The Island of Hope (13 page)

"I'm not. But at least I can analyze what's going on," Simeon replied. "Rory is merely an episode in the galactic expansion of mankind."

"It can't be helped."

"I'm only analyzing... for the time being," Simeon repeated.

"You're too moody. I don't like it. I've warned both Yanna and yourself that you might find it difficult to live in society."

"Don't worry, Andor," Simeon sighed. "I don't intend to judge mankind. I’m just trying to work out certain people's motives. Besides, Yanna isn't in a bad mood at all," he failed to conceal a bitter note. "Thanks for helping me. This evening Yanna, Jedian and I are flying to Stellar. Will you come with us?"

"I'm afraid I can't. Firstly, as far as I know an android isn't on the guest list. Secondly, didn't you ask me to prepare a brief review of Galactic wars? May I ask you why you need it?"

"You may. But I don't know yet. Only vague ideas here," Simeon clapped himself on the forehead. "Above all, please don’t forget to copy the star charts of all the battles, okay?"

"No problem. That'll be done by your return."

Yanna's laughter rang clear from the terrace.

"Well, it's time," Simeon slapped Andor on the shoulder and hurried to the door. "See you."

The android nodded. Just as Simeon, he aspired to work out people's motives. He had already achieved some results in that field. Now as he watched his student go away, Andor realized that he was experiencing an odd discomfort somewhere in the circuits of his state-of-the-art photon brain.
'I wonder if this is what people call pain
?' he thought.
'Or is it anxiety?
'

Jedian appeared in the corridor connecting the dining room to the library. Andor shrank into the shadows to avoid him. He pulled the library control console closer, contacted the data storage and sent the query, "Space battle operations. Full review since 2600."

13.

'W
e had left the Spheroid hopeful.

The uncertainty we'd faced filled me with some semblance of delight. I anticipated the novelty that awaited us in the worlds populated by mankind. Now I understand: it would have probably been better for both Simeon and Yanna had the civilization burned to ashes in the furnace of the two Galactic wars; then their desperate dream of returning to people would have forever remained unchallenged.

For the first time since my activation, my processor identifies the feeling I experience as
fear
. My identity becomes divided, and this division grows into an abyss. On one side there's the cold logic of my software, on the other, my life experience. I'm human and a machine at the same time. I'm so uncomfortable in my cermet-made body which keeps hindering my progress.

I'm waiting. Fear is gnawing at my memory cards, interfering with their normal work. Two persons whom I love are now gone, and it's possible they might come back somewhat changed. My own fate does not worry me: my photon processor is still unsurpassed. No machine can compete with me. My fear is for those two; but my hands are tied. At present I begin to realize why entities endowed with feelings inevitably create religions. I would so much like to pray to any god for Simeon and Yanna not to lose their identities. My logical perception of the world goes far beyond the visible future of the civilization, and I can see clearly that tomorrow belongs to them. To interfere in the course of history is a fallacy of arrogance. I'm unable to change the world: it isn't ready for changes and doesn't desire them. But who can do it if not Simeon and Yanna and others like them? Who can prevent mankind from its arrogant plunge into an abyss, from its continuous courting of some extremely dangerous and ruthless forces? And who will pick up the fragments of humanity after the Apocalypse?

I swear that I'll never influence their decisions. They're people. I've been and will remain their faithful friend. I'm nothing without them. Just an excellent machine that has no equal. like there's no match for Simeon and Yanna. I represent the next generation of machines; they, the next generation of people.

Oh gods, if you do exist, give them the strength to keep their souls intact.'

* * *

A clumsy orbital shuttle cocooned with three layers of reflective armor was cautiously making its way through Rory’s atmosphere. It was going on autopilot but Jedian Lange, just in case, had taken his seat at the control panel in the tiny pilot’s cabin.

A real hell reigned in his heart.

He cursed himself for that moment of weakness. For one brief second had he yielded to compassion, shattering his own future. He should have destroyed that wretched crystal disc with Simeon’s deciphered memories straight away.

The thought made him uncomfortable. Jedian felt he was falling apart. It was as if an abyss, the existence of which he couldn't possibly suspect, had opened up in his heart. The thought of the lost inheritance was driving him crazy.

To top it all, Simeon walked in. “Yanna's asleep,” he explained and took a vacant seat to one side from the pilot’s. “How long are we going to creep like this?” he asked, watching two fireballs trying unsuccessfully to catch up with the shuttle, bobbing about in the its engines' wake.

“Twenty minutes,” Jedian managed.

The ship entered a massive layer of clouds impregnated with water which stretched for many miles, covering the monitors with gray mist.

“You’d better go to the passengers’ cabin,” Jedian advised gloomily. “There’s a thunder front before us. It's going to be bumpy.”

“Can't we go any faster?” Simeon seemed to have ignored Jedian’s last words.

Jedian mentally counted to ten. “Too much electricity here. You don’t want one hundred fireballs to tail us, do you?”

“They're not fast enough,” Simeon objected. “According to calculations, we can go faster without weakening the force shields' protective properties.”

“How d’you know?”

Simeon smiled. “Arithmetic.”

“You're good at mental calculations, then?”

Simeon shrugged, watching the leaden cloud castles whirl to his right, discharging bolts of lightning that hit the gray haze. The claps of thunder rocked the shuttle quite perceptibly.

Jedian struggled to keep his cool. Just think that only two weeks ago he could have decided this brat's fate! Who did he think he was? Had he destroyed his memory crystal there and then, the
Io
would have disappeared in the depths of space as it should, a worthless piece of scrap metal!

But now it was too late, he thought glaring at Simeon's back. If that demented idiot Vorontsov made him his heir, Jedian couldn't stop him. Should he maybe strangle the kid now?

Momentarily Jedian indulged in the idea, only to recover the next minute at the thought of all possible consequences. If he as much as touched a hair of Simeon's head, the admiral would skin him alive. For him, this kid was a ghost of his irredeemable past. The old fool had decided to strike a deal with his own conscience.

Wait a sec, he stopped himself. Did Simeon actually know who had sentenced his adoptive father to a certain death, abandoning him on that ship's fragment? And how sure were they that Simeon was indeed Andrei's son?

Jedian shuddered with the thought. He turned his head. Simeon perched himself on the edge of the control panel, watching their progress across the sky. Jedian's thoughts resumed their course. Actually, Simeon's mother was absent from his memories. Were there really any women among the survivors?

Yeah, right. Even if he was who he was pretending to be, it was well worth planting a few doubts in grandfather's mind. Of course! It was Jedian's duty to make sure the two confronted each other. Knowing the Admiral's character, the outcome could be impressive.

Jedian felt he was on the right path. Asking for the boy's DNA test might not be a bad idea, either.

Simeon looked as if he was trying to second-guess him. "I've interfered in your life," he said without turning round, "but if you think that I want Vorontsov's money, you're wrong."

Jedian clutched the armrests of his seat. He was too much!

Simeon turned to him. "We simply wanted to get back, don't you understand?" his voice rang with bitterness. "It was all the same to us where to, we just wanted to see people."

"You were lucky to reach Rory's system," Jedian croaked, unable to restrain himself anymore. "That's the only reason you're still alive! Any idea what could have happened to you had you arrived at any other planet? You would have starved to death! Your stinking robot would have been scrapped, and as for Yanna, she would have never regained consciousness because you'd have been unable to pay for her treatment! Who do you think you are?" Jedian stood up in his seat. "Look around you. The world is crawling with bums like yourself! Why should anyone help you? Why should they feel sorry for you? There are thousands of starving children on any planet, dying without help from anyone!"

Simeon's face turned gray. "I need neither your world nor your money," he repeated. "You're all raving mad if you can watch your children starve and die. You'll exterminate yourselves."

"Then why are you going to Stellar?" Jedian shouted.

"That's none of your business. I need to see Vorontsov."

"Aha, so you admit you recognize the power of money. Without it, you're nothing. Do you know that it was Admiral Vorontsov who left his own son — your father! — there to die? Think I'm imagining it? Go check the archives, it's all there! He abandoned his son on a ship's fragment in exchange for a nice little career for himself ! In exchange for his money!"

"Stop it!" Simeon shouted. "I know it."

Jedian opened his eyes wide and sank back in his seat, totally confused. "Do you?" he asked.

Simeon was deadly pale. "I read my father's diaries," he answered. "Don't you worry: I know perfectly well what I've come back to."

He headed for the exit, but lingered in the doorway. "Just don't get Yanna into this mess," he said. "Keep yourself in check, at least until we reach Stellar. This is my sole request." The door closed.

Furious, Jedian punched the instrument board. "I'm going to show everyone what you're like," he hissed through his clenched teeth.

The gray haze of the monitors was replaced by a violet-black abyss with Stellar sparkling amid it.

The shuttle had entered outer space.

* * *

Time hung heavy on Jedian's hands. Finally the shuttle was docked with the personal spacecraft of the Admiral. Its little crew attended to Simeon and his companion.

Without paying attention to anybody, Jedian passed straight to his cabin equipped in the same way as was the laboratory on Stellar.

Jedian had firmly decided to fight to the end.

While the automatic system was establishing a connection with Stellar, he took out a duplicate of the crystal disc and inserted it into the disc drive of an on-board computer.

Simeon's memories had not been deciphered in their entirety.

Jedian was surprised at himself. He had always been so balanced, had calculated his moves so well while keeping his eyes on the prize. Not this time. The sudden crash of his hopes had unsettled him.

He had to pace himself, Jedian kept repeating.

His hand lay onto the keyboard. He lingered with sending a landing request to Stellar. Instead, he ordered a coffee and was deep in the analysis of Simeon's memories that the on-board computer was reading out for him from the crystal disc.

He was working as he never had before. Like a wolf sensing a prey nearby, he was going deeper and yet deeper into the surreal world of mental images, aiming to reach the very first, still semiconscious imprints. It wasn't easy. Even the perfect processors of the twenty-eighth century often proved powerless when faced with the mysteries of a human brain. The crystal disc now contained a few pieces of very special software designed in Stellar's secret laboratories. They were mainly intended for mnemonic interrogations.

It had been the pinnacle of his work. Jedian Lange's very own creation.

Ten years ago on Vorontsov's orders all battle spacesuits of the Confederation's Fleet had been equipped with special scanners. They recorded the electric pulses of the astronaut's cortex. Every day thousands of disks with these records arrived on Stellar, destined for Jedian's laboratories. Gradually, he'd created a unique database. The analysis of some entries allowed the identification of certain impulses as feelings or visual images.

His ten years' worth of hard work was now represented by the graphs running across the screen. They crossed to form a complex pattern; the computer was analyzing it while drawing an initially vague image that was gradually becoming more and more precise. The images on the screen were coming to life.

Now and then the images were accompanied by a running text line that represented the astronaut's thoughts. Normally, Jedian stopped the process and moved on to the next image whenever he realized that the memory had something to do with the gloom and chaos of the cemetery of spacecraft.

He was searching for something else.

And he did find it. Forty minutes later he leaned back in his chair, pale and exhausted, clutching the armrests with his trembling fingers. Got it. Just what he'd been looking for.

Simeon hadn't been born at the ships' cemetery.

He sat huddled. The boulders exuded cold. The boy's tiny body gradually succumbed to exposure. Finally, it stopped quivering. A blue grass blade quivering in the breeze, the sound of heavy footsteps, the rattle of metal — these were the things he remembered. Inside him, resentment grew toward the warm world which had suddenly become cold and strange.

It was the earliest of Simeon's memories, and it explicitly proved that he'd been born on a planet. To top it all, the weird purple-hued grass could possibly indicate his home!

Jedian pulled himself together. He switched on a text encoder and started typing the first lines of a report to the Admiral. There was a feverish and almost insane gleam in his eyes.

* * *

The officer on duty took Simeon and Yanna to the visitors' cabin.

They found themselves in a spherical room, the walls and ceiling of which represented huge screens offering a full telescopic view. They could control the picture, zooming parts of it in and out and changing the viewing angle. The soft seats and folding couches by the little carved tables were screwed to the floor and stuffed with sensitive electronics; no sound penetrated the cabin, and only the movement of stars on the screen and the rare flashes of directional thrusters betrayed the ship's movement.

Yanna sat down in a chair and glanced sideways at Simeon who leaned over the computer's terminal. In the last few hours he hadn't said a word. She couldn't understand why he'd changed so much. Having awoken in the life support center on Rory, she'd found herself surrounded by the stuff of their dreams — the dreams that had always dwelt in their hearts. Then, why was Simeon so gloomy? Certainly she knew about the combat on board the
Io
, but all's well that ends well. Hadn't he had to fight battle machines day in, day out when they'd lived on the Island?