requirements of shipboard life. It fanned out around her face as Kim swallowed the last of the breakfast biscuit, wondered what it was made of, and decided that she didn't really want to know. Given what she'd learned about recycling and hydroponics, the answer would probably amaze and disgust her. She gave the drink dispenser a squeeze and used the last squirt of coffee to wash whatever it was down.
Kim had a natural affinity for all things technical, features that were slightly Asiatic, and a figure that turned heads. Taken together they made a formidable combination. Something Kim knew but didn't spend much time thinking about.
Kim steeled herself against what she knew she would see, touched the in-ship com screen, and watched it come to life. She selected electronic mail, entered a password, and scrolled through the reams of electronic garbage that Jopp sent out every day. There were general orders, dos and don'ts of every kind, and endless notices. They made for hours of reading, or would have, except that nobody actually read them.
But here and there, sprinkled in between the official boiler plate, were the personal messages that people actually cared about. These ran the gamut from, "Kim, how 'bout doing a story about the engineering section?" to, "Hey Kim, lose the one-eyed freak, and join me for some R & R." Useful at best, annoying at worst, but nothing to worry about.
Not until a few hours ago when Kim had discovered a message that was different from all the rest. A message that sent a chill down her spine. And there it was, blinking on the screen, filling her with dread.
TELL YOUR HUSBAND TO LEAVE US ALONE. TELL YOUR HUSBAND TO LEAVE US ALONE. TELL YOUR HUSBAND TO LEAVE US ALONE. WE KNOW WHERE YOU ARE. WE KNOW WHERE YOU ARE. WE KNOW WHERE YOU ARE. WE CAN KILL YOU. WE CAN KILL YOU. WE CAN KILL YOU.
Kim took one last look at the words, marked them, and hit the delete key.
"Delete text?" the computer inquired. "Y or N?"
Kim touched "Y." She wanted a cigarette and popped a mint instead.
The words disappeared but the fear remained. Who had sent the message? The most likely answer was Havlik's killer or killers, but that didn't make much sense, since Rex wasn't anywhere near discovering their identities. Or was he? There must be some reason for the warning. And what did the "we" part mean? Were a number of people involved? Or was that a ruse designed to throw the investigators off?
Kim stared at the empty screen. Why hadn't she told Rex? It was the obvious thing to do. Because he'd go crazy, that's why. He'd react like a bloodhound on the scent, head straight for danger, and get himself killed. Then where would she be? On Mars, that's where, all by herself, minus the one person that she cared about. No, there had to be another way, a strategy that would allow her to defend against danger while avoiding her husband's self-destructive tendencies.
And that brought her to the task at hand. Rex was away, off looking for the source of the mysterious booming sound, so this was the perfect time to bring Martin back to life. If a computer, even a sentient computer, can be said to "live."
But Kim was a pragmatist and classified such questions as little more than academic constipation.
Martin could acquire, reject, and process information. He could modify his actions based on past experience, he knew right from wrong, and he had feelings. Not the full range of emotions that humans experience, but feelings nonetheless, and all of those things taken together made Martin more than a machine.
And it had been those emotions, loyalty in particular, that had brought the reop, video editor, and computer intelligence together.
Martin had been the previous President's personal computer, communications center, and administrative assistant all rolled into one. Constructed to fit into an antique desk, the artificial intelligence, or A.I., had occupied a prominent place in the Oval office. And, when President Hawkins had been
Kim had a natural affinity for all things technical, features that were slightly Asiatic, and a figure that turned heads. Taken together they made a formidable combination. Something Kim knew but didn't spend much time thinking about.
Kim steeled herself against what she knew she would see, touched the in-ship com screen, and watched it come to life. She selected electronic mail, entered a password, and scrolled through the reams of electronic garbage that Jopp sent out every day. There were general orders, dos and don'ts of every kind, and endless notices. They made for hours of reading, or would have, except that nobody actually read them.
But here and there, sprinkled in between the official boiler plate, were the personal messages that people actually cared about. These ran the gamut from, "Kim, how 'bout doing a story about the engineering section?" to, "Hey Kim, lose the one-eyed freak, and join me for some R & R." Useful at best, annoying at worst, but nothing to worry about.
Not until a few hours ago when Kim had discovered a message that was different from all the rest. A message that sent a chill down her spine. And there it was, blinking on the screen, filling her with dread.
TELL YOUR HUSBAND TO LEAVE US ALONE. TELL YOUR HUSBAND TO LEAVE US ALONE. TELL YOUR HUSBAND TO LEAVE US ALONE. WE KNOW WHERE YOU ARE. WE KNOW WHERE YOU ARE. WE KNOW WHERE YOU ARE. WE CAN KILL YOU. WE CAN KILL YOU. WE CAN KILL YOU.
Kim took one last look at the words, marked them, and hit the delete key.
"Delete text?" the computer inquired. "Y or N?"
Kim touched "Y." She wanted a cigarette and popped a mint instead.
The words disappeared but the fear remained. Who had sent the message? The most likely answer was Havlik's killer or killers, but that didn't make much sense, since Rex wasn't anywhere near discovering their identities. Or was he? There must be some reason for the warning. And what did the "we" part mean? Were a number of people involved? Or was that a ruse designed to throw the investigators off?
Kim stared at the empty screen. Why hadn't she told Rex? It was the obvious thing to do. Because he'd go crazy, that's why. He'd react like a bloodhound on the scent, head straight for danger, and get himself killed. Then where would she be? On Mars, that's where, all by herself, minus the one person that she cared about. No, there had to be another way, a strategy that would allow her to defend against danger while avoiding her husband's self-destructive tendencies.
And that brought her to the task at hand. Rex was away, off looking for the source of the mysterious booming sound, so this was the perfect time to bring Martin back to life. If a computer, even a sentient computer, can be said to "live."
But Kim was a pragmatist and classified such questions as little more than academic constipation.
Martin could acquire, reject, and process information. He could modify his actions based on past experience, he knew right from wrong, and he had feelings. Not the full range of emotions that humans experience, but feelings nonetheless, and all of those things taken together made Martin more than a machine.
And it had been those emotions, loyalty in particular, that had brought the reop, video editor, and computer intelligence together.
Martin had been the previous President's personal computer, communications center, and administrative assistant all rolled into one. Constructed to fit into an antique desk, the artificial intelligence, or A.I., had occupied a prominent place in the Oval office. And, when President Hawkins had been
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