The Human Division (43 page)

“I’m on the bridge,” Carn said. “There’s no one here. But there’s a screen that’s on.”

“All right,” Werd said. “So what?”

“So when I passed by the screen, words came up on it,” Carn said.

“What did they say?” Wilson asked.

“‘Come back,’” Carn said.

“I thought you said there was no one in the room with you,” Werd said.

“There’s
not,
” Carn said. “Hold on, there’s something new on the screen now. More words.”

“What’s it say this time?” Werd asked.

“‘Help me,’” Carn said.

*   *   *

“You said you had expertise with technology,” Werd said to Wilson, and pointed to the bridge screen, hovering at an off-kilter angle above them. “Make this thing work.”

Wilson grimaced and looked at the screen. The words on the screen were in Lalan; a visual overlay from his BrainPal translated the message. There was no keyboard or operating tool that Wilson could see. He reached up and tapped the screen; nothing. “How do you usually work your screens?” Wilson asked Werd. “Does the Conclave have some sort of standard access interface?”

“I lead people and shoot at things,” Werd said. “Access interfaces aren’t my thing.”

“We have a standard data transmission band,” Carn said. “Not the voice transmission band, but for other things.”

“Hart?” Wilson said.

“Getting that for you now,” Schmidt said, in his head.

“Look,” Carn said, pointing at the screen. “New words.”

You don’t need the data band,
the words said in Lalan.
I can hear you on the audio band. But I only understand the Lalan. My translation module is damaged
.

“What language do you speak?” Wilson said, and ordered his BrainPal to translate in Lalan.

Easo,
the words said.

Wilson queried his BrainPal, which had the language and began to unpack it. “Is that better?” he asked.

Yes, thank you,
the words said.

“Who are you?” Wilson asked.

My name is Rayth Ablant.

“Are you the captain of the
Urse Damay
?” Wilson asked.

In a manner of speaking, yes.

“Why did you attack the
Clarke
and
Nurimal
?” Wilson asked.

I had no choice in the matter.

“Where is everyone?” asked Werd, who apparently had Easo as part of his translation database.

You mean, where is my crew.

“Yes,” Werd said.

I have none. It’s just me.

“Where are you?” Wilson asked.

That’s an interesting question,
the words said.

“Are you on the ship?” Wilson asked.

I am the ship
.

“I heard that correctly, right?” Carn said, after a minute. “I didn’t just get a bad translation, did I?”

“We’re asking the same question over here,” Schimdt said to Wilson, although he was the only one on the
Urse Damay
who could hear him.

“You
are
the ship,” Wilson repeated.

Yes.

“That’s not possible,” Werd said.

I wish you were right about that.

“Lieutenant Werd is right,” Wilson said. “None of us have been able to create truly intelligent machines.”

I never said I was a machine
.

“This guy is making me irritated,” Werd said, to Wilson. “He’s speaking in riddles.”

“And he can hear you,” Wilson said, making a chopping motion:
Werd, shut up.
“Rayth Ablant, you’re going to need to explain yourself better for us. I don’t think any of us understand what you’re saying.”

It’s easier to show you.

“All right,” Wilson said. “Show me.”

Look behind you.

Wilson did. Behind him was a line of displays and a large, black cabinet. He turned back to the display.

Open it. Carefully.

Wilson did.

Hello
.

“Oh, fuck me,” Wilson said.

*   *   *

“He’s a brain in a box,” Wilson said. “Literally a brain in a box. I opened up the cabinet and there’s a container in there with an Easo brain and nervous system laid out and connected to non-organic data fibers. There’s some sort of liquid surrounding the brain, which I suspect is keeping it oxygenated and fed. There’s an outtake tube that connects to what looks like a filtering mechanism, with another tube coming out the other end. It all gets recycled. It’s pretty impressive, as long as you forget that there’s an actual sentient being trapped in there.”

Wilson sat once more in the
Clarke
shuttle bay with Abumwe, Sorvalh, Muhtal Worl and Hart Schmidt. Captains Coloma and Fotew had returned to their posts. Abumwe and Coloma had seen Rayth Ablant from Wilson’s own point of view through his BrainPal feed, but Sorvalh wanted a report as well. Wilson offered her his BrainPal feed, but she refused, preferring, as she said, “a live recounting.”

“Who was this Ablant?” Sorvalh asked. “He had a life before … this.”

“He was a pilot on the
Urse Damay,
or so he says,” Wilson said. “You would be able to check that better than I would, Councillor.”

Sorvalh nodded to Worl, who made a note on his tablet computer. “He was part of a crew,” Sorvalh said. “The
Urse Damay
had a core crew of fifty and a diplomatic mission party of a dozen. What happened to them?”

“He says he doesn’t know,” Wilson said. “He says he had been asleep when the
Urse Damay
was first boarded and that he was knocked unconscious during the invasion. When he woke up he was like this. The people who did this to him didn’t tell him anything about the rest of his crew.”

“And who are they, the people who did this to him?” Sorvalh asked.

“He says he doesn’t know that, either,” Wilson said. “He says he’s never even technically spoken with them. They communicate with him through text. When he came to, they explained to him his job was to learn how to operate and navigate the
Urse Damay
on his own and that when he became proficient enough, he would be given a mission. This was that mission.”

“Do you believe he doesn’t know who these people are?” Sorvalh asked Wilson.

“Pardon my French, Councillor, but the guy is a fucking disembodied brain,” Wilson said. “It’s not like he has any powers of observation other than what they gave him. He says they didn’t even give him external inputs until after the ship skipped. He was flying blind for the first half of his mission. It’s entirely possible he knows nothing about these people but what they tell him, which is almost nothing.”

“You trust him,” Sorvalh said.

“I
pity
him,” Wilson said. “But I also think he’s credible. If he was a willing participant in this, they wouldn’t need to put his brain in a box to get him to do what they want him to do.”

“Tell the councillor what he was told his payment would be for this mission,” Abumwe said to Wilson.

“They told him that if he did this mission, they’d put his brain back into his body and send him home,” Wilson said. “His payment would be that he gets to be himself again.”

Sorvalh was silent about this for a moment, contemplating. Then she shifted her body weight and addressed Abumwe. “I would ask your indulgence for a moment while I say something terribly blunt.”

“Be my guest,” Abumwe said.

“It’s no great secret that the Colonial Union does things like this all the time,” Sorvalh said. She motioned at Wilson. “Your lieutenant here is the result of consciousness allegedly being transferred from one body to another genetically-modified one. He has a computer in his brain which connects to it using inorganic connections that are at least functionally similar to what’s connected to this poor creature. Your special forces soldiers are even more modified than he is. We know that you have some special forces soldiers who only tangentially resemble human beings. And we know that one penalty option your Colonial Defense Forces has for its malfeasant soldiers is to place their brains in a container for a period of time.”

Abumwe nodded and said, “Your point, Councillor.”

“My point, Ambassador, is that whoever did this to Rayth Ablant, their mode of operation is closer to that of the Colonial Union than it is to the Conclave,” Sorvalh said.

Abumwe nodded at Wilson again. “Tell her Rayth Ablant’s orders,” she said.

“He says his orders were to destroy any and all ships that presented themselves after he skipped,” Wilson said. “There was no discrimination on the part of his masters. They just pointed him at both of us and hoped for the best.”

“To what end?” Sorvalh said.

“Does it matter?” Abumwe said. “If we had been destroyed, the Colonial Union would have blamed you for the ambush. If you had been destroyed, the Conclave would have done the same to us. If we had both been destroyed, our two governments might already be at war. It’s as you said earlier, Councillor. At this point, the
why
is almost trivial, unless we know the
who
.”

“If your Lieutenant Wilson is correct, and this Rayth Ablant has no way of knowing for whom he works, there’s no way for us to know the
who,
” Sorvalh said. “All we have to go on are methods, and these methods are closer to yours than ours.”

“Rayth Ablant doesn’t know who he’s working for, but he’s not all we have,” Wilson said.

“Explain,” Sorvalh said.

“He’s a brain in a box,” Wilson repeated. “And the
box
can tell us a lot of things. Like whose technology it’s made out of. If there’s anything off the shelf about the thing, then that’s a lead to follow. Even if everything is custom-made, we can reverse-engineer it and maybe find out what it’s closest to. It’s better than what we have now, which is nothing.”

“What will that require?” Sorvalh asked.

“Well, for one thing, I want to take Rayth Ablant off the
Urse Damay,
” Wilson said. “The sooner the better. We have a ticking clock here.”

“I don’t understand,” Sorvalh said.

“One of the first things Rayth Ablant said to us was ‘help me,’” Wilson said. “He said that because his life support is running off the emergency power batteries. He’s got about eight hours left before he exhausts the power supply.”

“And you want to bring him here,” Sorvalh said, indicating the
Clarke
.

Wilson shook his head. “He’s on a Conclave ship,” he said. “Wherever the box comes from, it’s interfaced with a Conclave power network. Your power systems on the
Nurimal
more closely match those of the
Urse Damay
than ours do.” Wilson smiled. “And besides, you have the guns.”

Sorvalh returned the smile. “That we do, Lieutenant,” she said. “But I can’t imagine your boss here will be happy with the Conclave taking possession of that technology.”

“As long as you allow Lieutenant Wilson to closely examine the technology, I have no real objection,” Abumwe said. “Technology is his job. I trust him to learn what he needs to know.”

“Your bosses might not be happy with that, Ambassador Abumwe,” Sorvalh said.

“This may be true,” Abumwe said. “But that’s going to be my problem, not yours.”

“When can you get started?” Sorvalh asked Wilson.

“As soon as you requisition Werd and Carn to help me again,” Wilson said. “The brain box is not too large, fortunately, but the environment in there makes it difficult to move. And the shuttle for transport, obviously.”

Sorvalh nodded to her assistant, who reached again for his tablet computer. “Anything else?” she asked.

“I do have one request,” Wilson said.

“Name it,” Sorvalh said.

“I’d like you to promise me that once you get Rayth Ablant on your ship, that you connect him to your network,” Wilson said.

“And your reason for that is?” Sorvalh asked.

“This poor bastard has spent the last God knows how long running starship operation simulations. All his friends are dead and he’s been talking to no one except the sons of bitches who put him in that box,” Wilson said. “I think he’s probably lonely.”

*   *   *

Do you mind if I ask you a question,
Rayth Ablant said to Wilson. Wilson had opened the data band so that Rayth Ablant could address him directly through his BrainPal rather than through the display. He kept the text interface, however, because it seemed right.

“Go right ahead,” Wilson said. He was busy extracting batteries from underneath the deck of the
Urse Damay
’s bridge and was beginning to sweat inside his vacuum-proof combat suit.

I’d like to know why you’re trying to help me.

“You asked for help,” Wilson said.

I also tried to blow up your ship with you in it.

“That was before you knew me,” Wilson said.

I’m sorry about that.

“I’m not going to tell you not to be sorry,” Wilson said, “but I can understand wanting to get your body back.”

That’s not going to happen now.

“Not through the assholes who did this to you, no,” Wilson said. “It’s not to say it couldn’t happen one day.”

It doesn’t seem likely.

“You’re saying that to a guy who is on his second body,” Wilson said. “I’m a little more optimistic about your plight than you are.” He hauled out a battery and placed it next to the several others he had extracted. Werd and Carn were elsewhere in the
Urse Damay,
pulling out batteries of their own. They would serve as the power source for Rayth Ablant’s brain box until they were all safely on the
Nurimal
. The trip from the
Urse Damay
to the
Nurimal
would be a matter of a couple of minutes, but Wilson was a big believer in overkill when the downside was someone ending up dead.

Thank you for this.

“Thank you for being a terrible shot,” Wilson said. He returned to his task.

You know humans have a bad reputation. Among the rest of us.