Pathfinder (Pathfinder 1)

“The atmosphere is breathable without apparatus.”

“And the other colonists?”

“We have brought them to the surface of Garden and they are ready to be wakened. We await only your command.”

“How . . . deferent of you.”

“Your ironic tone prompts us to wonder what your true meaning might be.”

“It is not within the limits of your programming,” said Ram.

“This is more irony,” said the expendable. “I know this because all your meanings and intentions are, by definition, within the limits of our programming.”

“Let me see this world, and then I’ll start making decisions about wakening the colonists.”

Ram allowed the expendable to lead him outside into the bright sunshine. A collection of a dozen white plastic buildings gleamed and shimmered without blinding him. The buildings were surrounded by hundreds of acres of fully planted fields, nearing harvest.

“You’ve been busy,” said Ram.

“We were programmed to make sure the soil was viable and the climate bearable, and to have crops ready to harvest. The colony will begin by learning how to harvest the crops, prepare them for non-refrigerated preservation, and process the necessary rations for immediate consumption.”

“Since you did all this without human help, why don’t you simply continue?”

“This is not a colony of expendables. The idea is to establish human life on Garden in such a way as to maximize the chances of survival, even if the level of locally sustainable technology should fall.”

“Aren’t you able to create replacement parts for yourself and all the other machinery?” asked Ram.

“We are programmed to establish human life on Garden in such a way as to maximize the chances of survival, even if the level of locally sustainable technology should fall.”

So there was going to be no more explanation than that. Ram had no choice but to assume that at some point, the expendables would withdraw their help, and planting and harvest and preservation of the food supply would be entirely in the hands of the colonists. Ram would have no control over the expendables; he would find out nothing they did not wish to tell them; in all likelihood they were already lying to him.

Which meant that life here would be pretty much the way it was on Earth, with the expendables in the role of government, or at least management. To all intents and purposes, Ram was a figurehead—as long as they were dependent on the expendables for their daily bread.

So if the expendables were programmed to make themselves obsolete by training human beings to be self-sustaining, it could not happen a moment too soon for Ram.

“Come on, my friend,” he said. “Let’s wake these people up.”

• • •

The man who looked like Father sat cross-legged on the ground, and Rigg and Umbo sat directly across from him. Param sat beside Umbo. Loaf and Olivenko were seated on Rigg’s other side. It could have been a session of school in Fall Ford.

“So far I haven’t understood a word he said,” Umbo murmured.

“It’s not a language I’ve ever heard before,” said Rigg.

“I don’t think he’s your father,” said Umbo.

“If he is, he’s completely forgotten me,” said Rigg. “Did you see any sign of recognition?”

The man who looked like Father raised a hand, palm out, to silence them. He pointed toward the Wall and said something that sounded like this: “Ochto-zheck-gho-boishta-jong-nk.”

From the quizzical expression on his face, Rigg gathered that the question was: Did you come through the Wall? So Rigg nodded, then pointed to himself and each of his companions in turn, made a gesture placing all of them on the far side of the Wall, and then with his fingers made walking motions from that direction toward their present location. In words, he said, “We were on the far side of the Wall, an

d we crossed it and came here.”

The man who looked like Father nodded, then closed his eyes.

Three seconds later he opened them. “Is this your language?” he asked.