Robot Adept (17 page)

He checked the screen for the imminent listings.
 
Ships arrived and departed from and to a dozen planets every hour. There should be somewhere convenient, from which he could alert his father. It was ironic that they had been having so much trouble getting Agape offplanet, while he was doing it on the spur of the moment!

The name leaped out at him from the list: MOEBA.

The very planet!

Mach laughed, internally. He would visit Planet Moeba.

Mach had been on interplanetary flights before; it had been a deliberate part of his education. He understood about the temporary blackout of Feetle (FTL—Faster Than Light) travel and the necessary adjustment of time to synchronize with that of the planet being approached. But he was surprised by the passengers.
 
It seemed that they were all from other planets; Proton had merely been a mail-stop, and he was the only new traveler. One individual resembled a molding green cactus. Another seemed like a living plate of spaghetti with olives for eyes. A third was rounded and furry, with half a dozen whistle-pipes poking out. The others were somewhat stranger.

Mach ran through his geography program, identifying the various species and cultures. They were all legitimate; the surprise was in finding such a varied assortment on a single ship. Their languages were all different, too, and he had no programs for these, so could not communicate.

He did have a program for Moebite, because of his association with Agape. He had never used it, but he automatically set up for likely eventualities. He had thought that Bane might find it useful; in the rush of events, he had neglected to inform his other self. How fortunate he had it now!

That jogged a little alarm circuit. His acquisition of that program was on record, which meant that Tan must know about it. Tan would not have known that it was for Bane; he would have thought it was for Mach him self. Tan might have concluded that Mach planned to go to Moeba at some time in the future.
 
Why, then, had Tan not acted to prevent it? Tan’s minions had tried to intercept Mach on the way to Citizen Blue’s estate; they had left an avenue to the space port open. That was the kind of error Citizens seldom made.

The timing had been remarkably convenient. Tan’s minions had struck just when the next ship out was the one to Moeba.

Mach had no further doubt: Tan had wanted him on this ship. That meant that there would be a welcoming party on Moeba. Away from Proton, Mach could not turn to his father for help. Perhaps a trap had been set for Agape, so that if she succeeded in departing Proton safely, she would still be taken captive. Now Tan had elected to use it on Mach. It could have been serendipitous for the Citizen: a trap set for one used to catch the other.

Now he was on the way to that trap, and he could not detour. The ship terminated at Moeba; it would undergo inspection and preparation for its next voyage, and only service crews would be permitted to remain on it. Mach would have to go to the planetary surface—where he would be vulnerable to whatever the Citizen had in mind. How could he escape it?

He smiled. There were ways. Bane, in this body, might have been helpless, but Mach was not.
 
First he had to eliminate the marker. He knew that his left hand was hopeless; once impregnated with radiation, it would remain so until the radiation faded, which could be years. So—

He opened his chest cavity and brought out a small tool. He used this to pry under the pseudoflesh of his left wrist and access the circuitry there. He nulled it, and separated the physical locks. Soon he removed the hand and sealed over the wrist.

Another passenger noted this procedure. “Most interesting,” the creature murmured. It was a serpentine form, with a dozen handlike projections along its sides.
 
Perhaps its interest was professional.

Mach realized that the creature had spoken in Moebite. It must have learned the language for its visit. He held out the hand. “Would you like to borrow it?” he asked in that language. “I must warn you that it has been impregnated with marker radiation: harmless to living flesh, but a beacon for the party seeking it.” He held out the hand.

The creature took it. “I would like to study this. I regret I cannot detach one of my own. May I proffer some other item or service?”

“Perhaps a service. I believe that some party on Moeba intends to take me captive, identifying me by this hand. Would you care to lead that party astray?”

“I would be delighted!” the creature said.
 
Thus expeditiously was the deal made. Mach was gambling that the party would use the radiation to do the identification, not considering the physical appearance of the subject at all. It was evident that many strange creatures visited the planet, so appearance meant little.

He would have to do without his hand, but that seemed a necessary price for his freedom.
 
Now all he had to do was decide on a legitimate mission, since he would have to remain on the planet at least until another ship traveled back to Proton—and until he could safely return. That might be a while.
 
Actually, he had a mission: to learn how a robot might breed with a Moebite. This was the occasion to investigate the prospects.

In due course the ship arrived at the planet of the Amoeba and established orbit. The passengers were shuttled down on a winged craft that swooped onto a dark marsh. A submersible bubble took them to a chamber some distance below the surface.
 
It turned out that the other passengers were Moe bites, returning from their various interplanetary missions. They had maintained their discrete disguises as a matter of principle while away from home, but now dissolved with relief into their natural jelly forms. They had assumed that Mach was another Moebite, and were evidently surprised when he did not melt.
 
The individual with the marked hand went immediately to another chamber, as if trying to escape detection. There was no immediate sign of pursuit, but Mach was sure some would soon manifest. There was no chance of losing track of that hand!

A Moebite formed into a vaguely human outline and approached him. “You have business here?” it inquired in its own language; Mach understood it only because of his language program.

“I have come to inquire about your nature and culture,” Mach said. His actual words were only approximately analogous to the ones he would have used on Proton.

“We are always glad to exchange information,” the Moebite said. “Do you wish a cultural tour?”

“Yes.” His preliminary research had indicated that this was the proper mode of introduction.
 
“I shall summon a guide.”

“Thank you.”

In a moment the guide appeared, in the guise of a naked human being, except for one distinction: it was neuter. “A greeting, man-being,” it said in Moebite.
 
“I am Coan. Have you a preference?”

Mach considered. The creature was sexless, and could assume the appearance of either sex, just as Agape could. Agape had chosen to be female, and had then conformed psychologically to that image. He decided not to get involved with any other alien female.
 
“Male, if you please. I am Mach.”

Coan’s midsection melted, then shaped into penis and scrotum. His hips thinned down slightly. He had made the requisite cosmetic adaptation.

“Our habitat is dry, but we handle wet well,” Coan said. “These are melt channels through which travelers normally pass.” He indicated several holes in the floor.
 
As Mach looked, he saw one in use: semi-fluid substance was squeezing up from it and pooling around it.
 
Soon the Moebite was through, and sliding toward a waiting region, evidently early for its ship.
 
“I hope there is an alternative exit,” Mach said. “My body is not flexible in this manner.”

“Our facilities for aliens are limited, but sufficient,” Coan said. “We shall utilize a capsule.” He showed the way to a port that could accommodate a man. He touched it and it opened, revealing the small transparent bubble beyond. They climbed in and sealed the bubble’s lock. Then the little craft moved through the water, dropping slowly to the sea floor and extending fibers that traveled along its nether side, moving it gently forward.

“What was the business of the other travelers?” Mach inquired.

“They are representatives to other planets. They assume the forms of the creatures whom they visit and learn their modes of communication. We are studying the galaxy, and wish to know as much as we can learn about the ways of other sapient species.”

“Because you have no technology of your own,” Mach said.

“True. We had no need of it until we made contact with other species. Now we realize that we are retarded in this sense, and we wish to make progress. We prefer not to be entirely dependent on other planets for our interplanetary contacts.”

Mach could appreciate why. Any aggressive planet could exploit Moeba unmercifully, and surely in time that would occur. “So you are studying technology, and trying to learn sexual reproduction, so that your species will evolve as effectively as others do.”

“You have an unusual comprehension of our effort,” Coan remarked.

“I am not a normal individual of my species,” Mach said. “I am a machine—“

“I had noted that. But you are self-willed.”

“Who is in love with a living creature of another species.”

“I begin to perceive the nature of your empathy,”

“I also represent, in a manner, the interest of another individual who is in love with a Moebite, and who I believe would like to breed with her.”

Coan considered a moment. “I believe we have some common interest. We must explore it in greater detail.”

“Agreed.”

The bubble reached the shore and crawled onto land, then stalled; its fiber-propulsion was unable to sustain the weight on land. The port opened, and they climbed out.

Coan escorted him to a building that appeared to have been constructed by natives of another planet.
 
That made sense; the Moebites had had no technological culture of their own. This was the limitation they were trying to surmount.

“In the beginning, our culture was without form and void,” Coan said, showing a setting of deep water. “We were amoeba, but small, floating in the current. We were victim to other species, and to each other. Predator species were dominant.” And in the setting, little amoeba were engulfed by larger ones.

“We retreated to the least hospitable realms, the shallows and the rivers,” Coan continued as they moved to the next exhibit. “Conditions were more extreme here, and we had to develop tougher membranes and tougher protoplasm. But the predators did the same, and followed us. We retreated to the fresh water, developing membranes to contain our vital solutions, and finally to the land itself.” The settings showed this progression.
 
“But here the climate was truly savage. No amount of fleshly adaptation could sustain us against the alternate desiccation of the summer sunlight and freezing of the winter. But we discovered how actually to shape our environment somewhat for our comfort, by crafting deep pools in hollows on the land that the predators could not reach, or by walling off sea inlets so that predators had difficulty passing. Food was a serious problem on land, but we learned to cultivate simple cells and feed on them.

“The most important breakthrough was the development of linguistic communication. It enabled us to form, in effect, a larger entity, that was better able to cope with inclement conditions. We now dominate our planet, and no other species preys on us. But when the first shuttle from an alien planet landed, we realized that a great deal more remained to be mastered.”

“But how do you reproduce?” Mach asked.
 

“By fission. We grow to sufficient size, then divide into clone entities, each the same as the original.”

“But this should result in the continual fragmentation of the species,” Mach protested.

“No. When two of us have need, we flow together, and the dominant genes establish a new entity with traits of each of the contributors. Then we fission, and the clones are similar. This process maintains a unified species.”

“But each individual loses its identity when mergence occurs,” Mach protested. “A new individual is formed, a compromise creature.”

“Yes. This is why our leading scholars avoid mergence as long as possible. Unfortunately, mergence is our nature; aging and weakening occur if it is postponed too long. Thus we are unable to maintain a truly discrete intellectual stratum in the fashion of the creatures of other planets. This, we now perceive, is a liability.”

“Sexual reproduction allows individuals to reproduce in a species-unifying way without sacrificing their individuality,” Mach said. “That is an asset.”

“Yes. That is why we seek to master this style of reproduction. We are devising a mechanism of uneven fission, so that the clones are not of the same size.”

“But the merging entities must still form new individuals,” Mach protested. “The size should not affect that.”

“True. But it enables one of the clones to retain identity.”

“I am a machine. My thinking may be limited. I don’t follow this.”

Coan showed him to another exhibit. This was an expanded view of two amoeba. “Each adult fissions unevenly,” he explained. As he spoke, the models divided, each forming one large and one small daughter cell. The amoeba, of course, were single-celled, despite their size. “But this is contrary to our nature; the smaller individuals cannot survive alone, being too small to sustain the sophisticated processes of our advanced state. They must merge immediately, while the larger ones are able to survive independently.” The two small ones merged, forming a new individual of about the size of the parent amoeba.