Over the course of many years and much intensive training, I have taught Gilbertus Albans how to organize his mind, how to prepare his thoughts in a systematic fashion so that his abilities approach even those of a thinking machine. Unfortunately, I was unable to teach him how to make correct choices.
— Erasmus Dialogues
Out in the main plaza above the shielded vault that held their main memory spheres, the twin everminds flickered with agitation atop their pedestals. Thousands of datastream reports flowed in from the battle lines above Corrin, transmitting updates and warnings.
The human Vengeance Fleet spread out and struck the last Synchronized World in waves, from all sides. At the last moment, the enemy commander had not balked at crossing the deadly boundary and dooming all the innocent captives held aboard the Bridge of Hrethgir. And yet the Bridge had not exploded.
SeurOm and ThurrOm could not understand it.
The paired everminds sent flurries of instructions to the robot battleships, directing them individually with myriad plans, many of which were contradictory. As a result, the machine defenses in orbit responded with unpredictable chaos.
Erasmus was perfectly satisfied with the confusion. He needed to achieve his aims without interference from the dual everminds.
His uncertain contact with Gilbertus was broken as numerous explosions and energy surges from the battlefield corrupted the faulty systems aboard the orbiting cargo containers. Erasmus held the now-blank watcheye in his metal hand, then smashed it on the ground. Anger?
The autonomous robot accessed a set of controls that flowed into some of the smaller defensive ships that had not yet been called to the front. Erasmus seized one of them, controlling the ship remotely from the surface of Corrin.
As his direct linkage to the machine subsystems granted him access, he needed to move the vessel into place and issue orders to the combat meks aboard without either SeurOm or ThurrOm noticing. This task was going to be difficult enough without the everminds’ meddling.
He found the single most important container, guided the small robot ship up against it. Gilbertus was inside there. The vessel docked.
Even without anyone watching, Erasmus fashioned a smile on his face. By now it had become quite a habit for him.
* * *
THE STENCH WAS terrible, the air barely breathable, the oxygen depleted. The metal floor and the hull plates seemed to suck all warmth out of the air, and yet the crowded press of so many unwashed bodies generated a suffocating heat.
Gilbertus sat next to the Serena clone. He held her hand, and she pressed herself against his muscular chest. He had come here of his own accord; perhaps it wasn’t the most logical choice under the circumstances, but he would abide by it. Either the ploy of using human shields would work— or it would not.
In his heart he resented that Erasmus had tricked him by allowing Serena to be whisked away with all the other hostages. When the rest of the plan had become clear, when the images of Serena had been broadcast to the threatening Army of Humanity, Gilbertus understood— in his mind. It all made logical sense; in fact, the addition of this one particular hostage might prove the deciding factor.
“If only it didn’t have to be you,” he whispered to her.
The other hostages aboard the container muttered, shifted, complained. None of them knew what was happening. Some had whispered rumors that the free humans were coming as their saviors; others feared this was another horrific crowd psychology experiment designed by Erasmus. Gilbertus had tried to explain the detailed situation to two men who huddled next to him and Serena, but they didn’t believe his analysis any more than the dozens of alternative stories.
Rekur Van had also been hauled up here, encased in his life-support socket. SeurOm and ThurrOm had apparently seized upon the concept of putting their human captives in harm’s way. The limbless Tlulaxa squirmed and complained and ranted so much that Gilbertus had taken Serena into a different segment of the cargo container. Together, they waited for it to end.
He was sure the crisis should have been decided by now. The delay was a good sign: almost certainly, the League commander had hesitated and drawn back. Otherwise Gilbertus and all of his fellow hostages would be dead by now.
Why, then, did he see so much combat occurring through the tiny window ports? So many bright explosion flashes, a panoply of space vessels flying in all directions? He didn’t recognize several of the major emblems— human battleships? But they were past the scrambler line, and the Bridge of Hrethgir should have detonated.
Gilbertus turned away from the view outside. At least he was with Serena.
“It won’t be much longer,” he said soothingly to her. “They will have to resolve the matter soon.” He knew, too, that the millions of humans aboard the components of the Bridge did not have enough food, water, or air to last more than a few days— and the sheer administrative problem of evacuating all of them back to the surface would require almost as much time as that.
They felt the shuddering vibration as another ship came alongside the crowded cargo container and docked. The maneuver sounded clumsy, as if an inexperienced hand guided it. Gilbertus raced through the possibilities, wondered if perhaps humans had arrived to rescue them. It wasn’t what he wanted, though.
When the crude hatch opened, seven burly combat robots marched in. Their heavy footfalls struck the deck, sending resounding vibrations through the different rooms and holds of the cargo container. Hostages shrank out of the way, trying to avoid notice. The robots, though, were intent.
Gilbertus climbed to his feet. Now he understood. Erasmus had given him just enough information before the watcheye communications link failed.
The robots stopped in front of him, an implacable force, like prison guards ready to usher a prisoner to his execution. “You’ve come to save me,” he said.
“Erasmus commands it.”
The people who were packed around him clamored for rescue as well. They could all feel the air running out, and many had not been fed for almost two days. Gilbertus flicked his gaze back and forth. He reached down and drew Serena to her feet next to him. “I will not resist.”
“You cannot resist.”
“But I must take Serena with me.”
The robots hesitated. “No. Only one of us may return with you to Corrin.”
Gilbertus frowned, trying to assess why Erasmus would do that. Then he realized that the independent robot had probably tricked the two Omnius incarnations; it would be easier for him to muddy the programming of a single combat robot than all seven of them simultaneously. Erasmus needed to buy enough time to get Gilbertus back to the dubious safety of the surface.
“I will not leave without Serena.” Gilbertus crossed his muscular arms over his chest in a defiant gesture. She looked up at him with her trusting lavender eyes.
Six of the robots stepped back. “We will remain aboard this container to stand guard over the Serena Butler clone.”
“Guard her against what?”
The robots paused, receiving new instructions. The lead mek said, “Erasmus asks you to trust him.”
The man’s shoulders sagged, and he let go of Serena’s hand.