Immortal Coil - Jeffrey Lang [77]
“Korby,” Ruk repeated and the caverns seemed to echo in sympathy. He stood and considered the flavor of the new word for several seconds, then noticed that the intruder was still leaking fluids. This form was very badly damaged. Perhaps unsalvageable.
He decided he would have to go find one of the machines.
The process did not go smoothly. The machine was still functioning properly, but it would not begin the replication process until Korby was stabilized. Apparently, there were problems because of the amount of fluid ( Blood, Ruk had to remind himself. It was called blood) that Korby had lost. Several internal organs were damaged and the circulatory system in the legs had collapsed. Complications from this were affecting other systems and the machine instructed Ruk to remove its legs and cauterize the wounds. This would keep Korby alive long enough to perform the replication.
Korby had regained consciousness during the procedure. He had not reacted well. Ruk was concerned that the shock might have damaged him further, but the diagnostic subroutines said it had not.
When the process was complete, the machine reported that some of Korby’s engrams might not have transferred perfectly, but it could not say for certain whether it was because of damage to the tissue or because of Korby’s alien physiology.
Ruk didn’t care.
Korby asked three times why he was not cold before the explanation finally sank in. He stared at his hands, examining them in excruciating detail. “This is extraordinary. I can see individual skin cells,” he said in hushed tones. “Each and every one of them. And they’re all perfect.”
Ruk waited restlessly while Korby studied his new condition. It had been his intention to begin questioning the intruder as soon as he regained consciousness, so it had come as a surprise when Korby had asked Ruk to be quiet and leave him for a moment … and Ruk had complied. Why? Where did this inclination come from?
“Ruk,” Korby said at length. “I have a question.”
Ruk said nothing, merely waited.
Korby took a step closer, his head tilted to one side. “Can we make more?”
Chapter Twenty
SAM WALKED TO THE REPLICATOR and asked for some water. “Getting parched from all the talking,” he said by way of explanation. He sipped from the cup, then, seeing Picard’s confusion, offered, “My body isn’t quite as efficient as your Mr. Data’s. I require periodic rehydration. Just like organics, not all synthetic beings are created equal.” He returned the cup to the replicator and returned to his bunk.
“Ruk had waited half a million years for the visitation that was supposed to mean the androids’ escape from the planet. But time, solitude and monotony eventually took their toll on him. After all those millennia of waiting, he no longer remembered what he was waiting for. His sanity eroded, so that by the time he met Korby, his mission was long forgotten, the data corrupted beyond recovery.
“I think you know the next part of the story,” Sam said. “Due to the flaws Ruk allowed to creep into the duplication and transfer process, the Korby android was a bit off from the original, and that’s putting it mildly, I’m afraid. Hatched a scheme to introduce androids into your Federation covertly, in a skewed attempt to give your people the ultimate medical advance: immortality. He was thwarted, of course, by one of your Starfleet predecessors.
“And during that encounter, Ruk was destroyed,” Sam continued, “without ever remembering those who slept and waited below, recalling only that organic intelligence was a threat to himself and his kind,” Sam said with a sigh. “And that might have been the end of it … if it hadn’t been for Noonien Soong.”
“Data’s creator?” Picard asked, genuinely confused. “What has he to do with this?”
“He freed them, Captain. He, along with Emil Vaslovik and Ira Graves, went to Exo III and released the androids from stasis. The androids eventually found Korby’s crashed ship, still buried in the ice aboveground, and spent the next few decades using it as a model to create