Neal Asher - Zero Point (Owner Trilogy 2)

Alex shook his head. ‘That would have been Alexandra’s expectation. She would have bargained with you similarly. She would have expected to be picked up by the Scourge , but found herself ignored.’

‘And your own expectation?’

‘I will use the cryogenic suspension pods on board,’ he said, ‘and at some time in the future the plane will be picked up, maybe in better times.’

‘So you know about them,’ remarked Saul.

‘I know about them,’ Alex agreed.

‘What makes you think I won’t destroy that plane the moment it is clear of this station?’ Saul asked.

‘Because I will release you. Because you gain no advantage by using up energy or projectiles to kill me, especially when such resources might be better employed in getting this drive up to speed or defending this station against the Scourge .’

‘That seems . . . reasonable.’

‘Then send your robots away. Send away that spidergun I see lurking in the corridor behind you.’

Saul glanced back at the spidergun, then, careful to telegraph his moves, gently propelled himself from the platform towards Alex, seeking to get closer. As soon as he caught hold of the scaffolding, he slowly raised a hand in a gesture of dismissal. The robots began to withdraw and the spidergun in the corridor retreated out of sight, as Saul towed himself even closer. Then he spoke out loud, ‘Langstrom, bring Messina to his space plane,’ though the words never actually reached Langstrom. However this turned out, Saul’s main aim was to get that weapon pointed away from the hardware.

‘That’s close enough,’ said Alex.

Absolutely right, had Saul possessed merely human reactions and human speed. Even at that moment he was consciously controlling every aspect of his body, oxygenating his blood, ensuring nutrients were in place, increasing his heart rate and adrenalin levels and calculating the precise moves he must make. All he needed now was for Alex to turn that weapon towards him.

‘You know that I was made almost incapable of being disloyal to the Chairman,’ said Alex. ‘I was indoctrinated to protect him at all costs, including that of my life. However, I have been alive a long time for one of our kind, and I have also been a long time away from reprogramming.’

Why was he saying this?

Alex continued, ‘Even when I came here, I was still functioning on that basis but only now have I understood the futility of my position. I cannot any longer save the Chairman, because he no longer exists. He is now no more what he used to be than that creature that entered my hydroponics unit is still Delegate Vasiliev. The purpose of my existence is over.’

Something was going badly wrong and just for a second Saul could not understand what it was. He needed to slow this down, calm it.

‘So what is it you want, Alex?’

‘I’m not as trusting as Alexandra was. She would have been easy for you to manipulate, and would have died the moment she left this room. I, however, know I will not be leaving this room alive.’

Saul understood in that instant, and realized he should have guessed it the moment he saw Alex had removed his space helmet and gauntlets. The purpose for which Alex had been shaped was gone, but human motives like vengeance remained. A sheer bloody-minded and suicidal response could therefore not be overruled. Saul launched himself at the man just as the weapon crackled, chunks of plastic, silicon and optics zinging away as its bullets turned the control circuits to ruin.

Forty bullets fired . . .

The rifle swung up towards Saul even as his right hand speared at Alex’s throat. Saul pulled back, turned, and clamped his elbow down to trap the weapon’s barrel against his body. Alex tried to pull it free but Saul reached down, driving a thumb against the man’s trigger finger. The weapon crackled against his side, a searing sensation there, but the bullets impacting somewhere behind. The heel of a hand came up blindingly fast, hammering into Saul’s nose. Levering against the rifle he turned completely, bringing his elbow round and smashing it into the side of Alex’s head. The man turned away to avoid that, catching only part of the blow and spinning further to bring the rifle down like a club. It struck Saul’s upper arm, but without much force since by then Alex had released it, after realizing it was merely a hindrance to close-quarters combat.

Tight , Saul understood. Very tight.

Saul was fast, but so was this Alex. Neither of them telegraphed blows and at this range neither of them could get their blocks into place fast enough. Constricted by the surrounding scaffolding, there was also little room for them to separate. They ended up face to face, short powerful karate punches blurring between them as each tried to drive the other into a bad position.

Stop just responding. Calculate.

Time seemed to slow down as Saul’s thought processes speeded up. He could see that, though they were both managing to deliver solid blows, they weren’t delivering them with maximum effect – the padding and armour in their suits absorbing most of the impact. Saul altered the parameters for himself. Pull back on next strike, the block will drive it into the upper chest: pause – now. His next punch hit a floating rib, between bands of armour, and on the one after that, as Alex shifted his head aside to avoid it, Saul opened out a thumb. His fist grazed along Alex’s temple, but the thumb went straight into his eye. Weakening now, and a loss of depth perception. Saul turned as if evading yet another blow, but raised his leg and slammed his knee into his opponent’s thigh, behind the front pad of armour.

Alex’s next straight-fingered jab aimed at the point just below Saul’s ear missed entirely, and now it was all over. As he drove blow after blow into his opponent’s body, Saul also gazed through the senses of a spidergun, now back in range, as it etched out numerous target points. Other robots were returning to the room too. Alex meanwhile lowered his arms and Saul realized the other man was now waiting to die. Surely this was the next logical step: remove this impediment and then try to repair the damage here. But there was an objection partly within himself and partly distributed amidst all of his mind and those things fashioned by it.

Alex drifted backwards with his eyes closed, but as nothing happened he opened them. He spat blood, then snarled, ‘You must kill me!’

‘ An interesting problem ,’ whispered a voice in Saul’s mind.

‘ What would you suggest? ’ Saul asked without speaking.

‘ Reprogramming by reality is already underway ,’ replied Paul, now actually entering the transformer room. ‘ I suggest confrontation followed by a naturalistic approach. Direct intervention is not necessary. ’

‘Why?’ Saul asked out loud.

The proctor sailed across from the platform and landed on the scaffolding. It reached in with one long arm and snared Alex by his spacesuit, dragging him out like a rabbit out of a burrow.

‘When it is not necessary to kill,’ said Paul, ‘it is not necessary to kill.’

‘Take him, then,’ said Saul dismissively. Then he spoke directly to Langstrom’s fone: ‘You can forget about Messina now – we’ve got bigger problems.’ Then he turned to inspect the damage.

18

Suffer the Children

Before the twentieth century, increasing mechanization in industry was only seen as a boon by industry chiefs. Less outlay on labour of course meant more profit, and the only ones complaining were Luddites and could be ignored. In the twenty-first century, industries increasingly fell under the control of the state, while continuing mechanization and ‘social justice’ created an ever-growing underclass of the unemployed and unemployable. This class was generally kept under control by the media bread and circuses of the time, but the problems started with the growth in the number of people being displaced by increasingly ‘expert’ mechanization – people less easy to control. To manage this, the political classes chose to find employment for them, chose to bring them into the fold by creating a huge and pointless bureaucracy, but even that had its limits. It soon became evident that not all could be thus employed. It soon became evident that, in a population boom, too many educated people were available. The answer was simple: cripple education systems, allow the health and social professionals more of a free hand with the pacifying drugs, start damaging people even when they are children and ensure more of them end up in the more easily controlled underclass. However, even this has proved only a temporary solution, and it is certain that more drastic measures will need to be applied.