In a fit of enthusiastic madness I created a rational creature and was bound towards him to assure, as far as was in my power, his happiness and well-being. This was my duty, but there was another still paramount to that. My duties towards the beings of my own species had greater claims to my attention because they included a greater proportion of happiness or misery.
- Dr. Frankenstein Speaks, Shiprecords
THOMAS STRETCHED himself in the hammock of a cell and watched a fly creep its way across his ceiling. There were no ports in this cell, no chrono. He had no way of estimating the time.
The fly skirted the protrusion of a sensor eye.
"So we brought you, too." Thomas spoke aloud to the fly. "It wouldn't surprise me to find a few rats skulking around this place. Non-human rats, that is."
The fly stopped and rubbed its wings. Thomas listened. There was a steady stream of footsteps up and down the passage outside his locked hatch. It had been locked from the outside, no handle in here.
He knew he was somewhere within Oakes' infamous Redoubt, the fortress outpost on Black Dragon. They had taken all of his clothing, every possession, leaving him with a poorly fitted green singlesuit.
"Quarantine!" he snorted, still talking aloud. "At Moonbase we called it 'the hole.'"
Some of those footsteps outside were running. Everything was rush-rush here. He wondered what was happening. What was going on over at Colony? Where had they taken Waela? They had told him he was headed for debriefing. It turned out to be a quick once-over by a strange med-tech and isolation in this cell. Quarantine! Before they had closed the hatch, he had glimpsed a sign across the way: "Lab One." So they had a Lab One here, to.... or they had moved the other one from Colony.
He was aware of the sensor eye prying at him from the ceiling. The cell was spartan - the hammock, a fixed desk, a sink, an old-style composting toilet without seat.
Once more, he looked at the fly. It had progressed to the far corner of the cell.
"Ishmael," he said. "I think I'll call you Ishmael."
...his hand will be against every man and every man's hand against him, and he shall dwell in the presence of all his brethren.
Ship's unmistakable presence filled Thomas' head so suddenly that he clapped his hands over his ears in reflex.
"Ship!" He closed his eyes and found that he was near tears. I can't give in to hysteria! I can't!
Why not, Devil? Hysteria has its moments. Particularly among humans.
"There isn't time for hysteria." He opened his eyes, brought his hands away from his ears, and spoke in the general direction of the ceiling sensor. "We have to solve Your problem of WorShip. They won't listen to me. I'll have to take direct action."
Ship was relentless: Not MY problem! Your problem.
"My problem, then. I'm going to share it with the others."
It is time to talk of endings, Raj.
He glared at the sensor, as though that were the origin of the presence in his head.
"You mea.... break the recording?"
Yes, it is the time of times.
Was that sadness in Ship?
"Must You?"
Yes.
So Ship really meant it. This was not just another diversion, another replay. Thomas closed his eyes, feeling his voice go slack in his throat, his mouth dry. He opened his eyes and the fly was gone.
"Ho.... long do w.... how long?"
There was a noticeable pause.
Seven diurns.
"That's not enough! I might do it in sixty. Give me sixty diurns. What's such a sliver of time to You?"
Just that, Raj: a sliver. Annoying, the way it works its way into the most sensitive area. Seven diurns, Raj, then I must be about other business.
"How can we discover the right way to WorShip in seven diurns? We haven't satisfied You for centuries an...."
The kelp is dying. It has seven diurns until extinction. Oakes thinks it will be longer, but he is mistaken. Seven diurns, then, for you all.
"What will You do?"
Leave you to the certainty that you will wipe yourselves out.
Thomas leaped from his hammock, shouted: "I can't do anything about it in here! What do You expect fro.... ?"
"You in there! Thomas!"
It was a male voice from a hidden vocoder. Thomas thought he recognized the voice of Jesus Lewis.
"Is that you, Lewis?"
"Yes. Who are you talking to?"
Thomas looked up at the sensor in the ceiling. "I have to talk to Oakes."
"Why?"
"Ship is going to destroy us."
Let you destroy yourselves. The correction was gentle but firm in his awareness.
"Was that what you were shouting about? You think you were talking to the ship?" There was derision in Lewis' tone.
"I was talking to Ship! Our WorShip is all wrong. Ship demands that we learn how t...."
"Ship demands! The ship is about to be put in its proper place, a functiona...."
"Where's Waela?" He shouted it in desperation. He had to have help. Waela might understand.
"Waela's pregnant and she's been sent shipside to the Natali. We don't have birthing facilities here yet."
"Lewis, please listen to me, please believe. Ship awakened me from hyb to put you all on notice. You don't have much time left t...."
"We have all the time in this world!"
"That's it! And this world has only seven more diurns. Ship demands that we learn the proper WorShip befor...."
"WorShip! We can't waste time on such nonsense. We have to make a whole planet safe to live on!"
"Lewis, I have to talk to Oakes."
"You think I'm going to bother the Ceepee with your babblings?"
"You forget that I'm a Ceepee."
"You're insane and you're a clone."
"Unless you listen to me, you're headed for destruction. Ship will break th.... it will be the end of humankind forever."
"I have my orders about you, Thomas, and I'm going to obey them. There's only room for one Ceepee here."
The hatch behind Thomas popped open and he whirled to see the yellow dayside lights of the passage framing an E-clone sentry there - giant head, round black hole for a mouth, huge arms that hung nearly to his ankles. The eyes were glaring red and bulbous.
"You!" A growling voice issued from the round black hole. "Out here!"
One of the massive hands reached in, closed around Thomas' neck and jerked him out into the passage.
"WorShip. We have to learn how to WorShip," Thomas croaked.
"I get tired a hearin' that WorShip crap," the sentry said. "You're movin' out." The sentry released his neck and gave Thomas a violent push down the passage.
"Where are we going? I have to talk to Oakes."
The sentry lifted one of his arms, pointed down the passage. "Out!"
"Bu.... ."
Another push sent Thomas stumbling. There was no resisting the strength of this clone. Thomas allowed himself to be herded down the passage. It curved to the right and ended at a locked hatch. The sentry took one of Thomas' arms in a relentless grip, opened the hatch. It swung wide to reveal the open ground of Pandora in the harsh cross-lighting of Alki swinging low on the horizon to his left. A sudden push from the clone sent Thomas sprawling into the open and took his breath away. He heard the hatch slam closed. Somewhere above him, he heard the distant fluting of a flock of hylighters.
They've sent me into the open to die!