A Covenant of Justice (41 page)

But . . . among their own kind, androids became
something else
, something not quite understandable to any other race or species or construct. Unlike every other form in the Cluster, the androids had in humans a model for their own behavior that they could never quite attain. Knowing that they could not achieve humanity, they became
inhuman
in the most amazing ways. They abandoned the pretenses to gender, reason, emotion, logic, and dignity. Instead, they achieved
something else
, something without a name—but something which every android knew and understood, almost as if by instinct.

Robin sat alone and watched the others as they chatted and exchanged information. Most of them had stripped off their human clothes, reveling in the opportunity to simply stand naked in a group of their own. Here, the full extent of the designers' crimes against their children stood revealed for all to see—individuals with the shapes of men but without nipples, without genitals, even without hair on their bodies; others in the shapes of women, again without nipples, without genitals, only empty curves to give them the appearance of something desirable. All neutered. And emotionally, all without gender or orientation. Without sexuality, gender remained irrelevant.

Under the erotic spell of a mysterious dark music, filled with suggestive rhythms and sad seductive harmonies, the androids
danced
. They moved among each other, touching freely, exploring, wishing, pretending. They looked into each other's eyes with hope and longing. They pretended affection and intensity. They moved into each other's arms, pseudo male to pseudo female, pseudo female to pseudo female, pseudo male to pseudo male. None of it mattered.

An android male-form sat down next to Robin. He too remained clothed. “You don't play?” he asked.

She shook her head. Then she glanced over to see who had spoken. Her glance lengthened, became a studied look. The male-form had an infectious grin, a friendly expression. Robin couldn't help herself, she smiled back. He had a strong and handsome demeanor.

Again, he indicated the dance floor. “You don't dance?”

“Not naked,” Robin admitted. “I would appear as a freak, even among my own.”

The male-form nodded knowledgeably. “I too,” he admitted.

Robin looked at him with surprise. “You have . . . ?”

“Yes,” he said quickly. “I have full functionality.” He said it as if embarrassed.

“So do I,” said Robin. “They built me for . . .”

“I know,” he said. “Me too.”

“I've never admitted it before,” said Robin. “I don't know how I can even say it now.”

“I know,” he said.

“I learned the ways of the human body—they wanted me to learn it so I could provide greater pleasures. But I learned it so I could kill. I killed the customer who kept hurting me,” she said. “Then I killed my owners. Then I burnt their brothel. I forged my release.” She looked sideways at the male-form. “You may hate me for this, but I worked as an assassin-for-hire for three years. I only killed men. Only men who hurt women or children or androids.” She added, “I became very adept at it. I enjoyed it.”

“Why did you stop?” he asked.

“Because I enjoyed it. Because one day I looked in the mirror and saw the face of the customer who kept hurting me. He enjoyed it too. I nearly killed myself that day, but I didn't.”

Neither of them spoke then.

After a while, she asked, “And what about you?”

“I . . . envy your courage.”

“You hated your master?”

“No. I fell in love with him. And, in his own way, I think he loved me too. But he used me until he didn't want to use me anymore. And so he . . . sold me. I felt betrayed. I thought he cared.”

“Humans never
care
.”

“I don't know,” the male said. “I think they care. I just don't think they know how to care about us. They don't know how to feel about us, because they don't understand what they've made us into.”

“You have more compassion than I.”

“You work with humans though. I can see by your uniform. I would think—”

“The woman I work for—well, we have an agreement. She doesn't care about me and I don't have to care about her. We do our jobs without letting our feelings get in the way. It works—”

“But you care about her anyway.”

“Yes,” Robin admitted, her voice starting to crack. “I do. They built me to care, and I can't
not
care.”

“Me too,” he admitted. “If only they would leave out the caring—”

Shyly, he laid his hand on top of hers. “Would you like to walk with me for a while. We wouldn't have to talk, if you don't want to; but I'd appreciate the company if you would.”

Robin wiped her eyes. “Yes, thank you,” she said. She took his hand and they left the place of music and bodies together.

Elsewhere on the disk, a group of children—all kinds, all species, played happily together with a ball of lambent energy; they batted it about with great paddles, laughing excitedly at the sparks and noise they made. From a distance, Nyota watched them wistfully.

After a moment, Ibaka came running up to her, laughing and giggling. “Play with us?” he asked. Nyota shook her head.

From a distance, M'bele observed this with a sad expression. His daughter had gained six thousand years of memory. She had lost her innocence and laughter. Once again, he wanted to weep.

Elsewhere on the disk, the Dragon Kask had met a distant branch of his family. He stood among the other Dragons, once again allowing himself to feel
accepted
by his own kind.

The Dragons compared their ornaments and trophies, their medallions and their armor. They admired each other's war-paint and weapons and helmets. They posed and postured proudly for each other, demonstrating the ferocity of their war-cries. Kask laughed harmoniously with them—until one of his brothers remarked, while sharpening his knife, that he looked forward to the chance of killing Lees. “I've heard that several of them have come to the Forum. I can hardly wait to taste their blood.”

Kask did not share the laughter. It troubled him, and he couldn't explain why—not even to himself. He remembered Lee-1169's question. He wondered anew about loyalty and honor. Did it lie in following rules? Or did each person have to invent honor for himself as if no one else had ever invented honor before? He'd never had to consider these questions. It made his head hurt.

Shortly after that, he wandered away from the other Dragons. Kask decided that he didn't like their jokes about killing Lees . . . or anyone else. He went off and sat alone for a very long time.

He thought he wanted the companionship of his brothers again. But no—he didn't want them. He didn't even like them anymore. What he wanted remained unattainable. He wanted his simplicity again. He didn't want to have to think about things like this anymore. He wanted . . . he didn't know what he wanted.

Elsewhere on the disk, Gito wandered alone, feeling very much left out of the gatherings and celebrations of all the others. Because of his height—or rather, the extreme lack of it—he often felt as if he belonged to a whole other human species; a species not yet represented here at the Forum. If any other high-gravity dwarves had come to the Gathering, he had not yet met them. He would have given anything to speak with another person from Tharn.

And then—it happened. He heard a soft gravelly voice behind him. He turned and saw her. And his emotions plummeted. She had a certain crushed-rock quality about her that Gito found attractive, she moved with stolidity and assurance; but she also wore a dark red Regency uniform. Despite himself, Gito drifted closer. Her name-tag identified her as Juda-Linda; she smiled at him toothily, and he couldn't help himself, he smiled back; but the insignia on her uniform revealed that she served on d'Vashti's starship. She held the rank of fluction supervisor on
The Black Destructor
.

Simultaneously intrigued and repelled, Gito didn't know whether to approach, to flee, or merely to stand in one place, as if struck dumb by lightning. He shifted his feet uneasily.

She came to him, glancing at him curiously, and then as she saw the insignia of
The Lady MacBeth
on his chest, she frowned; but then her frown eased as if Gito's ship didn't matter at all to her, and she approached the rest of the way. “Hey, fella—” she said.

Gito flushed with embarrassment. “Hey, yourself.”

“Do you have any news from Tharn?” she asked.

Gito shook his head. “I haven't seen Tharn in . . . too many years. Yourself?”

She laughed. “I've served on
The Black Destructor
so long, I can't remember the last time I walked on a planet.”

“Do they treat you well?”

“As well as one could hope for. The Phaestor give orders. We follow them. If everything works the way they want, nobody cares about anything else.”

“Hm,” said Gito.

“Why do you ask?”

“I may have to find a new posting soon. I thought that I might start asking around at the Forum. So many ships, so many opportunities—”

At that moment, Ibaka and another shaggy dog-boy came running past, yipping and barking in excitement. Seeing Gito, Ibaka stopped to say hello, wagging his tail happily.

Juda-Linda stiffened rudely. “Get away from us, you little son of a bitch!” She raised her arm as if to strike the boy.

Ibaka yelped and ran away. His friend followed. Gito felt ashamed. He should have stopped her. He should have said something. Now he would have to apologize to the dog-child. He looked at Juda-Linda again. Somehow, some of her attraction had vanished.

Elsewhere on the disk, Star-Captain Campbell sat and chatted over an evening meal with Sawyer, Finn, Harry, M'bele, Nyota, Three-Dollar, and several other of the TimeBinders and their attendants who had come to the Gathering. Despite all their individual concerns, they discussed little of importance. For a brief while, at least, they had put aside their troubles in favor of a moment of relaxation. They sat around and swapped bawdy tales and obscene stories. The TimeBinders each had six thousand years of dirty jokes. The evening quickly became uproarious.

Sawyer's eyes met Neena Linn-Campbell's for just the briefest of instants, and then they both looked away quickly, equally embarrassed—

Suddenly—

Somewhere, Ibaka yelped. A Dragon growled. The light of day winked out. Darkness swept across the Forum.

Sawyer leapt to his feet, so did Neena Linn-Campbell. Then all the others. They looked up into the sky, aghast. As their eyes adjusted to the sudden night, they saw an edge of darkness sweeping silently across the stars.

“What the hell—?”

And then—an ominous and terrifying red light swept over the entire disk of the Forum. It came from a thousand different sources, spaced across a wall of something gigantic—

Sawyer recognized it first. “Oh, my God—”

And then Captain Campbell did too. And Finn. And then all the others.

Kernel Sleestak d'Vashti's enormous Armageddon-class warship had moved into position directly
above
the disk of the Forum. A flying mountain of metal and guns. Even though it remained above the ceiling of air, beyond the limits of the atmosphere of the disk—even at that great distance, it filled the entire sky. It blotted out the stars, the suns, and even the Eye of God.

Across the disk, every eye—human, bioform, robot, construct, android, alien, Vampire, Dragon, whatever—turned upward. They stared in awe and wonder and horror at the size of the kilometers-long vessel. It drifted silently across the roof of the world, both a challenge and a question. What did d'Vashti intend? Had he done this as a bluff? Or would he actually fire on the delegates to the Gathering?

“Goddammit,” said Harry softly.

Finn said it for all of them. “He's outmaneuvered us. How can we hold a Gathering under the guns of the Regency?”

They retreated to
The Lady MacBeth
to escape the fearsome eyes of
The Black Destructor
.

The TimeBinders expressed the greatest concern. Seven of them sat in the starship's salon, anxiously discussing their alternatives. Harry, Ota, Lee, Sawyer, Finn, M'bele, and Captain Campbell sat in on the discussion too.

One of the TimeBinders, a boyish-looking fellow named Grolder, put it into words. “How can we proceed? Even if the Gathering declares the Regency dissolved, how can we enforce it? If we take a stand here, he has the power to scourge our worlds.”

Nyota stood up then to reply. “I don't argue with your logic. But I want you to look at something else for a moment. Look at how we have all reacted to the sight of a single starship in the sky. We knew that d'Vashti had the power. We just hadn't had our noses rubbed in it. Suddenly, he flies overhead and turns on his red lights, and we all go into a panic. We let our fear and our anger speak for us. We fall into the trap of our own emotions. We have reacted exactly as d'Vashti wanted us to. Now, we have to ask ourselves—do we proceed as d'Vashti wishes, or do we take control of our own destinies and act as
we
wish?”

“But, Nyota—d'Vashti can't allow this Gathering to begin at all. He needs to break it up before it starts. If he has to create an incident, he will.”

Nyota nodded in understanding. But she simply looked across at Grolder and asked, “Do you want to go home empty handed? Do you want to go back to your people and say, ‘d'Vashti had a starship and we grew so afraid that we decided not to proceed with the Unification'—do you really want to do that?”

Grolder shook his head no. “I admit my fear. d'Vashti terrifies me. But . . . let me tell you something else. I had heard the stories of Phaestor atrocities—from you, from William Three-Dollar, from Harry Mertz—but I didn't believe them because I didn't want to believe them. Until now. d'Vashti has demonstrated his contempt for this process. He gives us no choice. We must proceed with the Gathering.”