Cybersong (22 page)

Chakotay was disgusted, sickened by this declaration. Everything else had been minor by comparison. He knew, he truly knew that his contacts with his spirit guides were real. He was revolted by the innocent arrogance that claimed it knew all and was beyond the depth of knowledge of all the people it had murdered.

At one point he could have been compassionate. Now the AI had gone too far. It was not simply sick, it was an abomination.

Chakotay could not believe that its creators had purposely constructed such hubris in their machines. No, over the long centuries of isolation, it must have convinced itself of its perfection and immortality.

But even computers died. And they died very easily.

“NO!”

The scream battered his forehead like a hammer slamming into the bone.

It was not volume, it was the intensity behind the protest, within the desire.

“It is right,” Mandel went on, the words forming in Chakotay’s head even as he tried to resist them. “It is immortal, it is more perfect than any living creature it has found. It had a right to test them.

They failed, it did not.”

“Yes?” Chakotay asked. He kept his mind clear, listening, transparent. He kept out all conscious awareness of getting up and making his way to the workstation where Daphne Mandel sat perched above him. He concentrated on the placid lakeside, the limpid water, the darting shadows of small fish searching for food. He breathed deeply and remembered the smell of early grass and morning, the color of the sky and the puffy white clouds reflected in the tranquil pool.

He had moved this way then, at one with his surroundings.

His mind was open, inviting them to join him here. He did not notice consciously that he had crossed the floor and was under the workstation. Daphne Mandel did not notice it either. She was too busy trying to interpret the image of the morning to an AI that had never seen planetfall.

The projections were old and brittle and had been exposed too long to the cold. Chakotay was not certain they would hold his weight.

Gingerly, gently, he grasped one of the dark crystal pieces and hauled himself up.

Slowly, slowly. The projection held. He stepped upward, shifting his weight so torpidly that it was hard to know when he had passed the halfway point and the new projection was bearing the stress. In his mind he held firm to the picture of the lake, of the cliff above it, of climbing the rocks with his friends when they were very young looking for eagle feathers.

As he ascended the bank of projections to the seat where Daphne Mandel perched, he saw her sitting there, rapt, her face illuminated by the glow of the screen and the eerie colors of the power crystals glittering around them.

The whole chamber was alight; the AI was putting on a show for the ensign. Light and power concentrated in a far corner.

Faintly the image of the indigo angel built itself. It was only two dimensions and transparent like a ghost.

There must not be any holographic projectors in here, Chakotay thought.

The imaging equipment probably was basic communications that the AI was trying to use for a slightly different purpose.

“How beautiful,” Daphne Mandel whispered aloud.

Chakotay chose that moment to put his arm around her waist and counterbalance with his hip against her torso to haul her out of her seat. She dangled in the light gravity held only by Chakotay’s one arm. He was glad that Daphne Mandel was small and slight.

She fought back. Chakotay held her hard. “Mandel,” he barked, trying to bring her out of it, back to herself. Back to awareness of herself as separate from the AI. “Put your arms around my neck,” he ordered briskly.

She started to turn and heave herself onto his shoulder.

Put her down, the voice echoed from speakers throughout the room as well as inside his own head. The sudden noise startled him, and Mandel chose just that moment to thrash violently against him.

And he dropped her.

The fall was all of only a meter and a half, and the gravity was not up to full scale. But she fell into a heap like a rag doll.

Chakotay jumped down and immediately checked her pulse, her eyes.

She was alive, and it didn’t seem as if she had broken any bones.

Her eyes rolled back in her head and she had lost consciousness.

Chakotay did not hesitate. He balanced her limp form over his shoulder and tapped his comm badge. “We have a medical emergency. Two to beam back immediately.”

And before anyone could reply by voice, he was in the shuttle.

Kes was ready with her equipment as he laid Daphne Mandel across the seats.

***

“She lost consciousness when the AI broke their link,” Kes said after a quick examination. “Otherwise she’s fine. There’s no physical damage here, but whatever was between her and that AI was deep in her mind.

The recoil shocked her. I don’t know what will bring her back. But The Doctor will know, I’m sure.”

“Okay,” Chakotay said. He tapped his comm badge. “Ms. Torres, prepare to get back to the shuttle. We’re about to leave.”

“Commander, I’m not finished here,” B’Elanna protested. “I need at least fifteen more minutes to fill up the canisters.

Chakotay looked at the ashen-faced Ensign Mandel. He thought about what the energy influx would mean to Voyager as a whole.

“Can you speed up the process?” he asked Torres.

“I’ll try, but no guarantees,” B’Elanna replied.

“You have four minutes, and then we’ll transport you back here with whatever you’ve got in the canisters,” Chakotay told her, nodded to Tom Paris as he spoke. “We have to get Mandel to sickbay immediately.”

No. She can’t leave here. You can’t take her away!

The AI screamed in his mind and also through every speaker in the shuttlecraft and the larger segment of the deck.

“She needs medical assistance,” Chakotay said aloud as well as in his mind. He tried to keep his thoughts and his voice even and calm, though he felt anything but calm.

“We do not have the capabilities here to help her recover. On our ship we have better facilities. If you could help fill the canisters in Engineering, you could help us get Mandel to the treatment she needs.”

She must stay here, the AI informed them haughtily. You will not kidnap her. If you do I will destroy your entire ship. I have done this before. You have seen my work.

“`My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair. Nothing beside remains. Round the decay of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare. The lone and level sands stretch far away,’” Chakotay recited.

“Shelley,” Tom Paris informed her.

I will not let any of you leave.

“Do you want to kill her?” Kes asked. “You cannot help her and we can. If you want to do what’s best for her, if you want her to return, then you have to let us take her back to the ship. If you really care about her, then you’ll get the containers filled as fast as possible.

Daphne needs your help.”

“But if I let her go, she’ll never come back. You won’t let her come back ” the AI wailed. “And I love her.”

“If you love her, then you have to do what’s best for her, not what’s best for you,” Kes told it firmly. “Sometimes you have to take risks.”

“Risk?” the AI asked. “Risk? I do not take risks. I calculate the probability, and I do not act when probability is not in my favor.”

“And so you’d rather kill people than take the risk that they might leave you,” Chakotay said. “And you’ll never know. You never will find out whether they would return to you if you give them the freedom.

And until you’re ready to do that, you’ll never know. You can’t have real love unless someone wants you freely. But you don’t permit anyone to make any free decisions, and so you have never had anything that was worthwhile. So you will always be alone without even yourself.”

The AI was silent. Chakotay could feel it processing.

And now he understood it. For the first time the adversary made sense, and he knew how to counter its arguments.

Through the link he shared with the AI, he could feel that Kes understood as well. Kes was wise, he thought as he nodded toward her.

She had an understanding of the heart that was pure and clear, and that transcended species or even material being.

“Commander, the tanks are full,” B’Elanna’s voice came over the comm badge tinged with amazement. “Three minutes, fourteen seconds. We’re ready to go.”

Tom Paris didn’t wait for the order to energize the transporter.

B’Elanna Torres appeared with her four energy containment canisters as Chakotay spoke. “Let’s get out of here now,” he said.

Paris’s fingers were already on the panel. “Yes, sir,” he said as the shuttlecraft lifted and rotated into the dark.

Chakotay entered the staff meeting silently. Around the captain’s table the senior staff talked in whispers, speculating about whether they would go or explore more fully now that they were assured of supplies.

Chakotay stayed out of it. He didn’t know what he thought yet.

There was too much data supporting each side. And he had a personal stake in it as well.

He did not like being in telepathic communication with this entity.

Chakotay was no telepath. That channel was only for his spirit guides, and he felt polluted having it used by something as immature as this AI appeared to be.

He didn’t want to sink to its level by doing it harm. But he didn’t want to interact with it either. He would prefer to be far away, to leave it behind him.

But he felt a sense of responsibility for the next group of people who would be drawn into the AI’s trap. They might not be so adept as Voyager, or so lucky.

The captain entered and everyone stood. She sat and they all followed suit. She called the meeting to order. “Now that we have managed to dear the computer system, I have to come to some kind of conclusion as to whether we use the resources that are available here, or if the danger is too great for us to stay. I will need complete data from everyone who has been involved with the alien AI in order to make this decision. It. Torres, tell me what the advantages of this power feed are, and how much we can expect to gain.”

“What this will do effectively is jump-start the power feed to the replicators,” Torres explained in the captain’s ready room.

“We won’t be able to keep the power boost up because we don’t have the components to create more of the replicator energy requirements.”

“Why not just replicate them with the first blast of the new stuff?”

Tom Paris asked. “Then we’ll be able to generate as much as we need.”

Harry Kim explained it. “We can’t generate what doesn’t exist.

We can change one substance to another, or transform energy into matter. That’s manipulating molecules, which is what the replicator does. But we can’t get more energy-creating components than we put into it. We can’t create more subatomic particles than are already there, although the replicator can arrange them in any configuration, which is why it seems to create things. But it can’t create out of nothing at all.”

“Not bad, Starfleet,” B’Elanna Torres complimented him. “So what about your AI theory? Did you get the computer cleaned out? Can we leave now?”

“We have regained navigational control of the ship,” Tuvok said.

“And with the additional replicator power, we will be able to make our next supply stop well within acceptable parameters.”

“But with the extra supplies we also have some leeway to explore a little more completely and use any resources that might help us,” the captain reminded them. “And with our own computer protected from programming by outside sources, we are fairly immune.”

“And we could harvest more power,” Torres spoke up. “I’ve got enough containment fields to double our replicator rations for ten months, if I have time to fill them all.”

The captain looked thoughtful. “Having the replicator reserves would be helpful.”

Tuvok broke into their speculation. “May I remind you, Captain, that that AI has shot at us once and certainly has the capability to do so again. Several of the ships it has corralled were warships, and our scans have identified what could be weapons systems still functioning aboard. It is highly unpredictable. I would be remiss if I did not advise you to put some distance between us and it before it decides the current experiment in altruism is a failure.”

“Ms. Torres, did you find any indication of a technology that will assist us in getting home?” the captain asked pointedly.

“No,” Torres answered. “Except for the power for the replicators, I mean. That will be useful in the short run, but it’s not going to get us home any faster.”

“And how long would it take you to fill the rest of your supply?” the captain continued.

B’Elanna hesitated. “That depends on the AI. When it decided to assist us, it took very little time. Without its cooperation, we could find it impossible.”

“Captain, I don’t think the thing is trustworthy,” Chakotay said.

“I think the sooner we are out of here the better.”

“And what about other travelers to this region, Mr. Chakotay?”

Tuvok asked. “Do we not have a responsibility to others who will be caught in the same trap?”

“What do you suggest we do?” the captain asked Tuvok.

“I suggest, Captain, that we eliminate the danger. This is an artificial being. It does not have the same rights as a living creature. To destroy it is not to destroy life. And its destruction will undoubtedly save lives. To sacrifice a machine to save the lives of people of any race is a logical solution.”

“It might not be alive, Mr. Tuvok, but it’s sentient,” Chakotay countered. “And if we define life as sentience, then we have to include this AI in the category of living being.”

“It is still a machine,” the Vulcan pointed out.

“It is a machine, but it thinks. It feels. It senses itself as alive and as a unique identity. To kill it is still murder,” Chakotay said.

“And not to kill it will mean that others will be trapped and murdered,” Tuvok stated. “To destroy one to save many is still a logical choice. And an ethical one.”