The Phoenix Code by Catherine Asaro

"Do it," Ander told him. "Now."

  Raj rose to his feet, then gulped and sat down again. The second time he tried, he managed to stay up. Then he sat at the console again. When he took his hand away from his head, blood dripped onto the holoscreen in front of him.

  Ander's face settled into a more normal expression. Re­lief underlay his guarded wariness, and apprehension also. To Raj he said, "It's good you decided to cooperate."

  His responses made Megan wonder. Ander claimed he had no conscience, yet his behavior implied otherwise. Had he really redesigned his hardware? Someday robots might carry nanobots that could aid such a process, but that was well in the future. She suspected he had only fid­dled with his emotive software to hide his guilt when his conscience bothered him. He lied about it so they would believe his bluffs. It was a sophisticated ruse, sure, but more credible than his using wireless signals to drive quantum transitions in his own body, on an untold num­ber of molecules, in such a way that they redesigned his nanofilaments exactly as he desired.

  While Raj worked, Megan cleaned the gash on his head. Each time he winced, she wished she could take away the pain too. He glanced at her once with a gentle look and squeezed her hand.

  When Megan finished, she sat next to Raj again, watching. He genuinely seemed to be having trouble with the files.

  "Want to help?" Raj asked.

  She glanced at Ander. "Do you have any objections?"

  "Go ahead," he answered.

  Megan linked into the computer using the console's palmtop, then jumped to NEV-5 and brought up her own decryption codes on BioSyn. She and Raj worked for sev­eral hours. It took a lot of finagling, but eventually they produced readable text. After Raj sent it to the printer, they hid the files and logged off BioSyn.

  Raj spoke tiredly. "It's done. That's what I could find you."

  Ander took the papers out of the printer tray and scanned them. "I don't understand this." He handed sev­eral sheets to Raj. "Does it make sense to you two?"

  Megan had glanced over the files as they worked, but she hadn't read them carefully yet. She and Raj studied the document. It looked like part of a grant proposal. Apparently, Arizonix had indeed originated the Phoenix Project, but for some reason they wanted help now from the Las Cruces lab.

  "This is odd," Ander said.

  She looked up. "What?"

  Ander still had some of the sheets. "It looks as if they're asking for money to dismantle androids they've created." He gave them the rest of the papers. "What do you make of it?"

  After having written numerous grant proposals, Megan recognized the format. They were missing parts of the document, but the gist was clear. "Apparently Phoenix did create several androids. I'm not sure how many. Now they want to destroy them. Or one of them. They and their team at LLCL want funds for some sort of study as they take the androids apart."

  Ander's face paled. "That's murder!"

  "You don't know that," Raj said. But he didn't look much happier than Ander.

  The android rounded on him. "You worked for Ari­zonix. You knew what they're doing."

  Raj shook his head. "I was at one site for a few days, interviewing for a job. I never worked on the Phoenix Project."

  Ander clenched his fists. Then he stalked to the glass doors. Pushing aside the curtains, he stared out at the desert. "And you wonder why I have hostility toward you."

  Megan's anger sparked. "We've done nothing to you." She stood up, then took a breath and went over to him. "But you've threatened us with violence since this started."

  "I feel trapped." He sounded tired, though he never needed sleep.

  Raj joined them. "What do you intend to do?"

  "Find the Phoenix androids," Ander said.

  "And if you do?" Megan asked.

  "I'll free them."

  "Then what?" Raj asked. "We don't know why Arizonix wants to destroy them. I can tell you this much, though. I recognize some names on that proposal. We aren't talking about killers here. Those are men and women of conscience. They must have compelling reasons for their choices."

  "Do they?" Bitterness honed Ander's voice. "You peo­ple made us. How much 'conscience' do you see at work in the murder of your own creations?"

  Megan spoke quietly. "Maybe they fear what they cre­ated."

  His arm jerked. "If I had waited even a day longer to run from NEV-5, I would probably be dead now too."

  "Why?" she asked. "No one threatened our project."

  "No?" He turned a truculent gaze on Raj. "You two left me deactivated."

  "Of course we did," Raj said. "You hurt yourself, damaged the lab, and impersonated me. I could have been killed when you left me in that chair. It would have been irresponsible for us not to deactivate you while we slept. That doesn't make us murderers. And think on this. You want us to show conscience toward you, yet you freely admit you have none toward us."

  Ander looked away from him. "I didn't say I had none. I said I could override it."

  "That isn't what you said," Megan murmured.

  He swung around to her. "All right! So maybe I'm just ignoring it. You can't tell me that humans don't do that all the time."

  "What about your emotions?" Megan asked. "You say you don't have those either, but you're incredibly con­vincing."

  "If I behave as if I have emotions, is that the same as having them?" He spread his arms, still holding the rifle. "Your bodies undergo chemical changes when you feel, like with love or the fear-flight response. What about mine? All those nano species—enzymes, buckytubes, picochips, proteins, carriers—they experience changes ac­cording to what I 'feel.' It's not the same as yours, but it happens. If I have emotions, it's different from anything you know. Alien."

  Megan marveled at the questions he had begun to ask. "Maybe only you can say if what you experience is emo­tion."

  His anger faded as he looked at her. "I really did want to kiss you at NEV-5."

  She hadn't expected that. "Why?"

  "Curiosity."

  "Didn't you care about the damage?" Raj asked.

  "What damage? It hurt no one."

  "Physically, no," Megan said. "But you were playing with our emotions. You don't think that can do harm?"

  He made an exasperated sound. "So I forced the two of you to admit you like each other. Horrors. No wonder you think I'm dangerous."

  Megan smiled slightly. "You could rock the world with an ability like that." Her voice cooled. "What makes you dangerous are the kidnapping, your capacity for violence, and that gun. But it's cruel to play with people's vulnera­bilities."

  Ander thumped his hand on his leg. "This is useless. We'll never understand one another." He motioned at the console. "You two are going to crack the Phoenix labs for me. I want everything you can dig out on them."

  "I'm through hacking for you," Raj said.

  "He has a point," Megan said. "We do need to know more about Phoenix."

  Raj stared at her. "You want to help him?"

  "I don't know." The Phoenix proposal disturbed her. She kept thinking of Ander. To see him destroyed would tear her apart. But they had no idea what had happened at Arizonix. "I don't see how we can make an informed decision unless we know more."

  "I won't break any more laws," Raj said.

  "But it's all right to murder androids?" Ander de­manded. "Because no law protects us?"

  "No. It isn't all right. But we don't know why they want to end the project." Raj touched the gash on his temple. His gesture looked reflexive, as if he didn't realize what he was doing. "I gave an oath when I received my clearance, both to the government and to MindSim. I vi­olated that trust by breaking into LLCL. Now you want me to commit more crimes. If you force me by torturing Megan, what have you achieved except to prove that the Phoenix team could have good reason for their deci­sion?"

  "What about my trust?" Ander watched him with a gaze as piercing as the one Raj so often used on people. "Tell me something. Why did you get so angry when I said you 'ate gravel'?"

/>   Raj's voice tightened. "That has nothing to do with this."

  "You're doing it again," Ander said.

  "It's none of your damn business."

  "Why won't you answer?"

  "It's irrelevant."

  "I don't think so."

  "Fine." Raj crossed his arms, his muscled biceps strain­ing the sleeves of his jumpsuit. "I got beat up a lot when I was a kid. I was small and skinny, and I couldn't fight. I was socially inept, several grades ahead academically, half Indian, and I stunk at athletics. They used to knock me down and shove my face in the dirt. It was humiliating, damn it. Satisfied?"

  Ander spoke in a low voice. "Ask yourself what would you do now if some person insisted that your concerns about cruelty and prejudice had no validity. Then you know how I feel."

  "It's not the same. I never threatened anyone."

  "You don't think it's all part of the same thing?" Ander asked. "Why did you spend years developing your mus­cles and learning to fight? So they could never beat you up again. What happens when you translate that to entire countries, when 'muscle' becomes weapons and armies? And that's just with your own species. Put mine into the mix and then what?"

  Raj lowered his arms. Then he turned and walked to the console. He stood there gazing at the blanked screen. After a moment he turned back to Ander. "No, the world isn't perfect. That doesn't justify violating my principles."

  Watching him, Megan found it hard to believe he could have committed the crimes Ander claimed. She wished all those people who criticized Raj for his idiosyncrasies could hear this side of him.

  Then it hit her. Raj had struggled to decrypt the LLCL files. She didn't think he had faked it. Were the Pentagon files encrypted the same way? His difficulty today implied he had never seen that scheme before, which could mean he hadn't been at the Pentagon. Of course the Pentagon encryption might differ from this one. Still, it made her wonder.

  "I'm tired of arguing," Ander said. "I've told you the consequences if you refuse to help me."

  "Yes, you can force us," Raj said. "How does that make you any different from a terrorist?"

  "Killing those androids is genocide."

  "We've only seen part of one proposal," Raj said.

  "We won't find the truth unless we look." Ander sounded as if he hurt inside. "Are your principles more important than those lives?"

  "You want me to violate my beliefs for what you say is a higher good." Raj looked as strained as Ander. "You may be right. I don't know. How do I decide? I don't be­lieve the people on that project could commit murder. With that decision, I can't do what you want, not of my own free will. I have to use my best judgment."

  "Damn your judgment." Ander's voice cracked. "My species may be facing extinction. I don't want to die. I don't want to live alone either, the only one of my kind."

  Megan spoke in a low voice. "Then you look for Phoenix." She left the rest implicit and hoped he under­stood; she wouldn't help him break the law, but neither would she try to stop him.

  "I don't have the background," Ander said.

  "You learn faster than we do," she said. "And you watched Raj work for hours today."

  Ander looked as if he wanted to explode. He motioned with the rifle. "Get in the bathroom. Both of you." When they hesitated, he raised the gun like a club. "Do it."

  Megan felt as if the ground had suddenly dropped. Had any of what they said mattered? Or was he about to follow through on his threats?

  *17*

  Sins of the Brothers

  Ander locked them in the bathroom. Then he worked on the door—doing what, Megan had no idea. When the noise stopped, they tried the door.

  "I think he jammed the knob," Raj said.

  Scrapes came from outside as Ander dragged a heavy object to the door. It had to be one of the chairs; they were the only things that weren't fastened to the floor. The knob shook. Then his footsteps receded and silence descended. Raj rattled the knob, shoved on the door, and tried to force the lock, all with no success.

  "I might be able to break it down," he said.

  "I don't think we should." Megan's apprehension eased into a tentative wonder. "Raj, he chose. He picked the path of conscience, even if he refuses to admit it. In­stead of forcing us, he's going to try Phoenix himself. And I can't stop thinking about what he said. Genocide. I'm not sure we have the right to stop him."

  "I don't know. This has no easy answers." He watched her with his dark gaze. "What if he's right? How could they consider destroying living beings that way?"

  "Let's see what he finds out."

  "I'll give him six hours." Raj leaned heavily against the door. "Aw, Megan, don't look at me like that. All right. Twelve hours."

  "Why do you think I was going to protest?"

  "I've seen that look of yours plenty these past weeks," he grumbled. "It usually means I'm about to lose a de­bate."

  She wasn't sure what to make of that. "I didn't even think you noticed me much."

  "How could I not notice? Do you know how hard it is to concentrate when my boss is a red-haired Valkyrie with the face of an angel and the body of an erotica model?"

  That caught her off guard. "Good grief."

  He reddened. "Sorry. That was tactless."

  Tactless? It sounded great. "No. I mean, thank you." She sat on the edge of the tub. Mischief lightened her voice. "I can't think of anyone I'd rather be trapped with in a Motel Flamingo bathroom."

  Sitting next to her, he grinned. "No one has ever told me that before."

  "And you probably hope they never will again."

  With a laugh, he took a bar of soap off a tray in the tub, then pulled over the trash can. He scraped the soap with his fingernail, shaving off white slivers. The shape of a dog began to form.

  "You're good at that," she said. "Does it help you relax?"

  "I suppose." He made notches to resemble fur. "Or you could call it my proverbial eccentric behavior."

  "Eccentric, pah. It's neat. You have talent."

  Raj gave her a startled look. "Thanks." He went back to work on the dog. "I've done it since I was a kid. To forget."

  "Forget what?"

  He paused, as if he had just realized what he said. "Nothing, really. I liked doing it, that's all."

  Megan didn't want to trespass on his well-guarded pri­vacy. So she only said, "When I was little, I had soaps made like seashells."

  He continued to carve. "When I was four, one of my adult cousins sent me a box of bath toys. Animal soaps. He signed the card 'Love from Jay.' " His fingers slowed to a stop. "I still have that card." He was clenching the dog now.

  She hesitated, wondering what was wrong. "Did your uncle like the figures?" If she recalled, he had gone to live with his uncle when he was four.

  The dog suddenly broke, one piece falling out of his fist. It hit the floor by his feet. Opening his hand, he stared at the other pieces. Then he dropped them in the trash can. "Jay sent the toys after my mother's stroke. He thought they might console me."

  She watched his face. "Raj?"

  He wouldn't look at her. "What?"

  "You're angry."

  "No."

  "Did something happen with Jay?"

  "I—no."

  "Did you miss your parents?"

  At first she thought he would retreat into silence. But then he said, "So much. They were so easy to love. Tender, absentminded I suppose, but loving and affectionate."

  She couldn't imagine what it had been like for him to lose both parents so young. "It must have been hard."

  Raj picked up the piece of the dog that had hit the floor. "My uncle Devon found me playing with the toys. He threw them out and sent me to bed without dinner."

  "But why? Didn't he understand?"

  He rubbed his thumb over the dog's head as if he wished that simple motion could smooth away all the rough spots. "Devon meant well. He just had no idea what to do with me. The social worker probably should have put me in a foster home. But he was family."
He spoke in a low voice. "Have you ever read how Mozart's father pushed him to the point of obsession? My uncle was like that. He couldn't have me wasting my mind by playing. Diversions, emotion, demonstrations of affec­tion—those were for weak people."

  "Ah, Raj. I'm sorry." No wonder he had bristled at Richard Kenrock, then eased up when he saw the major's sensitivity toward his children. "It must hurt."

  "Not anymore." Raj dropped the soap into the trash. "I went for counseling during most of my twenties. I'll probably always have some odd coping mechanisms and a fear of heights, but I've made my peace with my child­hood."

  "Do you mind if I ask why heights bother you?"

  It was a moment before he answered. "I climbed trees to get away from the kids who beat on me. I fell out a lot. Devon didn't know why I hated trees. He got it into his head that I had to 'overcome my fears by facing them.' So he made me climb the blasted things. He never meant to harm me, but he had no idea how to deal with the prob­lems."

  "Couldn't you tell anyone?"

  "I was so proud. Too proud." Although he was staring ahead, Megan didn't think he saw the sink across from them. "I believed if I sought help, it would mean I was just as weak as my uncle made me feel."

  Megan would have liked to give this uncle a piece of her mind. She thought about what Raj had told her in NEV-5. "Is that why you learned to fight? To defend yourself without asking for help?"

  He turned to her. "I started lifting weights when I was twelve. The day I fought back against those kids—and won—was one of the best damn moments in my life."

  She tried to understand the undercurrent she heard in his words. "And that bothers you? That you enjoyed it?"

  "Of course it bothers me. I did to them what I hated them for doing to me." He curled his hand into a fist, then relaxed it. "It's why I've sworn never to use violence."

  "You were defending yourself."

  He was silent for a moment. "I still think, at times, that if something hadn't been wrong with me to start with, it would never have happened."

  "That's bullshit. You have no control over people's cruelty." She wanted someone to blame for Raj's pain. "Where were the school counselors when you were taking that grief? Why didn't they do something?"

 
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