“You came to me, Batrun. Somehow, you knew where I’d be after speaking with Lieutenant Colonel Stokes. I find that troubling.”

  “Stokes is now a lieutenant colonel?” the android asked.

  Maddox said nothing as he thought about another poker analogy. A level one player considered what cards he possessed, and nothing else. A level two player considered what cards he and his opponent had. A level three player considered those things along with what cards his opponent thought that he possessed. The levels could go up without limit. It was beneficial to think one level higher than one’s adversary. But if one thought two or more levels higher than his opponent, it didn’t help any, because his opponent did not think high enough for those insights to matter. In those cases, the poker player could outthink himself.

  The point here in the holding cell was that Maddox didn’t want to ponder if the android really knew about Stokes’ promotion or merely wanted him to believe that he didn’t know. Things could become too convoluted that way until a man paralyzed himself. It was possible that Batrun plotted wheels within wheels, but Maddox refused to paralyze himself by trying to outthink the android in that manner.

  As he sat in his chair, Maddox crossed his legs. “You appeared in a flitter at HQ to pick me up. You obviously succeeded. Now, are you here to warn or to help me?”

  “Both,” Batrun said.

  “Let’s begin with the warning,” Maddox said.

  The android did not move or twitch, but suddenly, Maddox became hyper-alert, and he did not know why.

  “The Jotuns are like nothing you have faced before,” Batrun finally said. “They are like nothing we have faced before. They are mysterious, and it would seem work overtime to maintain their cloak of anonymity.”

  “So far,” Maddox said, “you’ve told me nothing useful. As far as I’m concerned, this is merely another android plot or possibly a Builder ploy using androids as their tools.”

  “Consider this then,” Batrun said, “the reflective spheroid you witnessed was new. The binding-force bubble that allowed the hauler to go deep into the Jovian atmosphere was new. The brain modification device that political advisor Sanders and marine androids used was also new.”

  “I’m listening,” Maddox said.

  “What does Professor Ludendorff say about all this?”

  Maddox studied the blunt-faced android while considering the question. Instead of answering, he said, “First, tell me what you know about the Jotuns.”

  Batrun cocked his head. Was he processing? He straightened his head, and said, “We have come to believe that the Jotuns originated on a Jovian planet.”

  “The aliens are from a…from a Jupiter-like gas giant?”

  “Which would be one reason why the hauler fled deep into Jupiter,” Batrun said.

  Maddox absorbed that. The implications were astounding. Aliens at home in a Jovian gas world would be nothing like humans, nothing like Builders or even Swarm creatures. Why would such beings send spies onto—their way of thinking—a tiny terrestrial hard rock world? More importantly, how could such alien beings have acquired the spies in the first place? How did Jovian aliens communicate with humans?

  “Are there Jotuns on Jupiter?” Maddox asked. “I mean Jotuns other than any aboard the hauler.”

  “I deem that as possible, yes.”

  “Is there a Jotun colony on Jupiter?”

  “I doubt that.”

  “But…”

  Maddox tried to imagine what kind of ships Jovian aliens would construct. How would such aliens discover thermonuclear power? The conditions on Jupiter were vastly different from those on Earth.

  “Would Jotuns possess steel-hulled vessels like the hauler or hydro-lithium hulled ships?” Maddox asked.

  “That is an astute question, Captain, a scientific question. I had not expected that from you.”

  Maddox waited.

  “As you have surmised, as is obvious, the Jotuns would be unlike us in most ways,” Batrun said. “Possibly, high intelligence would be our only commonality. Likely, Jotuns breathe hydrogen at tremendous pressures. I would imagine that the bottom of your ocean—a place of immense pressure to human understanding—would be like a vacuum to them. It is quite possible they are comfortable at one hundred degrees below zero and drink liquid methane.”

  Maddox shook his head. “How do you know any of these things to be true if you haven’t met them?”

  “We don’t know these things as truth. It is our present working theory regarding them.”

  “Suppose you’re right,” Maddox said. “What would the Jotuns want with us?”

  “Since we believe they have already acted…” Batrun paused before saying, “It is our understanding that eliminating us—you—is their primary goal.”

  “Have you seen a Jotun spaceship?”

  Batrun shook his head.

  “Have you seen—?”

  “Let me stop you, Captain,” Batrun said. “What we have seen and felt is frightening enough. Jotun agents have been able to slip onto Earthlike worlds, mingle among humans and pinpoint androids with frightful ease. The Jotun agents have been reprogramming androids and making them their slaves, their puppets.”

  “Might that indicate a Builder posing as a Jotun instead of Jotuns?” Maddox asked.

  Batrun waited several seconds, perhaps processing the idea, before saying, “The possibility exists, certainly. That is partly why I wish to know what Professor Ludendorff thinks about all this.”

  “We’ll leave Ludendorff out of this for the present.”

  “That could be a mistake. We should pool our knowledge, all our knowledge.”

  “Is that why you’re here?” Maddox asked. “To try and kidnap Ludendorff? Or maybe you want the chance to kill the Methuselah Man.”

  “My help against the android marine should have convinced you that I am on your side.”

  “The android marine could have been a sacrificial plant to trick me into trusting you,” Maddox said forcefully. “Batrun, let me blunt. I have become exceedingly wary of androids. I suspect everything about you, your kind and your words.”

  “I know, and that is a pity. The androids are like the boy who cried wolf, only instead of falsely warning people, androids have repeatedly attempted to use humanity to further our ends. Now, in their moment of real crisis, the androids lack allies.”

  “There is an old saying,” Maddox said. “Cry me a river.”

  “Is that your final answer to the android plight?”

  “I don’t even know your plight.”

  “Isn’t it obvious? I have already stated it.”

  Maddox waited.

  Batrun sat utterly still, perhaps processing again. Finally, he nodded. “It is not obvious. We have made an error. We believed that you understood. This is galling. I would not have come here to you—”

  “Now!” Maddox shouted, as he jumped up from his chair and drew a blaster.

  Before Batrun could ask or react, powerful magnets embedded under the deck plates yanked the android from his chair and forced him flat on his back.

  By that time, Maddox had scrambled through the opened hatch. A second later, that hatch automatically shut with a clang.

  Several marines waited with android-killing weapons in the larger chamber where Maddox stood panting. Ludendorff and Riker were also there.

  “Well?” Maddox asked, as he straightened. “Do you have any idea what he thought we knew?”

  “Yes,” Ludendorff said. “He thought we knew the Jotuns—or whoever they represent—are turning androids with pitiful ease. He did tell us that, and that’s what has these Yen Cho androids so frightened. The ‘aliens’—and I say that with quotes—are using the androids. By that I mean, they are reprogramming them and making them their tools.”

  “How are the Jotuns doing this?”

  “I have not yet divined that part,” Ludendorff admitted.

  “Could Batrun be telling the truth that he really needs our help and wants to help us?”

  Ludendorff clasped the inner open edges of his white lab coat. “Captain, I believe him.”

  Maddox turned to the closed hatch.

  “I don’t trust him, sir,” Riker said. “Androids have given us small reason to ever trust one of them.”

  “True,” Maddox said, as he faced the others. “Professor, instead of waiting for this android to turn into something insanely dangerous, this time we’re going to dissect him. This time, we’re going to deal with the android on our terms.”

  “What if he really did come to help us and we desperately need his help but don’t yet know it?” Ludendorff asked.

  “Then we’ll tell Batrun we’re sorry after we tear him down and put him back together again,” Maddox said.

  “I may not have the skill to reassemble him after I’ve taken him apart,” Ludendorff said. “I am many things, but I am not a Builder tech.”

  Maddox thought about that, finally nodding. “Well, that’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

  -33-

  “Give me your weapon,” Maddox told the nearest marine.

  The marine began to shrug off the bulky power pack harnessed to his back. A flexible line from the pack was attached to a short firing rod.

  “Sir,” Riker said. “You going in is a bad idea.”

  “How do you propose turning off the android?” Maddox asked.

  “By sending powerful jolts of electricity through the deck plates,” the sergeant answered.

  Ludendorff objected, “That could irreparably harm the android’s circuits.”

  “Begging your pardon, Professor,” Riker said. “I don’t know that you’re sufficiently worried about the captain’s safety. That’s why no one is asking you.”

  Ludendorff scowled. “Since no one else has the capacity to dissect and reassemble the android, my opinion is of the utmost importance.” He pointed at the firing rod. “Not that I suggest using a weapon to turn him off. That is a killing tool.”

  “I know,” Maddox said, who snapped his fingers at the marine.

  The marine had slowed down at Riker’s objection. Now, he hurried up.

  “What if the android detonates rather than allowing anyone to turn him off?” Riker asked.

  Maddox didn’t answer, as he took the power pack from the marine and shrugged it onto his back. Since the captain had broader shoulders and a deeper chest, he had to loosen the pack’s straps. Soon, he cinched a belt around his waist and picked up the short firing rod.

  “I wish you would reconsider, sir,” Riker said. “The androids have screwed us far too often. I don’t want to scrape your remains off the floor.”

  “I appreciate the sentiment,” Maddox said. He nodded to a marine. “Open the hatch.”

  “I’m going with you,” Ludendorff said.

  “I think not,” Maddox said. “If Riker is correct about detonating androids, I want you alive. Besides, you can watch through a screen. I do not suggest you watch through the two-way mirror. The sergeant does have a point about detonations.”

  “Let me go, sir,” Riker said. “I’m far more expendable than you.”

  Maddox shook his head before using it to point at a marine.

  The man went to the hatch, ready to open it.

  “You’re just going to shoot it?” Ludendorff asked.

  “No,” Riker said.

  Maddox looked quizzically at the sergeant.

  “The captain has something else in mind,” Riker said, who studied Maddox. “Good luck, sir. I hope you know what you’re doing. Remember. The androids have almost always played us false.”

  “Open up,” Maddox told the marine.

  The hatch opened, and Maddox headed into the cell. As soon as he entered, the hatch clanged shut behind him.

  A loud hum informed the captain that the deck-plate magnetics still worked. He moved crossways in the room so he could look past the intervening table. Batrun was still flat on his back, pinned to the magnetized plates.

  The android couldn’t turn his head, but he could move his eyes. “Is this truly necessary?” Batrun asked in an altered voice, as he watched the captain from the corner of his eyes.

  Maddox hadn’t aimed the firing rod at him yet but kept the rod parallel with his right leg. The rod, line and pack were constructed out of non-ferrous material, which was why the deck magnets did not pull at them.

  “The strength of the magnetic pull and the containing duration could be detrimental to me,” Batrun said.

  “We’re at an impasse,” Maddox said, as he moved up. “I don’t trust you, as androids have played us false far too often. And yet, I wonder if you’re telling me the truth.”

  “I am,” Batrun said.

  “I need confirmation.”

  “Ah. Is that why you carry an android-killing weapon?”

  “I want to turn you off for the moment, but I’m not sure how.”

  “I see. You do not just want to kill me and be done with it?”

  “Before we proceed further, I want Ludendorff to study you.”

  “As if I were an insect, I presume.”

  “You’re comparing yourself to a Swarm creature?” asked Maddox.

  “You misunderstand. I mean an Earth insect like a bee or a wasp. You want to cut me apart to see how I tick.”

  “There you are,” Maddox said. “You understand.”

  “I will not permit such a thing to happen to me.”

  “Meaning…?”

  “Believe me when I say that I would rather cease existing than allow anyone to open me up. I am unique as you are unique.”

  “Does that mean you’re not a Yen Cho model android?”

  Batrun did not move his head, as likely, he could not. He did not twitch a finger or shift a booted foot. His eyes moved back and forth, however. That seemed to indicate deep thought.

  “I do not know how to confirm my data so you will believe me,” Batrun finally said. “But I can give you—I will only relate truthful information. I will start by admitting that I have given you some false data.”

  Maddox digested that. The desire to lift the rod and fire was strong. He wouldn’t fire to incapacitate the android, but to kill it. He now doubted the wisdom of his plan. Then he reasoned that no great thing was achieved without taking risks, sometimes, grave risks.

  “Can you detonate yourself?” Maddox asked.

  “Oh yes,” Batrun said.

  “Would the detonation kill me?”

  “It would likely destroy everyone within a one hundred and sixteen-meter radius, with myself as the focal point.”

  “So, you’re a living bomb?”

  “Not precisely,” Batrun said, “but effectively that is so. Now, to clear up some falsehoods that I propagated. I am not a Yen Cho model android. Those are old, as in antique models. I am one of the last series to leave a Builder factory. Indeed, I was not even called an android but a synthetic. I am a Batrun model synthetic and have superior capabilities compared to an antique Yen Cho android.”

  “Then—”

  “Let me finish, Captain. I do not belong to the Yen Cho faction, nor am I part of the Rull Nation Androids, as you deem them. We are the Watchers, and we have been observing the older androids as much as we have humanity. We have concluded that androids and humans are a poor mix. Humans do not trust androids and androids appear, over time, to have come to believe that they are a superior form of life.”

  “Are either androids or synthetics truly living beings in a biological sense?”

  “That is a moot point,” Batrun said from the floor. “We think, therefore we are alive, to paraphrase Descartes.”

  “Is Descartes a Builder?”

  “Captain,” Batrun chided. “Your ignorance is showing. Rene Descartes was a French philosopher. He coined the famous phrase, ‘I think, therefore I am.’”

  “Oh,” Maddox said. “Yes. I understand. What are you thinking now?”

  “There was an event approximately eight months ago,” Batrun said, ignoring Maddox’s question. “Several of our adepts recorded the event on an extremely sensitive machine. The event…speeded up a process.”

  “What event,” Maddox asked, “and what process?”

  “We are still attempting to decipher the first. The second—the Jotuns have moved before they were ready. Such is my belief, in any case.”

  “Moved against humanity?” Maddox asked.

  “Against any terrestrial-based life-forms,” Batrun said.

  “You’re suggesting the Jotuns truly are Jovian-based life?”

  “I am.”

  “What do they have against us?”

  “I do not know.”

  “What could have prodded them to move too soon?”

  “Is that not an interesting question?” Batrun asked. “Let me elucidate a little further. It appears that the prodding mechanism was a ray of some kind.”

  “Wait, wait, wait,” Maddox said, as he rubbed his forehead. “You’re suggesting that you Watchers have been observing everything from the sidelines?”

  “Poorly phrased and not altogether accurate,” Batrun said.

  “Why are you doing this and why show yourselves now?”

  “I do wish Professor Ludendorff was here,” Batrun said. “I dislike having to state such obvious facts.” The synthetic did not sigh or move in any way, but he seemed to process faster until he reached a decision. “There are only a few of us, Captain. We watch you… You do not need to know the reason why we do. You do not need to know our supreme quest. It is not at odds with your aims, although it is not congruent with them, either. We have debated for some time, however, whether it might be prudent to…to convince the others to leave Human Space and the near Beyond. We believe it would be better for both, groups, to exist on their own.”

  “Do you think of yourselves as Builders?” Maddox asked.

  “That is not germane to the issue at hand.”

  “That means you do,” Maddox said.

  “Do not presume to know how we view ourselves. It will only lead you to false conclusions.”

  “Oh, so you don’t think you’re Builders. That’s good. Are you searching for the Builders?”