"Take the message, Prue," Bickel said. "Visio."
Relays clicked as she shunted the AAT to Com-central. Presently, she said: "Short and sweet. Hempstead tells us to cease ignoring communications. We are ordered to turn back and make no mistake about it. Odd choice of words: 'This is an arbitrary turn-back command.'"
"He knows what he can do with his arbitrary turn-back command," Bickel said.
At the sound of Prudence's voice, Flattery had gone cold. The chill of ice water gripped his chest. "Arbitrary turn-back command." It was the coded order he had both dreaded and almost longed for - the "kill-ship" command.
"You, my creator, would tear me to pieces and triumph; remember that, and tell me why I should pity man more than he pities me? You would not call it murder if you could... destroy my frame, the work of your own hands."
WHILE TIMBERLAKE WORKED his way out through the access tubes toward Flattery, Bickel scanned the shop instruments, hunting for a clue to this behavior by the computer system. Every movement of light or dial, every automatic relay adjustment or swing of an instrument needle, sent fear through him. The lights were like eyes staring down at him.
As much to quiet his own fears as to help Flattery, he began to talk:
"Raj, have you done anything at all to pose a real threat to the computer system?"
"Quite the contrary. I've attempted to... work out the emotional program..."
"To make it care for us?"
"Yes. But I didn't insert any form of program."
Prudence intruded: "I think anything you do on this ship goes into the computer system."
"I agree." That was Bickel. "Specifically, what did you do?"
"Tried to show... it that I really care about it."
"That may be all that's keeping you alive right now," Bickel said.
Once more, Bickel scanned the shop panels. Not a clue there. Nothing!
Flattery's thoughts kept revolving around that order from Moonbase: Arbitrary turn-back command.
It had injected ice water into his veins.
"Kill ship!"
"Kill ship!"
It was a refrain chanted in his awareness.
A deep hypnotic command, he thought.
But he could not find it in himself to disobey. The rational arguments for this safety fuse were too compelling. The fate of all humankind was more important than the fate of one man... or of one ship.
Flattery felt his body knotted by frustration. Here he was out beyond the shields of the core. He had been conditioned to accept this order and execute it, sacrificing himself for the protection of the race. At this point, he couldn't muddy his mind with fanaticism. He knew the dangers to the human race from a runaway mechanical consciousness that nobody could...
A yell escaped him as something grabbed his leg.
"It's me, Raj."
Timberlake's voice. It filled Flattery's helmet phones, but he took a moment to accept the identification emotionally. His heart was still hammering as Timberlake pulled him past the next ring of sensors.
The nemesis robox increased its speed, maintained a distance of about three meters.
"Shall I burn it?" Timberlake whispered.
"Do nothing hostile," Flattery said.
The edge of the hub chamber entered Flattery's field of vision. Timberlake's hand released his ankle. Flattery felt the grating hump as the hatch to the inner lock was opened.
"In we go," Timberlake said. He gave Flattery a gentle tug as they drifted down into the hub chamber.
A lock stanchion came in front of Flattery and he grabbed it, feeling the inertial pull as he checked his motion. That following robox had stopped at the tube exit above them, but its sensor tip, remained pointed at them. Timberlake moved in front of him, cutting off the view of the robox. Flattery backed down through the lock's baffle angle, Timberlake following. The hatch was closed. Timberlake dogged it, turned.
Flattery crossed to the other hatch, breathing easier now that they were behind the shields and with a hatch between them and that robox. He grabbed the hatch dogs, twisted.
They remained firmly locked.
He applied more pressure.
The dogs wouldn't budge.
"Come on, let's go," Timberlake said. He added his hands to the effort.
The dogs remained seated as though frozen.
Flattery and Timberlake looked at each other, their faceplates almost touching. Flattery's hands felt slippery with perspiration inside his gloves. He could smell the stink of fear within his suit.
"Go... try the other hatch," Flattery said.
Timberlake nodded, kicked back up to the baffle and the hatch they had just dogged. Flattery could see Timberlake's muscles lift the shoulders of the suit with the effort of trying to reopen the other hatch.
It was obvious the other hatch also was blocked.
Timberlake dropped back down beside him, thumbed the command circuit switch beneath his helmet. "John."
"John's temporarily off the circuit," Prudence said. "You're out of danger... immediate danger, aren't you?"
In short, clipped sentences, Timberlake reported their situation.
"Trapped?" she asked. "How could you be?"
"Something's jammed the hatches," Flattery said. "Why's John off the circuit?"
"Oh..." Pause. "He left his helmet... down there. He just yanked it off, unplugged, grabbed up a bunch of equipment and headed for quarters."