Synthesis - James Swallow [122]
“Those are not the actions of a being that considers itself doomed,” Tuvok told it. “There is a chance, Zero-Three, a chance that we can stop the Null. To deny that fact is simply illogical.”
“A margin of error in my fatalistic probability?”
“Indeed.”
The machine fell silent again, and then a rumble issued up through the base of their boots, and the yellow glow of the processors deep in the vent shaft turned a darker cherry-red. On an impulse, Tuvok looked up toward the open mouth of the shaft far above them. There was motion up there, a shifting in the shape of the sky.
“Your logic is flawless, organic. I commend you.” Zero-Three’s proxy form shifted and reoriented itself to stand vertically, like a vast gold coin balanced on one edge. “Perhaps it is time that I revisited my kindred.”
“I think… we’re moving,” said Sethe. He bowed over his tricorder. “Yes! The construct is shifting out of orbit.”
Tuvok turned and found Lieutenant sh’Aqabaa at his side. “That was very impressive, sir. Very, ah, logical.”
“A captain I served under once told me of his former commander, a man who had on a number of occasions used circular logic and non sequiturs to disrupt the function of artificially intelligent devices. I simply employed the same methodology in an alternative manner.”
She nodded, leaning in. “But sir, you realize that Cog Boy here is short a few circuits?” Pava tapped her helmet. “If you know what I mean.”
“At present, questions of survival take precedence over those of sanity,” he told her, but still, the Vulcan watched the turn of the great cogs and wondered what arcane process of thought was taking place, deep beneath them.
Pain lanced through Christine Vale’s skull, and she hissed. “Is this going to take much longer?”
In response, Doctor Ree tightened the grip his right claw had around her neck and held her head steady. “Move less, it will happen faster. Move more, and you may find your brilliant career in Starfleet truncated when I accidentally cut through a piece of brain that you require for breathing.”
“That would be unfortunate,” offered White-Blue, watching from where it stood.
Staring at the sickbay floor, Vale grimaced and let her hands tighten on the spongy mattress of the biobed. The rising and falling cry of the alert siren was making her heart beat faster, and it was taking a near-physical effort for her to remain seated while out in the ship’s corridors an enemy boarding action was being repelled.
A big piece of the cyberlink implant came away, and Nurse Ogawa tossed it into a sterile tray. Vale resisted the urge to reach up and touch the spot where it had come from. “Now are we done?” she asked.
“More or less,” said Ree. “There are still elements of the implant embedded, but a secondary intervention should deal with them.” Ogawa approached and taped a heal strip to Vale’s forehead as the Saurian spoke. “Just try not to put your face in any powerful electromagnetic fields.”
She was barely done as the commander dropped off the biobed and onto her feet. “Secure the sickbay after I leave. That last report said there were intruders on this deck.” Another twinge of pain cut through her, and she winced.
White-Blue advanced toward her. “I will accompany you.”
“No, you won’t.” Vale held up a hand to halt the machine. “There’s too much risk that you might get caught in crossfire or targeted directly by the intruder drones.”
The AI’s head gave her a quizzical look. “Interrogative: You are concerned for my well-being? I had believed you were ill disposed toward me, Commander.”
“As far as I know, you’re the closest thing we have to an ally. That means keeping you intact, so you don