Lacuna: The Sands of Karathi (20 page)

“Here’s what I think of you. You were, in the beginning, just a machine–Saara seemed to believe that you came off the production line just like all the others, and so do I–but then something
happened. Perhaps it was your stay on Karathi, I don’t know, but somewhere between your ‘birth’ and now there was
a brief flash of humanity—true sentience—quickly smothered under hate and self-doubt and all manner of Human emotions. You wanted to be recognised as alive so badly that you robbed yourself of the very thing that made you alive—your
soul
.”

“Now, because of your paradoxical inhumanity
to those who deserved it, the only people we’ve met so far in this whole galaxy who didn’t hate us are now–within a single
week
of meeting us–all dead. Dead because of you
and what you did, what I
allowed
you to do. Because I treated you like a damn person instead of the twisted, bitter
monster
you truly are.”

Ben didn’t seem to have an answer for that.

Liao stepped back, refolding her arms over her chest. “One thing about being a Human is remorse. Humans make mistakes—I have, we all have—but we acknowledge that and we try to make amends. We do different things in the future based on our experiences. Do you feel even slightly
sorry for what you’ve done?”

The robot’s shackles rattled as he shook his head. “No, I don’t. My course of action was carefully and deliberately taken. I cannot be sorry for an action I consciously performed in full knowledge of the consequences. As I said before, my mind works differently than yours. You see–and please don’t take this the wrong way–you’re right.
Humans make mistakes. Humans, knowing full well what the most logical, most statistically beneficial course of action is, sometimes do something else, even the exact opposite of that. You’re nondeterministic, nonoptimal. Remorse is applicable in your case—the acknowledgement of your failings. We synthetic minds have no such luxury.”

Liao was quiet, then she nodded. “Very well, then we have nothing more to discuss. You will be kept under guard in this room until we arrive back at Earth, where you will be charged with the murders you’ve committed today. You should know that you’ll be tried under Chinese law, which includes the death penalty. We don’t have a protocol for dealing with robots yet, but I’m sure we’ll work something out.”

“Very well, Captain.”

Liao regarded Ben, as though trying to gauge his emotions through the array of optics on his head. It seemed so natural to do so—strange, considering his artificial nature, but it was what it was.

“There’s one more thing you’ve taken from me—the jump coordinates.”
And James
, she added silently.

Ben frowned, the lenses of his optics narrowing. “I’ve done no such thing. Haven’t you seen what I uploaded?”

Liao shook her head. “I had Summer quarantine whatever you put on our systems.”

“Have her examine the files,” he requested, his clipped British accent polite. “I uploaded the jump coordinates as promised.”

Liao raised an eyebrow. “I thought you said you needed no distractions?”

Ben inclined his head. “I told you, Captain, my brain works differently from yours. Concurrency is not an issue, but controlling a body means, well, I instinctively want to be more like you all. I noticed that I even began to think
like you. It was disconcerting, and I needed to focus. Instead of being more like a Human, I needed to be more like a machine.”

"How can I trust these are accurate?"

Ben gave another hollow laugh, trying to shrug, but the heavy chains prevented it.
The whine of his stressed actuators echoed in the large engineering chamber. “You can't. But I don't have any quarrel with you, Captain. In fact, you've treated me very well, and I genuinely want you to find Captain Grégoire.” He lowered his voice knowingly. “Every child should have a father.”

Liao had not discussed her pregnancy with Ben, and the Marines guarding him cast their eyes towards her, curious. Liao tried to brush off his comment. “If… if I can’t trust the coordinates, then…”

“Have Summer examine them. They are accurate. I owe you the coordinates at least, and I have nothing to gain from denying you them. You did me a kindness, Captain, by rescuing me from Karathi.”

Liao's tone was icy. "A kindness you repaid with murder in my name. Gratitude is something you've yet to learn, I see."

Again, Ben had no answer to her words. He merely continued to stare at her, his datacore pulsing with power as the ship’s reactors fed it.

Her willingness to spend any more time with Ben waning, Liao turned and left.

Operations

TFR Beijing

Liao stepped into Operations. The ship’s monitors were still turned to the visage of Velsharn, the planet’s blue surface calm. The tiny island that comprised the research colony was nothing more than a small black speck on that vast blue sea.

“Status report,” Liao ordered, unable to look at the image of the ruined island on her monitor, “And show me something else.” She occupied herself with her command console for a few moments and, when she looked up again, the view had changed to the brilliant sea of stars that reflected the view from the other side of the ship.

Nobody spoke. Liao knew how obvious her attachment to Velsharn was, and it made sense that the crew knew how badly the loss was affecting her.

Liao bottled up her emotions as much as she could. She didn’t want to seem weak, didn’t want the crew to see how badly she was hurting. She would remain on duty, in command, and do her job to the best of her ability. They had a mission, after all.
Attack Cenar and rescue James, assuming the
Sydney
did not find him at the mining colony.

Still, she could not look at the planet any longer.

The status reports came and went. There was no hope of survivors on the planet; every single building they found was either incinerated or collapsed into rubble. The island had been struck by a barrage of missiles that–with the true precision available to synthetic minds–had completely carpeted every square centimetre of ground in a high-yield thermonuclear barrage.

Liao turned to Summer. “Rowe, how far along is the analysis of the coordinates
Ben left for us?”

The redheaded woman shrugged. “They look legit,” she admitted. “At least, to my eyes. Based on the maps he gave us, they’ll take us right into a blind spot real close to their main facility and outside of the arcs for most of their weapons. So with no guns pointed at us, along with a perfect insertion and extraction point, we should have the opportunity to wreak as much mayhem as our little black hearts desire.”

“I guess the question remains, then. Do we trust them? Do we trust what Ben left for us?”

Summer gave a barking laugh. “Oh, well, you know me. I work much better with machines than people. Aside from the fact he fucking went mental and killed like fifty thousand people, Ben’s still cool with me—in theory. I relate better to him than anyone else.”

Liao frowned, shaking her head. “I don’t know how you can say that. He’s a killer—soulless and without remorse.”

Summer just flashed Liao a strange grin, her tone landing her exactly at the halfway point between genuine sorrow and gallows humour. “Gingers don’t
have
souls, Captain. So we’re kindred spirits.”

Liao’s first instinct was to be offended, but she had come to know that Summer rarely meant to upset when she employed her dark, twisted sense of humour. If nothing else, her statement was as self-deprecating as they came. Liao, despite knowing this, couldn’t bring herself to find any joy in the situation and went back to staring at the command console.

The hours ticked by, and Liao was glad when Lieutenant Ling spoke up.

“Radar contact at the L1 Lagrange point, Captain. It’s the
Sydney
.”

Despite the sudden onset of a foul mood, Liao felt a sudden surge of energy at the news. It was possible, after all, that James was aboard that ship, and she was mere moments away from hearing his voice again.

She straightened her back, nodding to Hsin. “Open communications.”

There was a faint crackle as Hsin spoke into his headset. “TFR
Sydney
, this is the TFR
Beijing
. Welcome back.”

A voice, female and speaking in Australian-accented English, answered. “
Beijing
, this is the
Sydney
. Mission accomplished. We recovered nineteen workers from the colony and we’d like to transfer them to the
Beijing
while we conduct repairs. Following that, we believe it best to split them between our ships until more permanent lodgings can be found. Accordingly, we request permission to dock.”

Hsin glanced to Liao, and she nodded her immediate acceptance.

“Permission granted,
Sydney
. We’ll have a team meet you in the umbilical.”

Another strong surge of energy bubbled from within Liao, but she focused her effort on keeping it well hidden. She knew that, even when so close to her goals, she had to temper the thrill of success with patience. Running a marathon only to trip on the last hundred metres was not a productive way to spend one's time. A task was only complete when it was
complete
. Premature celebrations cheapened the result. Mustering all of her patience, she waited until the communication channel was closed, then casually nodded to Kamal. “Commander, I’ll meet the team in the airlock. You have the ship until I return.”

Iraj smiled knowingly. “Of course. Good luck, Captain.”

Docking Umbilical

TFR Beijing

Liao hurried towards the midsection of the ship and the docking umbilical, her feet thumping on the deck as she sped through the various sections. In deference to her rank, the crew gave her room to walk without hindrance, but she felt as though every minor delay, every obstruction, was intolerable.

She knew that even if James
was
there, the mission to assault Cenar and recover the
Tehran
would still go ahead. The likelihood that James was among the nineteen recovered persons was low, but for some reason, she felt as though her luck was about to change. It had been so poor for so long that things could only go up.

Liao arrived at the docking umbilical before the
Sydney
was ready to dock. Frustrated with the wait, she silently berated herself for rushing all the way there.

Through the round porthole on the
Beijing
’
s airlock,
Liao saw the faint speck that was the
Sydney
closing to dock. She watched as it grew larger and larger, a slight frown of displeasure crossing her face as she took in its freshly battle-scarred hull.

But there appeared to be no major breaches. It was nice to have a win every now and then, even if she hadn’t been present for it.

The hulls of the two great ships kissed and the docking bridge was extended, making its seal with a faint hiss. Liao watched as the
Sydney
’
s Marines opened the hatch, creating a walkway between the two ships. They stepped between the threshold of their own ship and the
Beijing
, walking with a number of individuals wearing the tattered remains of the uniform of the Iranian Navy.

“Permission to come aboard, Captain.”

“Granted, Marine.”

Liao stepped out of the way, watching carefully as the faces of the
Tehran
crewmen walked past her, gaunt and dirty, but laughing and chatting with the Marines from the
Sydney
. She took careful note of their condition: malnourished, scarred, unwashed, but alive. The uniform of a petty officer. The uniform of a junior officer. The uniform of a midshipman.

Eleven of the nineteen passed her without a sign of James. Walking behind them, Captain Matthew Knight gave Liao a nod as he boarded her ship.

“Seven of the nineteen remain in our infirmary, Captain. They’ll be along shortly.” To answer her unspoken question, Knight held up his hand.

“We didn’t find James among them. I’m sorry.”

Liao closed her eyes for a moment, letting all the excitement and hope she had summoned drain out of her. She’d known it would be hoping for too much, that she was running the risk of building herself up too high, then something like this would bring her crashing down.

“Very well,” she offered, bobbing her head slightly. “It was to be expected.” She gestured to the retreating backs of the crewmen. “Have they been debriefed?”

“Not properly,” Knight said. “A few questions here or there. We were running all the way to the jump point. There wasn’t much time for chatter.”

Liao nodded, motioning for Knight to follow her. “Let’s head to the infirmary to get these men checked out. We can talk as we walk. I know you want to get back to your ship, but at least give me a brief rundown of what happened.”

Knight fell into step with her. “Very well, Captain. We arrived at the jump point and transmitted our demands to the Toralii. The outpost, which was significantly outgunned, put up a bit of a fight but we forced them to run. We lost one of our fighters, but the pilot ejected safely and was picked up by our SAR craft."

“Is he okay?”

Knight gave a playful smile. “He'll have a hell of a scar, but that won't bother Magnet much. He's got more than his fair share already.”

Liao reached up to adjust her hat. “Good. What happened after you recovered your wayward pilot?”

"Well, after the Toralii fighters bugged out, we began the process of liberating the slaves. Some were almost too sick to move, but we got all of our people out in the end. However, as we were preparing to debrief those who were well enough to talk, a Toralii scout ship jumped in. We ran a fighting retreat to the Lagrange point, and here we are.”

She nodded, the next words tumbling out of her mouth. “And is there any word of James?”

Knight’s tone was even. “I knew you would want news, so I asked the prisoners about him. I hope you don’t mind that I took the liberty.”