The Sea is Full of Stars

about two billion years before. So advanced, so spoiled, so much like gods, it must have been the one thing they simply couldn’t cope with.

“Ming, who created this thing we spoke of?”

“Sir, I do not know, but it was done under contract to the Military Department and the Department of Pure Research.”

He wasn’t about to ask how the hell the Rithians managed to get somebody to steal it, nor what it had cost, but little wonder that it was so much in demand.

“Were you aboard the City of Modar because your superiors knew it was on there?”

“No, sir. I was simply to observe all activities of suspect group.”

He had assumed that. If they’d have known it was aboard, they’d have had an army hidden there.

“Ming—does the thing work?”

“Sir, I have no idea.”

Well, that was honest enough. He doubted she could lie anymore, unless told by Jules to do so. He was willing to bet that Jules didn’t think it would work. If he did, he’d never have traded it, not even for the Pleiades. Hell, who cared about even the most fabulous of treasures when you could will them into existence? And he certainly would not have put it in the hands of somebody like Hadun.

Well, at least now he knew. “Ming, you know you were once a police detective. Do you still consider yourself one?”

“No, sir. That description is no longer valid.”

“What if you had the opportunity to leave here. To walk out and away? Would you do it?”

“No, sir.”

That surprised him. “Why not?”

“Sir, my sole function is to serve the Master. I exist for no other purpose.”

“Ming, do you consider your master a good man?”

“Sir, I cannot answer that question.”

“Cannot or will not?”

“Cannot. Good is to serve the Master. Not good is to not serve the Master. How can the Master not serve himself?”

He realized with a start that he was completing her programming by simply asking these questions. He could see the trembling, the slight pleasure at the edges of the painted lips, and knew what was going on.

Abruptly, she stiffened. “Sir, there is a second shuttle in orbit now in the process of being cleared. The Master is aboard. We must meet him.”

“Yes, by all means,” he sighed, getting up. She led the way back to the airlock.

She knew the shuttle was coming in and who was on it, he reflected. That meant she was totally plugged in here. Totally. She couldn’t say anything wrong to his questions— wrong from the computer’s standpoint, anyway. If she had, she’d almost certainly have gotten an unpleasant jolt. But saying the right thing, without hesitation, brought the pleasure jolt. Pretty soon neither one of the women would even think any way but that. Too risky.

For Ming’s part, and Angel’s, too, since she’d heard the whole thing as if she were there, and both had also followed his research on what essentially was one of their databases anyway, the same conclusion was arrived at. How long could they not begin to exist for that? How long could they resist it? Did they want to resist? There was no hope of release, after all, and no hope of acting wrongly. Why, then, not think the right way and at least prevent pain? It would probably be better for both of them.

The inner airlock door hissed just as they arrived, then it opened and Jules Wallinchky walked through, dressed in casual clothes and smoking a big, fat cigar. Behind him by not more than a step were Sonya, the other beautiful bodyguard from the City of Modar, and a man unfamiliar to them, big and square-jawed, the kind with muscles on his muscles and an air that said he spent a lot of time working out in front of a mirror and admiring the view.

Wallinchky took the cigar out of his mouth and said, “Hello, Ari. I hate like hell to be rousted out by this petty shit, but business is business. Who knew that little creep had this kind of influence?” He stopped, spotting the doll- like duo, who had fallen to their knees and were now prostrate on the floor.

“Well, hel-lo,” he commented, going over to them. “Get up, girls. Let me take a look at you!”

They both hopped obediently to their feet and stood, expectant.

“Ain’t that somethin’,” Wallinchky muttered, reverting to an earlier, less cultured but more natural style of speech. “Ari, ain’t that somethin’? Amazin’ what a good fuck and a few clear instructions to a computer can do.”

Martinez swallowed and, like a good survivor, held his tongue from the remarks he wanted to make. “Yes, sir. I think it’s truly amazing. I have never seen the like of it, particularly in this short a time.”

“Yeah, I figured they would be the best test of this. I mean, hell, an older experienced cop and somebody raised as a religious fanatic? If I could get them, it would work with anybody. Not much fun, though. Not like Sonya and Veda and Sulliman, here. I do my personal servants, mistresses, and bodyguards myself. This—it kinda takes the creativity out of it.” He gave a chuckle. “Damn machines are taking over everything, aren’t they?”

“Um, yeah.”

“Well, I saved a little of it for me, anyway. I can make ’em do anything I want by just sayin’ the word and snappin’ my fingers, but I don’t just want ’em to do it, I want ’em to want to do it. To live just to do it. For me. An ex-cop and an ex-nun who exist only for me. And they’re only the first, Ari. I got a bunch of folks I can see doin’ this way.”

“I hope I’m not one of them, sir!” Ari responded a bit nervously.

Jules Wallinchky roared with laughter and slapped his back. “Not yet, boy! Not yet! I need smart folks who can think for themselves too much! Just remember who you work for and we’ll always get along fine.”

“You’re my uncle. I don’t believe in going after family.”

That got another big laugh. “All right, nephew!” He turned to his two companions. “You two go off and relax now. I don’t need bodyguards in here, and I got a couple here that I really want to play with.” He turned back to Ming and Angel. “Okay, you two! Come along! I want you with me for a while.”

Angel was in particular distress because she couldn’t bring herself to give in quite that easily but felt helpless and particularly forlorn without Ming’s reinforcement. Everything seemed to be slipping, and so fast…

They went into the big man’s study once more, and if Wallinchky noted that it had recently been used, he didn’t betray the knowledge, or perhaps just didn’t care. “You know, I got to think of something to call these two,” he said casually. “Ming—well, sounds too damned much like one of my antique Chinese vases. We need one that’s less personal, more like what she is.”

“You’re making them sound like prototypes,” Ari responded uneasily.

“Well, maybe they are. Trouble is, women make better art subjects than classical artists as far as I’m concerned, and if I use Venus and Madonna, I’ve already exhausted the naming pool. May as well go with the practical, then.” He suddenly brightened. “Yeah. Prototypes. I like that. At least it’ll sound pretty classy.” He turned and looked straight into Angel’s eyes. “Memory command Rembrandt. From this moment on, you are Alpha,” he told her. “You have no other names. Search and replace any and all names for yourself with ‘Alpha.’ ”

Ari just sighed. So he was even taking their names away from them, and the sense of identity they brought. If there was anything of them left, it would be a devastating blow to whatever sense of self was left.

Wallinchky turned to Ming. “And you—well, you’re shorter and smaller, so you got to be Beta. Memory command Rembrandt. From now on you are Beta. Search and replace any and all names for self with ‘Beta.’ Search and replace all alternate names for Alpha, replace with ’Alpha.’ Search and replace all alternate names for Beta. Replace with ’Beta.’ Execute all commands.” He turned back to his nephew. “Alpha and Beta. I kinda like it. What do you think, Ari?”