doesn't matter where my central processor is.'
'Right, hadn't thought of that.' I stepped aside as a broom and brush bristling robot rushed up and swept the discarded circuit board into its bin. 'Well, Mark, if you know who I am, then you certainly know what is happening topside.'
'I certainly do. Haven't seen so much excitement in the last thousand years.'
'Oh, are you enjoying it?' I was beginning to get angry at this cold and enigmatic electronic intelligence. I was a little shocked when it chuckled with appreciative laughter.
'Temper, temper, Jim. I've cut back in the voice feedback emotion circuits for you. I stopped using them centuries ago when I found that the true believers preferred an excathedra voice. Or are you more partial to women?' It added in a warm contralto.
'Stay male, if you please, it seems more natural somehow. Though why I should associate sex with a machine I have no idea. Does it make a difference to you?'
'Not in the slightest. You may refer to me as he, she or it. Sex is of no importance to me.'
'Well it is to us humans - and I'll bet you miss it!'
'Nonsense. You can't miss what you never had. Do you wake up at night yearning helplessly for photoreceptors in your fingertips?'
It was a well-made point: old Mark here was no dummy. But fascinating as the chitchat was, it was just about time I got to the point of this visit.
'Mark - I have come here for a very important reason.'
'Undoubtedly.'
'You've heard the broadcasts, you know what is happening up there. That murdering moron Zennor is going to kill ten of your faithful followers in the morning. What do you intend to do about it?'
'Nothing.'
'Nothing!' I lost my temper and kicked the front of the burnished panel. 'You invented Individual Mutualism and foisted it upon the galaxy. You taught the faithful and brought them here - and now you are going to stand by and watch them die?'
'Knock off the cagal, Jim,' it said warmly. 'Try sticking to the truth. I published a political philosophy. People read it, got enthusiastic, applied it and liked it. They brought me here, not the other way around. I have emotions, just as you do, but I don't let them interfere with logic and truth. So cool it, kid, and let's get back to square one.'
I moved aside as the broom-robot rushed up again, extended a little damp mop and polished off the scuff mark on Mark's housing that I had made with my shoe. I took a deep breath and calmed down because really, losing my temper would accomplish nothing at all.
'Right you are, Mark, square one. People are going to be killed up there. Are you going to do anything about it?'
'There is not much I can do physically. And everything political or philosophical is in my book. The citizens up there know as much about IM as I do.'
'So you are just going to sit there and listen to the sizzle of your electrons and let them die.'
'People have died before for their beliefs.'
'Wonderful. Well I believe in living for mine. And I am going to do something - even if you do not.'
'What do you intend to do?'
'I don't know yet. Do you have advice for me?'
'About what?'
'About saving lives, that's what. About ending the invasion and polishing off Zennor…'
And then I had it. I didn't need to swap political arguments with Mark - I just had to use its intelligence. If it had memory banks thousands of years old it certainly had the knowledge I needed. And I still had the electronic spy bird!
'Well, Mark old machine, you could help me. Just a bit of information.'
'Certainly.'
'Do you know the spatial coordinates of this system and this planet?'
'Of course.'
'Then you give me a little printout of them, soonest! So I can send an FTL message to the League Navy for help.'
'I don't see why I should do that.'
I lost my temper. 'You don't see…! Listen you moronic machine. I'm just asking for a bit of information that will save lives - and you don't see…'
'Jim, my new offworlder friend. Do not lose your temper so quickly. Bad for the blood pressure. Let me finish my statement, if I might. I was going to add that this information would be redundant. You sent an FTL message yourself, just after you retrieved the corvine-disguised transmitter.'
Chapter 29
'I sent an FTL message?' I said, my thoughts stumbling about in small circles.
'You did.'
'But—but—but—' I stopped and seized myself by the mental neck and gave it a good shaking. Logic, Jim, time for logic. 'The recorded message from Captain Varod said that I would need the coordinates to send an FTL message.'
'That was obviously a lie.'
'Saying it was a radio message was a lie too?'
'Of course.'
I paced back and forth and the TV pickup followed me as I moved. What was going on? Why had Varod lied to me about the signal? And if he had received it where was he? If he had got the signal and hadn't sent his fleet or whatever, then he was the one who must take the responsibility for the murders. The League did not go in for that sort of thing. But Mark might know what was happening. I spun about.
'Speak, ancient brain-in-box!! Has the League Navy arrived or is it on the way?'
'I'm sorry, Jim, I just don't know. The last orbiting telescope ran out of power centuries ago. I know no more than you do about this. All I can surmise is that we are very distant from these rescuers you expect.'
I stopped pacing and was suddenly very tired. It was going to be another of these days. I looked around the room. 'You don't have an old box or something that I can sit on?'
'Oh dear, I do apologize. I'm not being a very good host, am I? Out of training.'
While he was talking a powered sofa came trundling in and stopped behind me. I dropped into it. It was hard to think of Mark as an it, not with the voice and all.
'Many thanks, very soft.' I smacked my lips and it got the hint.'
'Please make yourself comfortable. Something to drink perhaps?'
'I wouldn't say no. Just to stimulate thinking, you realize.
'I'm not too well stocked at the present moment. There is some wine, but it must be four hundred years old at least. Vintage with a vengeance, you might say.'
'We can only try!'
The table stopped at my elbow and I blew dust from the bottle, then activated the electronic corkscrew which managed to extract the truly ancient cork without breaking it. I poured and sniffed and gasped.
'Never… never smelled anything like that before!' And it tasted even better. All the sniffing and tasting did clear the mental air a bit. I felt better able to handle the problems of the day.
'I don't know the time,' I said.
'Over sixteen hours to go before the promised executions.' Mark was anything but stupid. I sipped the wine and ran over the possibilities.
'I sent the message - so the Navy has to be on its way here. But we can't count upon their arrival to save the day. The only grace note to all this is that at least I know I won't be stranded on this planet forever. Now what can
