on the ground right next to the Simulacrum. To Chan s surprise, every frond on Angel’s bulky body went at once into agitated motion. The communications unit turned to face him.
“Before we begin to converse with the Simulacrum,” said Angel, “We wish to congratulate you — and each other. We are all in total agreement. This is a wonderful day. Chan, we are at last a
“And what a team!” added S’greela. “Do you not agree, Chan? We have performed wonderfully —
Shikari was still in process of re-assembly, but the surface of the Tinker shook in violent agitation. “Shikari agrees,” added S’greela. “And we are still improving! We will become better yet.”
Better!” Chan turned on the Pipe-Rilla. “What do you mean,
He stopped. The others were not listening to him, not one of them.
“Better,” said Angel cheerfully. “Much, much better! As we all know,
Chapter 27
Luther Brachis could feel the difference; in the guards at the Sargasso Dump, in Captain Ridley, most of all inside the nitrogen bubble that held the fragmented and etiolated brain of M-26A.
The hair bristled on the back of his neck. But he could not begin to explain the reason for his reaction as he reviewed the new project records.
Phoebe Willard appeared to be in full control of the project, and she was clearly enjoying herself mightily. Her report showed remarkable progress in communicating with M-26A. Already the brain remnant of the Construct had been fed enough data to allow a million questions to be asked and answered.
The change in Blaine Ridley, however, was most remarkable of all. The replacement eye no longer rolled in his head. His rebuilt jaw did not waggle constantly from side to side. When Brachis appeared in the bubble, Ridley stood to attention, saluted smartly, and said, “Ready to proceed, Commander. Interface has already been established for you.”
What would he have said and done a month ago? Writhed and jerked and stammered, and peed his pants. Ridley’s improvement was a cause for rejoicing. And yet …
“Very good, Captain. Dismissed.”
The inside of the bubble felt cold after Ridley had gone. It
There had to be another reason for his inner shiver, and surely it was both psychological and physical. He was squeezing this visit into a schedule that had no room for it, stealing sleep to make the local Link out to the Dump. And he would have to push himself even harder when he got back to Ceres.
He forced his attention to the keyboard, and typed a new input.
That was not a question, and Brachis knew better than to expect anything of M-26A unless he asked a direct inquiry. He typed on. You
It was a direct question. Brachis had been getting anything but direct answers. He was surprised at the reply.
Don’t stop now. Brachis typed:
That was direct enough for anyone, even if it was not the answer Brachis had hoped for.
Not encouraging, but also not surprising. Brachis had been pessimistic himself, which is why he had relied on information from M-26A to change the odds.
Except … wasn’t something a little strange in at least one part of the previous answer?
A Construct that was not just dangerous, but insane. That information certainly had to go to Esro Mondrian.
Brachis swore. He thought they were all done with that sort of nonsense. After three similar questions reached the same dead end, he typed in:
Which made no sense at all. It contradicted the earlier answer. But there was no stopping now.
There was a long pause. The display screen fragmented into spinning pools of light, and finally formed the words:
Another blind alley. Brachis tried the same question in a score of different ways, and got nowhere. He paused