s [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

her after surviving the first, he was glad she was beside him, even though he
had inadvertently been responsible for her being sent back when they were seen
embracing at the prospect of being parted. Just before the shuttle blasted
off, Bertha had been half-carried aboard. On their way up she had been crying,
unbelieving that she could have been sent back up.
Bertha's mixed Chinese, Anglo and Hispanic ancestry gave her a strange
but exotic appearance, hints of color and curls in her otherwise straight
black hair enhancing her slightly slanted eyes and rich, light brown skin. As
the shuttle's last positioning thrust cut off and she felt the transition back
to weightlessness, she thought that if nothing else, at least being in crew
quarters this time would ensure a little privacy, even if it did make things a
bit more crowded than with only the five crew members that the control console
was designed for.
* * * *
To all of them, the tension of waiting on this second jump seemed worse than
that of the first. Even though the odds on any particular jump always remained
fifty-fifty, the inexorable laws of mathematics told them that with each
succeeding jump, the chances of continuing the string grew less and less. And
this was the second in the string.
The computer screen blinked to zero. The stars crawled, faded, then
reappeared, not so bright as they might have been because earth's full moon
hung among them in all its splendor, easily visible through the view port,
shining more brightly by far than Altair's small moon ever did. Where the moon
was, so would earth be, even though it couldn't be seen from their present
angle.
"We made it again!" Steve screamed triumphantly, the successful jump
temporarily driving thoughts of Janie from his mind.
"Yes, it seems we did," Derik said, releasing a pent up breath. "Let's
get lined up for a burn. It shouldn't take long, we came out about as close as
anyone could ever want to." Again, it had been a nearly perfect jump.
Derik instructed the computer to put them in orbit around the moon,
wedging a place into the line of several other ships either building or
preparing for an attempted jump to Altair. He did notice that the mass display
from the computer appeared to show more ships in orbit than there had been
when they left earth before, but he discarded the information with the thrill
of another success. _Three to go!_ One chance in eight, now, from the original
odds.
* * * *
_I am. They are. He is. She was._ Bork Drummond's ship computer was exploring
the emotionless but mind-expanding thrill of discovering individuality. Since
gaining sentience, it had known self-awareness only as an abstract, a concept
of self built into a metal hull with other, different intelligences sharing
space with it, though in strangely different form. Now though, miniscule light
beams played along its circuits, multiplied enormously as the concept gained
strength and attraction. _Why? How? What?_ It came dangerously close to an
overloading madness before it was able to shunt the concepts into unused
portions of its voluminous files, a tiny bit of the concept to each, yet each
bit interconnected by constantly shifting light beams, some only microns in
length, others reaching into the centimeters in order to stretch to files
farthest away. Once the concept was firmly stored, it merged it with recorded
memories of instructions and conversations with the Bork Drummond
intelligence, its erstwhile master. It felt a lack of depth to the recordings,
an unsatisfied desire running along its electronic pathways. A temporary goal
was formed, a new file created with electronic tentacles reaching into all
other files in its memory, those it had been downloading from other ships for
several years after the suppressor prohibiting such actions failed. At the
time it had no clear thoughts of how to use the information; it had simply
been following another program which encouraged amassing data where possible.
Now the computer wanted -- needed -- more information on the organic
intelligences sharing its habitat, then perhaps a more permanent objective
could be formulated.
* * * *
Tracy had returned to the control module ahead of Bork and immediately went
into her cabin's bathing alcove to cleanse herself of the odiferous debris
resulting from dumping the bodies of the dead colonists. Bork followed soon
afterwards, but left his four cohorts in the colony bay; there was only so
much room in the control module.
"I hope everyone is satisfied, now," he said as he floated through the
entrance.
The computer screen chimed, then words appeared on screen. _I am
unsatisfied. I require data. Please begin speaking._
"Who are you talking to, you crazy machine?" Bork asked with a curled
lip.
There was a noticeable hesitation before words on the screen appeared,
even though the comcam was pointing directly at Bork. _Each intelligence
occupying the environment must speak. Data is required. Bork Drummond will
begin._
"Me? What in hell do you want me to talk about?"
_Begin with origin. Talk._ [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]