Draigo felt a thrill as possibilities cascaded through his mind. “I am sure the Directeur will be quite interested, provided you can find them.”
Erasmus continued. “You are aware that Denali was once a cymek base. Long ago, this robot fleet departed from here and was shut down shortly thereafter; it has been dormant ever since. I have the exact location. With minimal effort you could retrieve the ships, recondition them, install new weapons, and even add foldspace engines if you desire. The vessels are yours.”
Anna slid her arms around the robot’s waist and hugged him.
Draigo was already projecting many effective ways to deploy a whole new battle group. “That would be a most acceptable gesture of gratitude.”
IT FELT GOOD to be experimenting again. That was the primary reason for the independent robot’s existence. Spending the past eight decades as nothing more than a disembodied gelsphere, Erasmus had been unable to perform the exciting work he wanted to do, and he’d had to content himself with mere thought experiments, as well as subtle psychological manipulations and schemes — which, while valuable, were not nearly as satisfying as genuine, tangible action. He’d also focused on surviving, and had accomplished that.
Now, in his flesh-and-blood form, Erasmus could walk wherever he wanted, touch anything he wanted, even eat food, and he could at last return to his research. He stood in the laboratory chamber that held the disembodied brains of failed Navigators. The brains fascinated him, enlarged and evolved, supposedly examples of superior humans, although even “superior” humans were a far cry from the capabilities of thinking machines.
He looked at the rows of tanks, all of them being prepared for installation in powerful cymek walker forms. They seemed to contemplate the meaning of their existence.
“You’ve been staring for an hour,” Anna said. “We should go somewhere, do something.”
“I am doing something,” he said. In bygone days, as a prestigious robot on Corrin, he had dissected, stimulated, and tortured his share of human brains. “I am considering experiments to perform.”
Anna stepped closer. “Can I help?”
He pondered, choosing the right answer. “Of course.” That was all she needed to hear.
Anna Corrino herself was one of his greatest experiments, proving how much he could achieve in manipulating, shaping, and developing her damaged personality. But he was mostly finished with her. Now he wanted to poke and prod the Navigator brains.
Although Anna had seemed bored and impatient only a moment ago, once he brought her into his work, she felt more valuable. With her assistance he prepared several initial tests. He gave her instructions, and she scurried off to obtain equipment for him.
He selected three living brains to experiment on, and when Anna brought him long, thin needle probes with electrified ends, he went through an extended process of trial and error to locate and stimulate the primary pain receptors in the Navigator brains. With thoughtrodes connected to each specimen, he took readings, adjusted his work, and promptly discovered how to torment the subjects.
He had done this many times before on human brains, but these mutated and supposedly evolved specimens were behaving the same way, with the same primitive responses at the base level of the brain. Even though the specimens did not have a physical form to thrash and scream, which would clearly demonstrate the agony they experienced, the thoughtrode readings did not lie.
“Are we getting the right results, Erasmus?” Anna asked.
“Disappointing ones,” he said, and Anna’s face fell, as if he had criticized her. “It’s not you,” he added quickly. “It is a failing of the brains themselves.”
He reached out to grasp another tank, pressing his hands against the curved plaz wall and lifting it up. The next subject.
“What are you doing?” asked a sharp voice.
Erasmus turned to see Dr. Danebh scowling at him. His own human reactions nearly made him drop the brain container. But he managed to control himself. If the brain tank were to shatter on the laboratory floor, it would be a waste of an experimental subject.
“I am performing scientific research,” he replied. “Is that not what this facility is designed for?”
The Tlulaxa doctor gave him a look of consternation. “Those brains are to guide cymek walkers in our attack against the Butlerians. Denali isn’t a facility devoted to pure research, but to develop weapons against Manford Torondo. That is our priority. Don’t damage our resources.”
Erasmus accepted the justification. “Very well.” He put the canister back in its slot and told Anna to return the other three to their places. “I believe I have learned everything necessary here.”
He shook his head, imitating a gesture he had learned from observing humans. “Considering the primitive responses the subjects have demonstrated, I can understand why these are failed Navigators.”
53
The one who makes a suggestion is often at a disadvantage compared with the one who listens and considers it, especially if there are conflicting personal goals.
Valya continued to monitor the progress of her Sisters, especially the stubborn Orthodox ones. Apart from a handful of discards who had needed to be killed, most were successfully retrained, both physically and mentally. The Sisterhood was once again strong and stable, under her able leadership.
Ninke, though, remained a question mark. And a big one.
Sister Deborah stood beside Valya on the practice field, watching hundreds of trainees going through their solo routines, including the spunky and determined Gabi. They kicked at the air and struck imaginary targets with stone-hard fingertips, moving fast. Together, they perfected the combination of skills from Valya’s Swordmaster education, the techniques she and her brother Griffin had created for themselves, and the Sorceress Way. Though closely packed together, the frenetic trainees did not touch one another, but landed gracefully in their proper combat positions, as if choreographed.
“They are making some progress,” Deborah reported.
“Not enough for the standards I have set.” Valya had found that it was never wise to offer too much praise, which might encourage some trainees to be satisfied with less than their absolute best. She raised her hands to pause the session, calling out, “I’ve seen good improvement, but good is less than excellent. A Sister must attain the pinnacle of human abilities, physical and mental. That is why Mother Superior Raquella founded our order.
“I have selected the best among you to undergo more intensive mental training, to add balance to your fighting abilities. You will need those mental skills to advance the Sisterhood into the future, as you will be taught important psychological tools, emotional shaping, and even Truthsaying for those of you who have the ability.”
After she motioned for them to continue practicing, Valya focused on Ninke, while the former Orthodox Sister went through high-order defenses in which she countered complex attacks in sparring sessions with Gabi. Despite Ninke’s stocky, muscular build, her movements were lithe. Her broken arm had recovered sufficiently that she trained with the others, showing only a slight favoring of the other arm.
Valya raised her eyebrows and turned to Deborah. “What is your assessment of Ninke?”