“Sssh!” the caninoid alien said nervously, grasping Derec’s hand and pulling him back. “Don’t interrupt the boss. ‘E’ll talk to ‘u when ‘e’s ready.”
Aranimas turned back to his work and resumed speaking. Derec had the impression that he was issuing orders, chiding, prodding, reprimanding, assigning targets and grading gunners. There was nothing moving on the surface and nothing stirring below, and yet the carnage went on.
After a few minutes of watching, Derec could no longer restrain himself. “There’s nothing down there anymore,” Derec blurted. “They blew it all up. What are you doing this for?”
“Prrractice,” Aranimas said. His voice was high-pitched and he trilled the “r” sound.
It went on for another ten minutes that way, millions of watts of energy expended uselessly against an inert and lifeless world. Then Aranimas ran a fingertip along a row of switches, and the screens went blank.
“Rijat,” he said, and turned his chair to face them. “What is your name?”
“Derec.” Only one of Aranimas’s eyes was trained on him; the other glanced around randomly. Derec could not imagine what it would be like to view the world that way. Did the alien’s brain switch back and forth between the two inputs, like a director choosing a camera shot? Or did it somehow integrate the two images into one?
“This device you used to attack my ship,” Aranimas continued. “What was it?”
“An augmented worksuit-altered to allow the leg servos to operate at full power. But I wasn’t attacking you. I was escaping.”
Aranimas’s other eye pivoted forward and focused on Derec. “Were you a prisoner?”
“I was stranded on the asteroid in a survival pod. The robots found me and then wouldn’t let me go. I had to steal that equipment from them to get away.”
“And where did you come from before you were stranded?”
“I don’t know,” Derec said, frowning. “I can’t remember anything before that.”
“Don’t lie to ‘im,” the caninoid whispered. “It makes ‘im angry.”
“I’m not lying,” Derec said indignantly. “As far as I can tell, five days ago I didn’t exist. That’s how much I know about who I am.”
While Derec spoke, Aranimas reached inside the folds of his clothing and extracted a small golden stylus. Seeing it, the caninoid cringed and turned half away.
“Oh, no,” it whined. “Too late.”
Aranimas pointed the stylus at Derec’s side, and a pale blue light began to dance over the entire surface of Derec’s hand. He screamed in pain and dropped to his knees. It was as though he had trust his hand into a raging furnace, except that no skin was being destroyed and no nerve endings deadened. The pain just went on and on, sapping his strength until even the screams caught in his throat, too feeble to free themselves.
“I know something of the rules of governing robots and humans,” Aranimas said calmly while Derec writhed on the floor. “Humans build robots to serve them. Robots follow human direction. If you were the only human on this asteroid, then it follows that the robots here were under your command, and serving your purpose.”
Aranimas tipped the stylus ceilingward, and the blue glow vanished. The pain vanished with it, except for the memory. Derec lay on his side and sucked in air in great gasping breaths.
“I will know who you are and what you know about the object you brought aboard,” Aranimas said quietly. “To end the pain, you need only tell me the truth.”
His face as emotionless as his trilling voice, Aranimas pointed the stylus at Derec once more.
Chapter 8. Test Of Loyalty
At some point, it ended. But by that time Derec was in no condition to know clearly why Aranimas had interrupted his torture. He had only a vague awareness of Aranimas’s going away, and of being dragged away from the control center by the caninoid.
Unable to either resist or help, he was taken to another section of the subdivided compartment and laid on a thinly padded board. He lay there drifting in and out of consciousness, sometimes aware of the caninoid crouching solicitously beside him, sometimes aware of nothing but his own confusion and fatigue.
In one of his lucid moments he became aware that the alien was holding a cup of clear liquid for him, and struggled up on one elbow.
“ ’U bettrr tell Aranimas what ‘e wants to know,” the caninoid whispered as it offered the cup.
Derec tipped his head forward and reached for the cup. His right hand trembled uncontrollably, so he had to use his left to steady the cup as he sipped at the cool liquid. It was sweet, like a thin honey, and bathed his ravaged throat with relief.
“How tough do you think humans are?” he croaked. “If I knew anything I’d have told him in the first five minutes. If he keeps this up he’s going to kill me. Why won’t he believe me?”
The caninoid glanced nervously around before answering. “Do ‘u know Narwe?”
Derec could not tell if the name was of a species or an individual, but it did not matter to his answer. “No.”
“Aranimas knows Narwe. Narwe ‘ass to be forced to be honest. If ‘u ask Narwe a question, it will lie or pretend it doesn’t understand or hass forgotten. Hurt Narwe enough and it always tell.”
“I’m not a Narwe!” Derec protested weakly. “Is he too stupid to see that?”
“Aranimas thinks ‘u use the Narwe trick,” the caninoid said. “Besides, Aranimas iss very angry.”
“Why is he angry at me? I didn’t do anything to him.”
“When Aranimas iss angry, everyone in trouble,” the alien said. “Gunners werr not supposed to destroy robot nest.”
“They didn’t. The robots did it themselves.”
“Doesn’t matter. Aranimas wanted to capture robots to work forr ‘im.”
Derec closed his eyes and laid back. “I’m afraid there won’t be much to capture.”
“Aranimas went to see what salvage team brought back,” the alien said. “Eff truly not much, ‘e’ll be worse when ‘e comes back.”
“Can’t you help me?” Derec pleaded. “You believe me, don’t you?”
“Not my job to believe or not believe,” the caninoid shrugged. “Can’t ‘elp.”
With a sigh, Derec lowered himself back to a reclining position and closed his eyes. “Then he is going to kill me, because I don’t have anything to tell him. And maybe that’s just as well.”
The caninoid reclaimed the cup from Derec’s hand and stood up. “Perfect Narwe thought. Don’t let Aranimas ‘ear ‘u.”
Dozing, the first Derec knew of Aranimas’s return was when the alien seized him by the arm and hauled him roughly to a sitting position.
“It’s time to stop playing,” Aranimas said. “I grow impatient.”
“That was playing?” Derec said lightly. “You people have some funny ideas about games. Remind me not to play cutthroat eight-card with you.”
At that, the caninoid, crouching in a doorway a few meters away, closed its eyes and began to shake its head. Aranimas’s answer was to reach inside his clothing for the stylus.
“Wait,” Derec said quickly, holding up a hand palm out. “You don’t need that.”
“Have you decided to share your knowledge after all?”
“I always was willing to. You just didn’t want what I had to offer.”
“I will know who you are and what you know about the object you brought aboard,” Aranimas said.
Derec slid off the edge of the bench and found his feet. Aranimas still dwarfed him, but even so, he felt better standing. “The fact is, you know as much as I do about who I am, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you knew more than I do about the silver box. But there is something I know more about than you do, and that’s robots. How did your prospecting go?”
One of Aranimas’s eyes cast a baleful glance in the direction of the caninoid, which hunched its shoulders and retreated from the doorway. “They brought back fragments only,” Aranimas said. “Your robots were very efficient about destroying themselves.”
“They weren’t my robots,” Derec said. “But why don’t you show me what you have?”
Aranimas lowered his arms to his side and slowly massaged his knees with his hands while he weighed Derec’s proposition. “Yes,” he said finally. “That will be a good test of your intentions and usefulness. I will have you build me a robot.”