Final Battle (13 page)

Other vice governors nodded. This was good. I hoped.

“Furthermore,” Michaels said, “I would like to draw your attention to the incident in Arizona.”

Yes. Arizona. Where Cannon's commando group had been able to succeed in the relatively easy task of rescuing all the other kids outside the fortress.

“There,” Michaels continued, “we have another example of the decisions made by adults that impact these children. From what I understand, the sergeant realized it was wrong to hold them captive and arranged to release them to a waiting rescue group.”

Ha
, I thought. The sergeant there just didn't want to let people know he thought he'd been haunted by a terrible singer and an old friend named Normie. But I would keep this secret.

“What are you saying?” Armitage asked.

Michaels answered. “Let's switch briefly to some more video I've asked to be made ready for this meeting.”

The lights lowered. And there I was. Actually, there my robot was. Speaking to Ms. Borris in the interview.

“If there were 200 of you orbiting in space and all 200 of you controlled armed robots down here on Earth, wouldn't you be perfect soldiers? Don't you see potential danger in that?” she queried.

“Who would build the 200 armed robots? Who would put them in place?” I responded.

“I suppose it would be military people.”

“Then maybe you should ask them those questions.”

Immediately the lights brightened.

“It seems to me,” Michaels said, “that this young man makes an excellent point. And let's not overlook the fact that he made it through the voice of a robot. It is still a human mind behind the robot. As he and the others grow older, they will still make decisions with their human minds. The robots are simply tools, like any other tools.”

He paused. “And, yes, they can be weapons. Just as a simple kitchen knife can be used to cut bread or attack another person. My first point is this: there is nothing good or bad about the robots themselves. The issue we face is a much larger one. Controlling the intent of the people in power. And the events of the last few weeks, including the assassination attempt at the Summit of Governors, show that our children seem much more capable of doing what is right than some of those in power. More importantly, the power that the robots give them has allowed them to stop the very abuse the adults attempted.”

Silence greeted that.

“My biggest concern,” Michaels said, “is the possible damage to the children. They had no choice when they were operated on. Yet the operation is not possible on humans old enough to make the choice. Which means we must make a clear choice. Impose a worldwide ban on robot control and stop this technology or—”

“That would only drive it underground,” Armitage objected. “Where only those with the power to abuse will have children who control robots. And I think we all know who I'm talking about.”

Michaels smiled. “Exactly. Or we continue with robot control openly and embrace all the good that can come of it, while yet protecting ourselves and these children against the misuse of their persons and the technology. We need not look any further than the nuclear-plant incident to see how much this can help mankind. And then, of course, there is the Mars Project.”

“I protest!” Vice Governor Calvin said sternly. “Look at the young man in front of you. He is in a wheelchair. This was inflicted upon him without his consenting to the risk.”

Michaels smiled again, calmly. “I agree. What I was going to propose is that every child who receives the operation is given the choice, when old enough, to continue with robot control or leave it. No child shall ever be forced to control robots.”

“That is all very good,” Calvin persisted, “but it doesn't address those children who suffer damage during surgery. If Tyce never wanted to control a robot again, he cannot go back to a normal life.”

“Excellent point,” Michaels countered. “I will address it two ways. First, his was the pioneer operation. Not only that, but it was done on Mars, without the proper equipment in case of an emergency. Since then, no other child has suffered damage. And second—” he paused and looked directly at me— “if damage is done to a child, all the resources available to us shall be used to help that individual child.”

I wasn't sure I understood.

“What I propose is this,” Michaels said to the others. “We form a set of guidelines that allow robot control to be used ethically and fairly. And guidelines that protect the welfare of the children involved in it. How many vote yes?”

All hands went up. Some slowly. Some quickly. But all went up.

“My second proposal, then, is part of the first. No matter what the cost to us, we undo the harm that has been done to Tyce Sanders. And in the future to any other children.”

My heart began to pound. Had I understood him correctly? But it couldn't be. There was no way the harm done to me could be reversed. I turned to look at my dad and was surprised to see tears in his eyes.

“Gentlemen,” Michaels said to the rest of the chamber, “I have consulted extensively with medical experts over the last day. They tell me a successful operation on Tyce Sanders is possible. It will be difficult and very expensive, but it's possible. If we vote to allocate funds, Tyce Sanders may someday soon be able to walk.”

Walk?

This time, all hands went up instantly.

Walk?

I finally understood.

Walk!

CHAPTER 25

I was interrupted by a knock on the door. Dad had left a half hour ago to talk with Ms. Borris and the general. “Come on in.” I had nothing to be afraid of now. Like there was any reason to lock your door at a military base anyway.

Ashley stepped in and quietly closed the door. She slumped into the chair next to me and kicked off her shoes. “Wow, am I tired.”

That was the understatement of the world. “Yeah, me too.”

“You know,” she said softly, “it was nice—for at least a few hours—to be part of a real family … even if it seemed like it was difficult to fit in with those two who claimed to be my parents.”

I nodded. It had taken a long time for me to feel like I knew my dad and that he was part of our family. Especially since over the years he had spent so much time away from us as a space pilot and …

My head still spun over Ms. Borris's words—that Dad was actually an agent for the U.S. military, fighting against the Terratakers. Boy, did we have a lot to talk about when he got back to the room. Some of the little things that had happened since we landed on Earth were now starting to make sense. It had all been a setup to protect Dad from being revealed as an agent within the U.S. division of the Combat Force.

I had so many questions. I yawned. If I could stay awake until he got back to the room that is …

“Tyce,” Ashley jumped in, “are you really going to do it? think about having the operation where you could walk again?”

I was quiet for a couple of minutes. Finally I said the only thing I could. “I don't know. If it means I might lose the ability to control robots …”

“It's okay if you don't want to talk about it now,” Ashley said quickly, with her eyes on the floor. “But I just wanted you to know that whatever you decide is okay with me.”

With those few words she got up, picked up her shoes, and dangled them in her hands as she walked toward the door. “And, Tyce?” she said just before she stepped into the hallway. “You're the closest person to family I'll ever have.”

Then, with the glitter of a tear in her eye and a flash of her silver cross earring, Ashley was gone.

I sat motionless, thinking and fingering the other silver cross she'd given me as a gift a long time ago, when she thought we might have to say good-bye for a long time. Then, slowly, my hands moved back to the keyboard.

I stopped keyboarding and let other questions flood into my mind… . What about Dr. Jordan and Luke Daab? They hadn't yet been located. Had they given up fighting for the Terratakers?

And the question that meant the most for the Earth's future: Would the theory of the carbon-dioxide generators speed along an atmosphere for Mars? Could it become inhabitable for humans outside the dome?

I sighed. All of these questions certainly weren't helping me to fall asleep.

Just then the door opened again. It was Dad, looking exhausted but happy. His tie hung crookedly against his shirt, which was open at the neck. I'd long ago shed my ethics committee attire for a comfortable Combat Force jumpsuit I'd found in the closet of our room.

“Information on the Moon pod was just released to the public,” Dad said. “And Chad, the general's son, is supposedly among the kids who will soon be shuttled to Earth. We're still waiting to see if the supreme governor's grandson comes up on the list too. He was kidnapped about the same time as Chad.”

“Did you have a chance to ask Cannon about the helicopter pilot?”

Dad nodded. “We can talk more about that later. But remember the kind of pressure that was being put on Cannon. His own son was a hostage in the pod.”

“Big pressure,” I agreed.

“And remember that all of this has hinged on world public opinion. Cannon knew if the media finally exposed all of this, his son would be safe. But Cannon couldn't betray the military faction that wanted everything kept secret.”

“With you so far. But that doesn't explain the helicopter pilot who tried to kill us, then shows up later in his office.”

“The pilot didn't try to kill you. At Cannon's instructions, he made it look that way. Cannon was ready to take over the controls.”

I didn't get it. “Cannon wanted it that way?”

“Remember the bomb in your wheelchair and that last-minute rescue? Ever wonder how they knew about the bomb? Cannon put it there. He set the whole thing up. He had to.”

“Because … ?”

“It began to shift public opinion. He knew the hidden Terratakers in the Combat Force would have no choice but to do everything possible to protect you. In short, he disarmed them, knowing they would have liked you out of the way.”

I let out a deep breath. “But he couldn't ever tell me in case the listening devices were nearby.”

“Exactly.” Dad walked over to me and put a hand on my shoulder. “Tyce, I'm really proud of you. For going ahead with the mission to help the kids, even without me. For everything you're doing with the robots. For appearing before the ethics committee …”

He tousled my hair. Less than a year ago, when I didn't like him very much, I would have hated that. Now I didn't mind.

“Thanks, Dad,” I said. Then I grinned. “Don't you think it's about time to do what I told the robots in the tantalum mine? ‘Time to go home'?”

“You bet,” he said enthusiastically.

It
was
time. Time for us to go back to our
real
home. A place with a butterscotch sky and blue sun.

Mars.

And I couldn't wait… .