Homesick
Chapter Sixty-Five - The Escape Clause

Ian stared at the dull red planet in the window of the mess hall, tracking it with his eyes as it drifted up the window and out of sight. He then waited for it to resurface at the bottom when the ship rotated to face it again.

“Bloody gyro!”

“It does give you a headache after a while, doesn’t it?” Sally agreed, sipping a juice globe. “We’ve got pictures of the planet, though.”

“I know,” he grumbled. “I guess I just wanted to look out the window is all.”

“Sorry, Ian. How did the survey look?”

“Fabulous, geologically speaking. Planet Calisto is quite an oddity. Solid core, but almost completely composed of metals. Like a giant ball bearing, in fact. A dense little bugger, too! Probably contains more ore than every claim wedge in the belt.”

“Who came up with ‘Calisto?’ did they ever say?”

Ian shrugged. “God knows, but I’ll bet every mining company is in on the negotiations, so they had to call it something.”

“Did they name our ringed gas giant yet?”

He grinned. “Last I knew, they were still deliberating. Since we technically discovered it, we get to suggest a name, but the whole UN along with the rest of the world and its brother seem to have a vote on the final selection, most probably to prevent us from accidentally naming it a cuss word in some North African dialect or some such thing. I don’t know if it’ll be ‘Merryfield Buds,’ ‘Buds Merryfield,’ ‘Merrybud,’ ‘Budsmery,’ or, my favorite, ‘Sallian.’”

Sally chuckled. “Ironic that Calisto’s seen as such a hot property, but the bureaucrats are more concerned about naming Sallian.”

“It’ll be more interesting when they start making claims. I wonder how long it’ll take people to work out that Calisto won’t exactly be a cakewalk to mine.”

“Gravity,” Sally agreed.

“Not like mining asteroids. Over twice the gravity of Earth. It’ll be a hard sell at best. They’ll probably end up thinking space elevator. Either way, it’d take a lifetime to set up!”

“Not my cup of tea,” Sally said, turning back to her hand-held.

“But the survey did indicate that a few of those moons might be rich enough to whet their appetites. Still harder than mining asteroids, but a little easier than mining on Earth. I doubt there’ll be much interest in Sallian,” he remarked with a yawn. “Unless we want to set up another gas mine. Of course, it’s not like we’ll ever exhaust Jupiter and Saturn.”

“Well, at least our planet’s nicer to look at than Calisto,” she said with a playful smile.

Ian sat down with his tin and began to pick through it.

“Any luck with Angela?”

“Talked to her this morning, in fact.” He grinned.

“Did it go well?”

He shrugged. “Yes and no. I do wish I could understand her preoccupation with war.”

“More heroes’ welcomes?”

“Worse!” He rolled his eyes. “The old girl only got hold of one of the surveillance vids! You know, the bit when I had that row with the mistress.”

Sally looked up. “That shouldn’t have been available. Where’d she get that?”

He shrugged. “Somebody’s been leaking juicy bits like that onto the net for some time now. Most probably started with some bloke in the Space Commission downloading it legit, and then their teenaged kid spotted an opportunity to start a cottage industry of sorts. It wasn’t the actual row. I don’t think there was a record of that, thank God. Just that bit in the hallway. I don’t suppose that’s too bad.”

“I’m sorry, Ian, that must have been embarrassing. I’ll talk to the Commissioner about it. That stuff’s supposed to be confidential.”

Ian laughed. “Good luck! Commissioner Fontain isn’t exactly known for his heroic stands on our behalf. He’d probably start by denying it.” He clapped her on the shoulder. “Besides, we’re news, Sally! Soon all there really is to know about us will be coded on every net service in the Solar System. I do wish she wouldn’t be so taken with it, though. After all, I was roughing up an unarmed woman! At least that’s what it looks like.”

“Talk to your lawyer__”

“Solicitor!”

“Okay, solicitor! You can sue for damages if you can find out who started it.” She winked. “How about early retirement?”

But then they were both startled by an unexpected noise. It was unlike anything they would normally hear on the ship, yet it also sounded familiar. Hollow, but not metallic, like something thumping on a wooden surface. “Knock, knock, knock!”

“What?” Sally looked around, concerned.

“Can I come in?” Dr. Poole asked from nowhere.

“Oh, Tinkerbell!” Ian laughed. “By all means, come in!”

Dr. Poole appeared in front of them with an impatient expression. Sally looked back and forth from her to Ian, waiting for an explanation.

“Inside joke,” Poole said. “I need to talk to both of you!”

“Pull up a chair,” Ian offered.

Poole sat at the end of the table and faced them, looking from one to the other.

“Progress?” Sally asked.

“Yes, I may be on to something. I think I’ve found that loophole we’ve been looking for, but I need you to help me confirm it!”

“Go on.”

“Captain, it’s that girl you found on the planet. The one in the labor camp. The one you showed me.”

Sally’s face soured. “Do we have to talk about that?”

“I’m sorry, Captain, but this may be important. I need to know everything you can remember about that incident.”

Sally sighed. “Most of it’s in my report and it’s very accurately depicted in your model. You can look for yourself, can’t you?”

“I was just looking at it! Why didn’t you say in your report that she spoke to you?”

Sally thought for a moment. “I guess it didn’t seem that important. It was a lengthy report and we had the Masters to contend with. And I must admit I didn’t really want to think about it.”

“Do you remember what she said?”

“Of course! I’ll remember that for the rest of my life.”

“‘I served my Masters,’ right?” Poole prodded, almost sitting on the table.

“Yes!” Sally said, quickly growing annoyed.

“And then she died.”

“I think so. At least it couldn’t have been long after that. I’m surprised she could still talk at all.”

“Ian, did you see this?” She whirled to face him.

“Not that closely, but I heard what she said. We had all those words in the matrix already. It’s not like they said much else, anyway.”

“And she had that look of ecstasy on her face, right? That wasn’t just an exaggeration. That’s really how she looked, right? This is critical!”

“They all did,” Ian said. “You know that!”

“Not that look! It was more than that with her!”

Sally nodded. “Now that you mention it, she did look different. But she’d been viciously violated and must have been in a great deal of pain. Maybe that was it. You said they enjoy pain.”

“Yes, the conditioning forces the Brethren to interpret physical pain as pleasure. But I don’t think that was it.”

“Why not?” Ian asked.

“You know we recycle the facsimiles. We have at least ten of them die every day. That’s normal for the labor camp and Scott would notice if it didn’t happen.” She looked from one to the other. “His mind fills in the details! His expectations drive the matrix!”

Ian shoved his tray aside, but Poole didn’t seem to notice.

“I did some checking. I found out it’s normal for dying Brethren to experience some kind of high before they die.” She slapped the table. “I think that’s what we’re seeing here, only it was so intense the computer picked it up as an anomaly!”

“Are you saying they have a death wish?” Sally asked with more interest.

“Not in the strictest sense. It’s more subtle than that. Let’s just say the Brethren face death in an odd way.”

“They obviously have no will to live,” Sally said.

“And Scott tried to off himself,” Ian added with disgust.

“No, he didn’t, Ian. Maybe it looked that way, but I don’t think that’s what Anderson was trying to do.”

“He tried to knock down his bloody window!”

“He was trying to get home,” she corrected him. “And that’s the key to this whole thing! He goes into extreme depression when he’s away from the labor camp! If he were on the planet he’d walk across a continent to get there!”

“Like a loopy homing pigeon?”

“It’s not the place as much as the community. He has to serve his Masters! He’ll do anything to meet that obligation! When he found out he was off the planet, he just panicked!”

“So?”

“I think these people are programmed to serve out their useful lives and then die in such service! They all die martyrs!”

“They serve us in life and in death!” Ian said in a mock Obiiilion voice.

“Yes, she said that, didn’t she?” Poole grinned. “Don’t you see? That was the key all along!”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow,” Sally said.

“The little girl knew she was dying. She probably knew she would die the moment the attack began!”

Sally nodded. “I would imagine so.”

“And it was at that moment she could honestly say her obligation to the Masters was fulfilled!”

“Slow down,” Ian said. “Let us poor captains and pilots catch up.”

“Every day the Brethren sacrifice their health for the Masters’ purposes! They die a little more each day! They’ve been programmed to think they can never give enough, so they work themselves into exhaustion trying! But, when they finally do die, there’s that instant of satisfaction! It’s like the realization of a lifelong dream!”

“And the little girl’s feelings were at their peak because she knew she was dying to fulfill a Master’s sick pleasures,” Sally said, shaking her head.

“She gave him all she had to give,” Poole agreed. “Add that it was a violent death and the smile makes much more sense! We know how much they enjoy pain!”

“Sick,” Ian grumbled.

“But she’s only an extreme example of a very popular trend! It’s a ritual! We see it all the time!”

“You mean the way they carry off the bodies?” Sally asked.

“It’s like clockwork! Every day there are at least ten industrial accidents. Some collapse from exhaustion on the wheel and get pummeled to death inside, some get crushed by falling debris, some get burned in the foundry, but most just die of malnutrition or dehydration.”

“And this makes them feel like they’ve finished their service,” Sally said, trying to see her point.

“Ideally, no. But that’s the point I’m trying to make. They go on serving their Masters, but they do it in death, not in life!”

“Bloody Hell,” Ian said, looking away.

“Remember that sack they gave you, the one made of skin? That’s a symbol to these people! The Masters wear their skins so they can serve them further in death! And that’s the way the Brethren want it! It gives them a sense of purpose! The Brethren who die happiest are the ones who see it coming!”

“So they want to be made into handbags?” Ian asked.

“More than that! Most of the dying are collected while they’re still alive. That’s the pattern I see played out over and over!”

“Collected?” Sally said in disgust.

“Brought to the Masters! Don’t you see? They have to be brought in while they’re still alive so their meat won’t spoil!”

“Oh, Gordon Bennett!” Ian snorted, pushing his tray farther away.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Merryfield,” she said, restraining her smile.

“And you think they want to be eaten?” Sally asked with greater interest.

“I think they’d see that as a great honor. It’s a way of continuing their service indefinitely!”

“And some of them volunteer for heart transplants so people like that whale can go on eating forever,” Ian mumbled.

“It’s the same principle! I also think you misunderstood that man you met in the hills.”

“The one missing an eye?” Sally asked.

“Yes.”

“He wanted us to carry his treasure to his Masters,” Ian said. “At least that’s what the translator said.”

“And he refused medical help and food because he wanted to die?” Sally asked.

“I think that was more because of his aversion to good food and comfort. But I also think he thought you were Builders. I think he thought you were coming to take him back to his Masters!”

“And, because he was alive when we found him, he thought he’d still be edible by the time we got him back,” Sally said, nodding with understanding.

“Waste not, want not!” Ian mocked.

“Rachel, what does this mean?”

“I think death is the loophole we’ve been looking for. It’s the one thing they’ll accept as true and complete service to the Masters!”

“But how does that help Scott?” Ian asked.

“We have to kill 4702!”

“What?” Ian hissed, his eyes reduced to slits. “Is that supposed to be funny?”

“Not at all! I mean we have to kill 4702! Violently if possible!”

“Not on your nelly!” Ian said, open-mouthed in astonishment. “Is she winding us up?”

Sally ignored him, looking to Poole for more.

“Death is like a back door here. It’s the only weakness in their cage!”

“You mean, if Scott thinks he’s dead . . . he’ll snap out of it?” Sally asked, her eyebrows knitting together.

“Not that simple. Think of it this way: remember we described this whole thing as a kind of game with elaborate rules?”

“Yes.”

“Well, think of 4702 as a second personality stamped over Scott’s. It’s designed to lock him in and reinterpret everything that happens to him the way the Masters want him to see it.” She watched for Sally’s understanding. “There are conditioned responses to every stimulus you and I could throw at him, and there’s no way we’ll ever get around them all.”

Sally nodded.

“Scott didn’t react well to seeing his family members in the labor camp because 4702 was conditioned to be afraid of anything that might stir up memories of who he was! Those memories are trapped forever as long as his mind is in this state! And, even when he does remember things, there’s no way he can understand what they mean! That’s because his concepts of pleasure, comfort, and pain are so screwed up that past memories of things that happened to him and how he felt about them would only confuse him!”

“So?”

“So, we can’t break through his conditioning, but we can build a bridge from his world into ours! We can interrupt 4702′s conditioned responses and make contact with Scott!”

“And how does killing him do that?” Ian asked.

“Because the death ritual is the last one! There’s no conditioning beyond that point. Once the brother or sister dies, the laws no longer apply! And that means we can create new ones!”

Sally’s jaw dropped slightly, her face filling with understanding. “You mean, if he thinks he’s dead, we can order him to remember who he was and it won’t go against the rules?”

“It’ll be a new theater for him. He hates and fears Earth and the ship. He won’t even look at them. He loves the labor camp and thinks of it as home. But death will catch him off guard!” Her eyes brightened. “Once there, we can keep 4702 occupied because he won’t know what to expect! While that’s going on, we might be able to trick him into releasing Scott!”

“But what good’s that going to do if Scott’s dead?” Ian asked.

“It would be simulated death,” Sally reminded him.

“But they say you can’t do that! I’ve heard you can really die that way!”

“Rachel said that was a myth last time, remember?”

“But I heard of a bloke what died that way!”

“It’s a risk,” Poole admitted. “Research has never really proved it either way. All we know for sure is that nobody’s ever actually died just because they experienced something deadly in VR.”

Both Ian and Sally looked confused.

“The problem was all our test subjects were thrill seekers, who are a-typical people in themselves. Also, they had their safeties in place and they all knew they were in no real danger.”

Sally sighed. “And the kind of detail Scott’s getting now makes those standard VR experiences seem like an old Nintendo game!”

“Exactly! It was real enough to fool you.”

“Well, that’s it then, isn’t it?” Ian threw up his hands. “We can’t do it!”

“There’s no other way,” Poole said. “This is the only option.”

There was an uncomfortable silence as her words sunk in.

“How do we do it?” Sally asked.

“Captain!” Ian stared at her.

Sally faced him. “Ian, you’re second in command now. Whatever we do, I’ll want your input, but we must hear her out.”

He sat back with a reluctant nod and waited.

Poole turned to Sally. “A violent death would be best for our purposes because it would impress 4702, but the risk could be too great if we take it beyond a certain point. Even our VR daredevils didn’t come out of their experiences totally unscathed.”

“A sudden death, then?”

“Or a death he can see coming without knowing exactly when. An illness, perhaps.”

“Then we could make him think he died in his sleep.”

“That may be too tame, Sally,” Poole said, trying to be delicate. “I think we’ll only get one shot at this, so it has to be convincing.”

“What do you suggest?”

“I’m thinking an accident. One he’s witnessed, but never actually experienced. It has to be something guaranteed to be fatal, but confusing as well. And it must be a situation in which the actual moment of death might not be obvious.”

“Any ideas?” Sally asked, not really wanting to know.

“Yes, I have something in mind and I think I can set it up. I haven’t got all the details worked out yet.”

Sally nodded, clearly not wanting to pursue the point. She then looked to Ian. Poole joined her.

Ian shook his head. “I can’t believe we’re sitting here talking about killing a mate! It’s so . . . ghoulish!”

Poole turned back to Sally. “Captain, I’m not going to make this decision. There’s risk involved and he’s a member of your crew. Technically, we could keep him alive for a long time in VR, not that I’d call that living. It’s a gamble at best either way. It’s got to be up to you two.”

Sally and Ian looked at each other briefly. Ian shrugged and sighed. Sally sat in silence for a long moment. Finally, she met Ian’s eyes again. “I think we have to consider this. In some ways he’s as good as dead the way he is now.”

“And if he stays this way he’ll never be able to leave the ship,” Poole pointed out. “The memories Earth would trigger in him would be such a shock he’d probably die on the spot. If he didn’t, he’d suffer permanent clinical depression, which would lead to a very unholy death. A real one.”

Ian looked around the room, fidgeting. He returned his gaze to Sally, as if wishing his opinion had never been asked. “Captain, you’re the doctor. Me, I’m just a pilot. Do you think this is the right thing?”

She stared across the table in silence. Very gradually she began to nod. “Not the right thing, but the only thing left.”

Ian leaned forward. “Okay then. I’ll agree. If there’s no other way.”

“When the time comes I’ll need both of you to help me. It may be a complicated situation.” She then vanished, leaving them staring over their cold trays of food.

“Do you trust her?” Ian asked.

“She’s been right so far. But the fact is we don’t have much choice.”

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