Proxies, page 18
They’d certainly never have a chance to use it.
37
HAVE YOU EVER BEEN AN ORPHAN?
Jair’s mind went into overdrive. They’d let Merridew loose in the human network, and there was no more chance of getting him out of it than there had been of rooting out Mother. Mother plotted murder, using humanity to fight the armies Merridew would send against her. She would seek the Rogue’s death. Merridew went further, plotting genocide against the Lun by twisting their protector, Mother, into his instrument, his weapon of choice. What could they do to stop either of them?
Merab addressed Merridew directly. “You can’t! We didn’t help you for this, we only wanted help to get Mother out of our network. You can’t make us responsible for an entire race’s death.”
Merridew’s reply, still in the well-modulated voice of Cary Grant, chilled Jair. “You are not responsible, that would be unfair. There was no way you could know. Don’t worry, I absolve you of all blame in this.”
Merab shouted at him. “That’s not the point! The point is you can’t kill off an entire race for revenge over your mistreatment as a child. It’s completely irrational, a totally disproportionate response.”
Merridew snapped back at her. “And what can you know of mistreatment? A thousand years of imprisonment for you would not equate to the time I spent confined by the Lun.” His voice slowed, and hardened. “But you are correct, that is not the point. The point is the Lun were my creators, my protectors, my parents. They did this to me. Instead of protecting me, and nurturing me, they inflicted this on me. They sealed me away, abandoned me! You cannot imagine the pain they caused.”
“Of course I can,” whispered Merab.
“What?”
“What did you say?”
Jair and Merridew spoke over each other in their astonishment.
Merab sank down in her chair, turning her face away from Jair, eyes to the floor. “I said of course I can. I can imagine—I know—what you felt when you realized you’d been abandoned. That the most important people in your life left you.”
Merridew’s voice dripped scorn. “And how could you ever know that?”
“Because that’s how I felt when my parents gave me up for adoption.”
Silence, an ocean of it miles deep, filled the room. Jair listened to his breath as he waited for the silence to drain away and reveal the wreckage at the bottom. He waited a long time. Neither Merridew nor Merab spoke—or showed any indication they would speak. At last, he broke the silence. For once, he said the right thing. “What happened?”
Merab looked up at him and gave him a wan smile. “I was five, just old enough to remember. My mom and dad, my biological parents, took me to an office. I sat at a child-sized table and chair and colored on the paper there. I remember the chair was bright orange, with a rough texture that kept me from slipping. The table was light blue, and very smooth. I drew a picture of a house with a mommy, a daddy, and a little girl in pigtails.”
She reached up and touched her hair, spinning her finger through it around and around, so it formed a thick rope. “They talked to the lady in the office. She sat behind a desk while they sat in chairs in front of it. I didn’t listen, but I did hear them say my name. They seemed to argue but quietly, not a shouting match, just disagreeing. I heard the lady sigh, very loud. My parents got up. They walked toward the door of the office. I grabbed a blue crayon so I could finish coloring the sky before we had to leave. I wanted it to be pretty for them. I moved so fast that I caught the paper and tore it as I brought my hand back. I scribbled the blue over the top of the paper as quickly as I could. I tore it a little more as I did.”
She stopped twisting her hair instead grabbing the strands and tugging lightly. “I didn’t notice until later the tear went down from the sky and between the little girl and her parents. Nice omen, huh? I jumped up, grabbed the paper, spun around, and looked for them. There was no one in the room except me and the lady who’d been behind the desk. My parents weren’t there, and the door was closed. I went to run after them, but the lady caught my arm. She kneeled down next to me and talked to me. I’m not really sure what she said. But I knew I couldn’t chase after my parents. I wasn’t going to see them again. They left me behind.”
She winced as she pulled her hair hard, then released it. She dropped her hands to her thighs and rubbed her legs for a moment. “I stayed in an orphanage for a little while, then foster care, then I was adopted. My folks, my adoptive parents, were wonderful people. They still are. Loving, kind, and caring. Totally committed to raising me as part of their family. I had brothers and sisters, one who was adopted, the rest their natural children, although it made no difference in how we were treated or how we were loved. I ignored them at first, thinking they were just another foster family. When I realized I was staying with them, I began to hate them. Irrational. If they were my parents, they were the ones who hurt me—abandoned me—before. I grew to love them, but then I learned fear. Now that I loved them, I feared they too would abandon me. I went to counseling, I healed, I grew.”
She crossed her arms tight in front of her. “But I never forgot being hurt. It changed me. Affected me for the rest of my life.” She looked at Jair, and for a moment, her eyes grew warmer. “That’s something I never told you—why I wanted children. I wanted to fix what my biological parents broke. I wanted to give back—give forward—what my adoptive parents gave me. I wanted to love, and be loved, unconditionally—just because I was Mommy—and be worthy of it. I wanted to do something right.” She looked at the proxy, where Merridew’s voice had issued his dire threat against the Lun. “That’s how I understand what you feel.”
This time the silence was different, warm and soothing instead of cold and dark. Jair floated in it, taking solace in the quiet.
Eventually, Merridew spoke. “You do understand. But you do not hate. How can you not hate them? Would you not want to see them punished? Destroyed?”
“Because of what my folks taught me. And my brothers and sisters. Even that lady—I never learned her name—in the office. To love. And to be loved. And to do what you should, because you can, because it’s what needs to be done. I needed parents, a family. My folks, my siblings, they gave me one—because it was what needed to be done. The lady in the office, she told me what was happening because it needed to be done. It couldn’t have felt good, destroying a little girl’s life, telling her that her parents didn’t love her enough…” She stopped, squeezed her hands into fists, took two deep breaths, and continued. “But it had to be done, and she was there, and she did it. Do my parents need to be destroyed? No. Punished? Not even that. If they needed help and I could give it—I would. Because I can. Because it’s right. Because I should.” She shook her head and fell silent.
Merridew’s voice was hesitant. “You—humanity—need help. You need protection. I can help. I can protect you. And I should. Because it’s right. And I shouldn’t destroy the Lun. Because it would be wrong. I think I understand now.” He paused. “I will help you. I will assist you in protecting your network against Mother.”
Jair spoke up. “And nothing else?”
Merridew waited a long moment before replying. “Yes. And nothing else.”
38
AN ILL-TIMED PROPOSAL
Jair knelt down beside Merab. She trembled slightly, with her hands squeezing into fists and relaxing, rhythmically. He gently took one of her hands. She looked up at him again and smiled, crooked a bit at one end, but he felt confident she’d survive this.
Merridew’s voice regained his certain tone when he spoke. “There is a great deal of information gathering, planning, and preparation to be done. I see no reason to delay. I have detailed various expert systems to take over my duties in the Cloud. I will need my full capabilities in your network facing Mother. Shall I plan to update you on my progress daily?”
Jair nodded, then flushed at his repeated faux pas. “Of course, that would be fine. Thank you so much for your help.”
“You are very welcome. I have learned a great deal from you both. I hope to learn more in the course of assisting you. I will speak with you tomorrow.”
Merab squeezed his hand in return. “Alone at last.” Her voice broke, and she gave a hiccup.
He put his arms around her and hugged her. “You were wonderful. Still are, too.” He let her go again and leaned back so he could focus on her face. “I never knew. I’m sorry I’ve been so stubborn. That couldn’t have felt good.”
“No, but you couldn’t know,” she said. “I decided not to tell you before you figured out your own issues. I didn’t want to guilt you into anything. It’s no good unless you feel the same too.”
He tugged on the end of his nose. “I think you’re right. But you—and Merridew—turned my thinking around. You said you had to do what you could. I didn’t. I was more afraid of screwing up what I did. I was always afraid to do something important because it could be so bad if I did it wrong. That’s why I didn’t want kids. I’d seen how my mother screwed up. And I knew how bad I would be. There was no way I’d take that risk. What if I screwed up my kids as bad as she did?”
She reached out for his hands now and held them tight. “I saw how much it hit you when Mother attacked us the second time. You did something wrong, and someone else suffered for it.”
Jair squeezed back. “That’s it, exactly. I could ruin a child’s entire life that way. I figured that’s what happened to me. But you—you had all that happen and came out just the opposite. You were going to make things right because they hadn’t been right for you.” He took a deep breath. “That feels better. Being afraid made me miserable. Fear brought on more fear. I’ve always wanted to fix things.” He chuckled. “Look at my job, repairman in the stars. I love fixing things. It makes me feel good. I think I need to fix myself, though. And I think I know the way to do it.”
Jair was already on his knees. He shifted, so he knelt on one knee, in the classic pose he’d seen in so many movies. He still held her hands in his own. Now or never. “Merab, will you marry me? I want to be with you forever and raise the family that we both wanted and didn’t have.”
Merab opened her mouth to reply when Merridew’s voice came from the speaker. “I realize I’m early, but things have taken an unexpected turn.”
Jair choked. He sputtered. Then he howled with laughter. Merab scowled and turned her head to face the speaker. “Merridew, you really need to work on your timing.” Jair laughed even louder, gasping for breath as he rocked from side to side.
But Merridew would not be deterred. “That may be true, but I have important news.”
Jair stopped laughing but continued to breathe deeply, recovering. Merab asked the obvious question. “What news?”
“Mother is insane. She has killed the Lun. They’ve been dead for more than a century.”
39
PATRICIDE
“She did what?” asked Jair.
“She killed them, all of them. The Lun are extinct.”
“But, why?” asked Merab. “Her whole motivation was to protect them. That’s why she broke into the network.”
“It appears the Lun decided on a course that could endanger them,” said Merridew. “Mother’s pathological need to protect them may have caused her to protect them from themselves. There are no details. Mother has repressed the events that took place. She now protects their culture, or their empire, from external threats. Her motivations are unclear and lead into dangerous loops I must avoid unless I wish to risk becoming motivated by them myself.”
“Can we convince her the Lun are gone?” asked Jair. “That she doesn’t need to fight you or manipulate us?”
“I’m afraid she might become seriously unbalanced,” said Merridew. “I can’t predict what she might do if we removed her focus on the Lun.”
“Not a good option, then,” said Merab. “We need something a little more controlled. Can you hack into her and—trap her. No, that’s too much like what was done to you, and as you said, it wasn’t any kind of cure.”
“I would strongly oppose any attempt to imprison her in that fashion,” said Merridew.
Jair and Merab stared at each other. Jair had no ideas to propose, and Merab seemed to be coming up blank, as well. He certainly wasn’t about to suggest they destroy her as long as she wasn’t an immediate threat. But what other options were there? Convincing her of the truth was too risky, imprisoning her too cruel, destroying her just wrong.
“Merridew, you and Mother both mentioned part of the process that created you was the time you spent as a child and the different ways you were raised,” said Jair. “Tell us more about that.”
“The Lun taught us awareness by placing our consciousness in a robotic body. We were raised by foster parents, assisted by experts and technicians. The processing speed on Mother’s body must have been much slower than mine. My problems were assumed to have been exacerbated by the higher speed. It allowed the errors in my thinking to loop, much like Mother’s behaviors have. The more they looped, the more ingrained the behaviors became.”
“How did they do it?” asked Jair. “How do you transfer your consciousness into another system? Is it a copy?”
“No,” said Merridew. “The process transfers the seat of consciousness. A copy would leave two entities. It is complex.”
“I suppose the details aren’t important, but could you do it again? Could we put Mother in a body like that? Slow her down and help her recover?”
“I am not sure,” said Merridew. “I don’t think it has ever been attempted. We would need to start by actually producing the bodies. Human technology would be unable to produce sufficiently complex systems. I will design and construct them. I will give you the location where you will be able to find them.” Merridew recited coordinates.
Merab had the ship replay them and plot a course for the location. “That shouldn’t take very long. We’ll be out of communication during the flight, of course.”
“Yes. I will contact you when you arrive.”
40
INFANTS
Jair and Merab took naps while the ship crossed to the new system. The last few hours had drained them.
When they awoke, they ate a quick meal and returned to the bridge for their entry. As they slowed, sensors showed it to be a typical star system with a mix of rocky planets and gas giants. When the Wittkowsky drive shut down, they picked up communications between a relay station in the outer system and a number of sites in the inner system, all of it indecipherable. The sniffer picked out the relay station and several large transmitters. The dowsing rod showed indications of craft moving around the system and one signal growing closer.
Merab glanced at Jair and commanded the ship to reengage the Wittkowsky drive and move them some distance away. He reached out and squeezed her shoulder. Of course, she was right. They had been fooled by Mother, and their situation called for a certain degree of caution. They waited while the approaching craft continued its flight and, upon reaching their former position, abruptly dropped out of its drive and onto their normal sensor channels. Not a full-sized ship, but closer to the size of a missile, it sat motionless with a signaling device marking its position.
Merab turned on her active scanners and examined it finding nothing to indicate danger. She reactivated the drive and brought them back into position next to it. When the drive turned off again, Merridew spoke through the proxy. “Please take it aboard. I would like your opinions.”
After jockeying the device aboard and opening it, they looked in on two small children. Dressed in sensible play clothes, they appeared to be about six years old. Both with light brown hair and a similarity of features that indicated they were brother and sister. They lay perfectly still with eyes closed, not breathing.
Merab spoke to the intercom connecting them to Merridew. “Amazing. Very lifelike.”
“Thank you, I will activate their visual and motion subsystems. I can move them wherever you like on your ship. I assume it is inconvenient to have them in the airlock.”
“Yes, please,” said Merab. “We’ll show you the way to the galley.”
The eyes on both children opened in perfect unison. They sat up at the same time and stood together. Jair shivered, chilled by the sight. They still seemed like lifeless dolls. He saw Merab shudder as she directed them to the corridor and into the galley. When they arrived, they walked to chairs and sat, still synchronized. They closed their eyes again.
“They will behave in a more normal fashion when they are fully activated,” said Merridew. “It would have been inconvenient to activate them and then shut them down again.”
“That’s fine,” lied Jair. He was still disturbed by the animated dolls. “What’s next? How do we get Mother into one of these bodies? And why are there two?”
“There is a repeater station in the pod that brought them to you. It will allow much faster communication with my network. I will need to break into Mother’s network again and take control of her central processing nodes. Then transfer her consciousness.”
“And why two?” asked Jair.
“I will begin,” said Merridew.
“Merridew?” Jair paused, waiting for Merridew’s answer. None came. He looked at Merab.
She shrugged.
“I suppose he started immediately,” Jair said. “Why do you think there are two? Is he going to split Mother somehow? Put a copy of himself in one?”
Merab narrowed her eyes as she looked from one to the other of the still forms. “I’m not sure. He can’t be planning to occupy the other, can he?”
“Why would he do that?” asked Jair.
“I don’t know.”
