[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

Which it was for its size the most complicated robot-type the science of Vega
and her allies had yet developed.
"Two armed space-craft, Lycannese destroyer-type, attempting interception!" it
announced. After the barest possible pause, it added: "Instructions?"
Iliff grinned a little without raising his head. No one else would have
noticed anything unusual in the stereotyped warning, but he had been living
with that voice for some fifteen years.
"Evasion, of course, you big ape!" he said softly. "You'll have had all the
fighting you want before you're scrapped."
His grin widened then, at a very convincing illusion that the ship had
shrugged its sloping and monstrously armored shoulders in annoyed response.
That, however, was due simply to the little leap with which the suns of
Lycanno vanished from the tank in the abruptness of full forward acceleration.
In effect, the whole ship was the robot a highly modified version of the
deadly one-man strike-ships of the Vegan battle fleet, but even more heavily
armed and thus more than qualified to take on a pair of Lycannese destroyers
for the split-second maneuverings and decisions, the whole slashing frenzy of
a deep-space fight. Its five central brains were constructed to produce, as
closely as possible, replicas of Iliff's own basic mental patterns, which made
for a nearly perfect rapport. Beyond that, of course, the machine was
super-sensed and energized into a truly titanic extension of the man.
Iliff did not bother to observe the whiplash evasion tactics which almost left
the destroyers' commanders wondering whether there had been any unidentified
spaceship recorded on their plates in the first place. That order was being
carried out much more competently than if he had been directing the details
himself; and meanwhile there was other business on hand the part of his job he
enjoyed perhaps least of all. A transmitter was driving the preliminary
reports of his actions on Lycanno Four across nearly half the galaxy to G.Z.
Headquarters Central on the planet of
Jeltad.
There, clerks were feeding it, in series with a few thousand other current
intermission reports, into more complex multiple-recorders, from which various
sections were almost instantaneously disgorged, somewhat cut and edited.
* * *
"She has not responded to her personal beam," the robot announced for the
second time.
"Sure she just wasn't able to get back at us?"
"There is no indication of that."
Page 21
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
"Keep it open then until she does answer," Iliff said. Personal telepathy at
interstellar ranges was always something of an experiment, unless backed at
both ends by mechanical amplifiers of much greater magnitude than were at
Pagadan's disposal.
"But I do wish," he grumbled, "I'd been able to find out what made the Ceetal
so particularly interested in Tahmey!
Saving him up, as host, for the next generation, of course. If he hadn't been
so touchy on that point " He scowled at the idly clicking transmitter before
him. Deep down in his mind, just on the wrong side of comprehension, something
stirred slowly and uneasily and sank out of his awareness again.
"Correlation ought to call in pretty soon," he reassured himself. "With the
fresh data we've fed them, they'll have worked out a new line on the guy."
"Departmental Lab is now attempting to get back on transmitter," the robot
informed him. "Shall I blank them out till you've talked with Correlation?"
"Let them through," Iliff sighed. "If we have to, we'll cut them off "
A staccato series of clicks conveying an impression of agitated inquiry, rose
suddenly from the transmitter. Still frowning, he adjusted light-scales,
twisted knobs, and a diminutive voice came gushing in mid-speech from the
instrument. Iliff listened a while; then he broke in impatiently.
"Look," he explained, "I've homed you the full recorded particulars of the
process they used. You'll have the stuff any minute now, and you'll get a lot
more out of that than I could tell you. The man I got it from was the only one
still alive of the group that did the job; but he was the one that handled the
important part the actual personality transfer.
"I cleared his mind of all he knew of the matter and recorded it, but all I
understood myself was the principle involved if that."
The voice interjected a squeaky, rapid-fire protest. Iliff cut in again
quickly:
"Well, if you need it now You're right about there not having been any
subjective switching of personalities involved, and I'm not arguing about
whether it's impossible. These people just did a pretty complete job of
shifting everything that's supposed to make up a conscious individual from one
human body to another. From any objective point of view, it looks like a
personality transfer.
"No, they didn't use psychosurgery," he went on. "Except to fill in a
six-months' sequence of memory tracts to cover the interval they had Tahmey
under treatment. What they used was a modification of the electronic method of
planting living reflex patterns in robot brains. First, they blanked out
Tahmey's mind completely neutralized all established neural connections and so
on, right down to the primary automatic reflexes."
"The `no-mind' stage?" Lab piped.
"That's right. Then they put the Lycannese Deel in a state of mental stasis.
They'd picked him because of his strong physical resemblance to Tahmey."
"That," Lab instructed him sharply, "could have no effect on the experiment as
such. Did they use a chemical paralyzing agent to produce the stasis?"
"I think so. It's in the report "
"You Zone Agents! How long did they keep the two nerve systems linked?"
"About six months."
"I see. Then they broke the flow and had a complete copy of the second
subject's neural impulse paths stamped into the first subject's nervous
system. Re-energized, the artificial personality would pick up at the exact
point it entered mental stasis and continue to develop normally from there on.
I see, I see, I see . . . but what happened to the second subject Deel?"
"He died in convulsions a few seconds after they returned him to
consciousness."
Lab clicked regretfully. "Usual result of a prolonged state of mental
stasis and rather likely to limit the usefulness of the process, you know.
Now, there are a few important points "
Page 22
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
"Correlation!" the robot said sharply into Iliff's mind.
The squeaky voice thinned into an abrupt high whistle and was gone.
* * *
"I'm here, Iliff! Your friend and guide, Captain Rashallan of Correlation,
himself. You haven't started to close in on that Tahmey bird yet, have you?
You aren't anywhere near him yet?" [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]