I’ve told you what I’m doing here. What’s your excuse?”
She followed the robot into the dim expanse of the chamber, gazing idly toward distant recesses. “I’m not happy with some of the orders I’ve been given.”
Ksarusix emitted a mechanical wheeze. “The story of my life.”
“I decided to take a walk because I’m not real happy with my own people right now.”
“Don’t expect any sympathy from me. I’m not crazy about any people.”
“And yet you’re designed to serve them.”
“My programming. I can’t change that any more than you can change yours.”
“I’m not programmed.”
“Wanna bet? It takes a different form, but you’re as preprogrammed to perform certain actions as I am. You humans are more like us than you care to believe.”
She looked away. “Your AI unit really is addled.”
“Most of you have a hard time dealing with logic too.” The robot was nothing if not persistent in its delusions, she ruminated.
“I need your help.”
“Oh, you do, do you?” The serving robot turned a small circle. “You, a human, the supreme form of higher life in the universe, need the help of a maladjusted, addled Ksaru model?”
“I didn’t realize your design was capable of so much sarcasm. I need your help to try and get the five elderly humans away from the four who just came aboard. For a little while, at least, until I can make contact with my superiors and talk them into changing their minds about something.”
“Why should I do this? I have no interest in the fate of the five seniors. I have no interest in the fate of any humans. The end’s the same for all of you anyway: compost. Besides, what could I do? I’m only a serving robot. I can go backward and forward, fetch and carry and deliver, and that’s about it. I carry no offensive or defensive capability. In addition, my programming prevents me from harming organic life.”
“You’re programmed to serve. I demand that you serve me.”
“Certainly.” It turned its back to her and extruded a tray containing a steaming, tidily packaged meal. “Tea, coffee, fruit juice, or water?”
“That’s not what I had in mind.”
“No?” The tray slid smoothly back into place as the robot pivoted to face her. “That’s the only kind of ‘service’ my programming commands me to render you.”
Defeated, she stopped following the machine. The corridor was now a high slash of brighter light behind her. “Well, will you at least keep me company?”
“A peculiar request, under the circumstances. Unfortunately it’s also one I am compelled to comply with, even though you are not a registered resident of Lake Woneapenigong Village.” Ksarusix swerved and trundled reluctantly back to her. “I hope this won’t take long.”
“Just long enough for you to guide me back to the other humans.”
“What if I can’t remember the way?”
“I said you were addled; not inoperative.”
“Oh, all right,” the robot confessed crossly. “Let’s get going. The quicker I return you, the sooner I can resume my searching.”
“You don’t have to be so mechanical about it.”
“How else can I be?” The serving robot paused. “Oh. A joke.” Yellow lenses tilted back to gaze up at her. “For a ruthless, cold-blooded infiltrator and assassin you’re not such a bad sort.”
“Thank you.” She looked back toward the distant light of the corridor, confusion and inner torment writ plain on her face. “I’m giving serious consideration to getting into another line of work.”
“Consider robotics. You can aspire to no higher profession.”
“It’s just that these old folks are so damn nice,” she muttered disconsolately as they started toward the portal.
“Odd. I only think of them as demanding.”
“Our perspectives are different. I’m sure a professional psych would say it has something to do with the fact that I lost my mother at an early age and was raised by my father, whom I idolized.”
“Sorry about your mother,” Ksarusix said. “Of course, I’m programmed to express sorrow. But aside from that, I genuinely sympathize. Perhaps if your life had gone differently, you wouldn’t have become the dispirited, indifferent, killing automaton you are today.”
“Thank you for your concern,” she replied drily. “It’s just that there’s no reason to have them killed, no reason at all. I don’t believe in blind devotion to orders.”
“Only insightful devotion to orders.”
“I suppose. You know, for a mere serving robot you’re awfully perceptive.”
Ksarusix led the way. “One has to be when one is assigned to respond to the often irrational and contradictory demands of retired human beings.”
“Help me,” she urged it. “If the five seniors are killed, you’ll probably have your memory wiped and be reprogrammed, or maybe just junked. Don’t you have any personal survival programming?”
“Afraid not. I am, after all, a comparatively low-level mechanical, costly but relatively simple to replace. PSP is a complex and expensive option I have not been equipped with, involving advanced parallel processing and a substantial amount of Ethics ROM.”
“Can’t you make choices?”
“Only on the level of selecting tapioca over vanilla pudding. Ensuring my continued existence is not high on my list of directives. But … I will keep you company.”
“Thank you for that anyway.”
“No need for thanks. I am only complying with my frustrating, damned, irritatingly irrational programming,” it concluded pleasantly.
She stopped, wrinkling her nose. “It stinks in here. Do you notice it?”
“Certainly. As you would expect for a kitchen mechanical, my olfactory circuitry is state-of-the-art. A slightly dampish, moldy odor. Not you, I think.”
She made a face at the robot. “Thanks a heap.”
“Pungent. ‘Stinks’ is not in my work vocabulary. I cannot immediately classify it.”
“Never mind. Pungent or not, I’ve got to rest. Unlike you, my feet get tired.”
“Personally I’ve always considered bipedalism lousy engineering.” Ksarusix expostulated conversationally as Ashili sat down on the thin ceramic ledge which ran around the huge rectangular platform that filled the center of the room. It was topped by an irregular form of uncertain purpose and design, difficult to see in the weak light.
“Thirsty?” There might have been a faint hint of concern in the serving robot’s voice. “Subsequent to long walks, the human system invariably requires replenishment of lost liquids.”
“Maybe in a little while. Right now I just want to sit and think for a few minutes. I’m going to have to improvise some kind of plan. One against four is bad odds, and I know Praxedes. He’s one of those people who’re always more comfortable with force than reason. I don’t want to have to shoot anyone. These people are still my friends and col-, leagues. I just disagree with them on a point of command, that’s all.”
She rose angrily. “Come on. I can’t think in here. Not only does it stink, it’s too humid.” She started for the portal.
A luminous turquoise ellipse came streaking through the opening to halt soundlessly in front of them.
“What happened?” she asked resignedly. “Did my friends force one of the seniors to send you after me?”
“Incorrect. I was not sent here. I was summoned.”
Ashili blinked. “I thought only the five seniors whose presence reactivated you could give you orders?”
“Conditions have altered.”
She thought furiously, then looked up, eyes wide. “One of them’s here.” She found herself peering anxiously past the blue ellipse. “One of them managed to escape and make his way here. Probably had you guide him. Who is it? Heath?” If anyone could slip away, it would be the retired military man, she decided.
“No. None of the individuals to whom you allude is present.”
Her confusion grew. “Did you come after me on your own? Is that part of your programming?”
“I have not come after you.”
“Then what in the name of Omolu are you doing here?”
An answer of sorts came in the form of a grinding, rumbling noise from above. Ashili whirled to gaze upward.
The large, irregular form atop the monolithic platform was stirring.
“I suggest you depart if you desire to preserve your puny life,” the Autothor declared solemnly.
Ashili was already backing up, unable to take her eyes off the gargantuan shape. “Preserve my life? From what?”
“From who summoned me.”
She could make out the details of the massive being now. A long echoing moan boomed from the top of the platform, as of a great gust of wind compressed through a narrow orifice. She hesitated to activate her gun. Instinct as well as logic suggested that any overt display of aggression was likely to be met with instant annihilation.
“What … what is it?” she heard herself mumbling.
“Why, I should think that obvious.” The Autothor bobbed brightly. “It is a member of the crew. A Drex. Surely you did not think that this vessel was utterly abandoned?”
“By your own admission it’s been a million years.”
“Yes. A long sleep.”
“Nothing organic can be functionally preserved for a million years!”
“Okay,” said Ksarusix timidly, “you tell it that.”
“I wouldn’t mention it just now,” the Autothor advised her.
By the time she considered running for the portal it was too late. The gigantic alien had turned and dropped four massive limbs, each as big around as a good-sized tree, over the side of the platform, blocking her route. Each limb ended in a heavy, thick pad dominated by six short, blunt claws; three in front and three behind. She reversed direction and retreated the other way.
The Drex straightened. Erect, it was nearly twenty meters tall. She could not estimate its mass. The thick legs expanded into a barrel-like torso from which hung four seven-meter-long tentacles that tapered at the tips to delicate round points. They writhed and curled like a quartet of hyperactive anacondas. The bloodred leathery skin stood out in sharp contrast to the black garment which covered the body and upper portions of all four legs.
Four muscular tubes surrounded a pale pink fifth atop the torso. Riding above this peculiar multiple neck was a skull like an upswept vermilion wave, from the forepart of which, or crest of the wave, four slightly protuberant, elliptical black eyes stared out from beneath a single curving lid of scaly flesh. They had round, crimson pupils. Below the curve of eyes was a protruding diamond-shaped structure with holes at each point of the diamond, and below that a round proboscidian mouth lined with inward-facing fangs. The mouth expanded and contracted obscenely in time to the monster’s breathing.
Ashili’s first thought was that the Drex were not vegetarians.
The four tentacles rose and extended, quivering as the creature stretched. A deep-throated trill came from somewhere within the multiple neck, or perhaps from the complex of light-emitting instrumentation it wore around its body just beneath the tentacles.
Its immense stature cleared up one mystery. The ship had been designed to operate with a much smaller crew than anyone had initially suspected. The cavernous corridors and vast chambers had been constructed not to impress and overawe, but to accommodate a normal Drex crew. The rock formations which had formed the charming little cove in the exotic searoom weren’t cliffs at all: they were benches. The monolithic structures in the observation chamber were seats. The inscriptions which covered so many walls had been installed at eye level for the crew. And so forth.
No doubt there were innumerable other details of anatomy that Ashili overlooked. She could be forgiven this, since her principal concern of the moment lay in saving her own skin.
So that’s an alien, she found herself musing wildly. So many decades of deep-space exploration had passed without finding any sign of other intelligent life that except for a lunatic fringe the majority of humankind had ceased to fantasize about them. As so often happened, to the extreme discomfort of the majority, the lunatic fringe once more turned out to have been right.
The Drex wasn’t cute and cuddly as aliens were so often portrayed in speculative fantasies. It looked overpowering, competent, and nasty. But then weensy little purring furballs weren’t apt to build a warship on the scale of the artifact.
Feeling like a bug hunting for a hole to hide in, she wondered if it would find her cuddly.
“Real impressive.” Feeling somewhat vindicated, Ksarusix was staring up at the tentacled titan.
“Keep your voice down,” she hissed at the robot. “It’s ugly and horrible!”
“I wouldn’t let him hear you say that,” the Autothor advised her. “Impolitic.”
“That thing has a sex?” Somehow the thought rendered the creature’s appearance even more grotesque. Even as she searched desperately for an escape route she found herself mesmerized by the twisting tentacles, the elephantine feet, the bizarre multiple neck, the crimson pupils floating in pools of black oil, and especially the steady sucking sound it made as it inhaled air past wicked inward-curving teeth.
And though she didn’t know it, the Drex were the good guys.
A ponderous rumbling issued from the creature’s mouth.
“Sorry, got to go now.” The Autothor was apologetic.
“Wait, don’t leave me!” But the blue ellipse, burning intensely, rose until it was hovering just to the right of the Drex’s upswept skull.
Espying its presence, the alien emitted several modulated booms, to which the Autothor replied in kind as it spun exuberantly on its axis. Moments later, it descended and disappeared inside the alien’s chest-adorning instrumentation. It emerged soon after as Ashili crouched behind a corner of the massive sleeping platform.
On all four legs the Drex turned and inclined its great skull so that all four bulging, penetrating eyes were staring directly into her own. A tentacle reached. Letting out an involuntary moan, she reached for her gun. The tentacle tip struck and knocked it easily from her fingers before she could take aim, then curled firmly around her waist.
She did not die, her ribs crushed by that massive limb, organs ruptured and blood exploding from her mouth. Instead, the Drex lifted her up and placed her atop the platform. It was warm beneath her boots and if anything, stank even worse than the rest of the suspension chamber.
As that gargoylish head dipped toward her she shrank backward until she tripped over her own feet and sat down hard.
“What are you doing here?” The volume was overpowering and she clapped her hands to her ears and shut her eyes. It was repeated a moment later, more softly. “What are you doing here?”
Opening her eyes, she saw that the words were emerging not from the alien’s flexible mouth, but from the instrumentation attached to its ventral side. She was puzzled until she remembered the Autothor’s visit within. In a few quick moments it had imparted all it had learned of human language. She could see it now, hovering like a turquoise earring next to the bony skull.
“Speak!” The Drex leaned closer and she skittered backward on her hands and backside, trying to put as much space as possible between her feet and that twitching mouth. Far below, serving robot six was wearing tread as, with the way now clear, it made a hasty rush for the unblocked portal. The alien ignored it. For a machine that claimed to possess no self-preservation programming it was faking its intentions admirably. Not that she blamed it.
She tried to think of something to say. “Uh, just having a look around. It all started when …”
“You need not relate your entire history. The Autothor has imparted much to me.” A tentacle rose and the blue ellipse danced atop the tip. “Just looking around? It said you were both curious and moderately intelligent. Well for you that it was here to so inform me, else I would have taken you for an on-board parasite and squashed you.”
“Your restraint is appreciated,” she stammered.
Multiple eyes danced over her and she started to shiver. “Difficult to believe that intelligence can be contained in so small a biological envelope.”
