assassinated by his chief of staff, Martin had been the only witness. A witness the conspirators had never thought to silence. A witness that was determined to avenge the President's death.
Working by himself at first, and then with Rex and Kim, the computer had played a significant role in foiling the computer coup and preventing Samuel Numalo from forming a single world government.
But with the restoration of a legitimate government, and the long succession of hearings and trials that followed, Martin had been relieved of his duties at the White House and relegated to providing endless hours of testimony.
Eventually, after the legal cases had come to an end, so did Martin's usefulness. He was an embarrassment, an unwelcome reminder that even the best security systems are fallible, as are the people that run them.
And there were those, especially in the CIA, NSA, and Secret Service who wanted his memory scrubbed. They claimed Martin was a repository of classified information and a threat to national security.
But Martin was a celebrity by then, having been the only machine to make the cover of Time magazine, and the public was outraged. Mind-wipe the patriotic computer who had helped defend the country's freedom? Never!
Negotiations had ensued, and when Corvan suggested that Martin emigrate to Mars, the authorities had leaped at the chance to get rid of him.
That explained why Martin was aboard the ship and resident in a battered suitcase.
What it didn't explain was why Kim made her way to a storage cabinet, unlocked the door, and removed Martin's suitcase. By doing so she violated the agreement by which the A.I. had come aboard. The Outward Bound was a complicated and somewhat fragile environment. There was no room for random computer entities, crew members who did their own thing, or personal strategies that cut across the lines of authority.
It was the sort of thing that Rex would do, the sort of thing that drove her crazy, and the sort of thing that led to trouble.
Kim knew that, worried about it, and opened the suit case anyway. Martin might cause trouble, but he might prevent trouble too, and she would accept the risk.
Martin wasn't much to look at. Just a gray metal box and a row of LED's. There were twelve altogether and one of them glowed green. Good. Martin's internal power supply was functioning, and so was he, though at a comparatively low level.
Kim pushed the suitcase over to a small work bench and strapped it down. She looked for and found Martin's power port, plugged him into the ship-wide system, and flipped a switch.
A humming noise came from inside Martin's casing. The second LED glowed green, then another, and another, until all twelve were lit up.
Kim nodded her satisfaction, removed a patch cord from the wall clips above the bench, and plugged it into the panel located on the right side of Martin's box. The other end went into the side of her head.
"Martin?"
Music flooded her mind. It was big, orchestral, and reminiscent of the classical composers. The melody soared, and Kim soared with it, rising on wave after wave of pure emotion, until her throat grew tight and her breath came in shallow gasps. Then the sound broke like surf on a coral reef, crashed into a magnificent explosion of foam, and slid into a silent lagoon.
Martin entered her mind as the last strains of the music died away. "Did you like it?"
It took Kim a moment to gather her thoughts. "Like it? I loved it. Who wrote it? And where did it come from?"
"I wrote it," Martin said proudly. "I used a Microsoft program called Composer 4.1 to synthesize the sounds. You really liked it? You sentients lie so well that it's hard to tell sometimes."
Kim laughed. "No, I really liked it."
"Good. Are we on Mars?"
Having been locked up inside the suitcase, and having no external sensors, Martin had no way to keep track of where he was or what was happening.
"Nope, the journey has just begun."
"Then what's going on? I thought the big
Working by himself at first, and then with Rex and Kim, the computer had played a significant role in foiling the computer coup and preventing Samuel Numalo from forming a single world government.
But with the restoration of a legitimate government, and the long succession of hearings and trials that followed, Martin had been relieved of his duties at the White House and relegated to providing endless hours of testimony.
Eventually, after the legal cases had come to an end, so did Martin's usefulness. He was an embarrassment, an unwelcome reminder that even the best security systems are fallible, as are the people that run them.
And there were those, especially in the CIA, NSA, and Secret Service who wanted his memory scrubbed. They claimed Martin was a repository of classified information and a threat to national security.
But Martin was a celebrity by then, having been the only machine to make the cover of Time magazine, and the public was outraged. Mind-wipe the patriotic computer who had helped defend the country's freedom? Never!
Negotiations had ensued, and when Corvan suggested that Martin emigrate to Mars, the authorities had leaped at the chance to get rid of him.
That explained why Martin was aboard the ship and resident in a battered suitcase.
What it didn't explain was why Kim made her way to a storage cabinet, unlocked the door, and removed Martin's suitcase. By doing so she violated the agreement by which the A.I. had come aboard. The Outward Bound was a complicated and somewhat fragile environment. There was no room for random computer entities, crew members who did their own thing, or personal strategies that cut across the lines of authority.
It was the sort of thing that Rex would do, the sort of thing that drove her crazy, and the sort of thing that led to trouble.
Kim knew that, worried about it, and opened the suit case anyway. Martin might cause trouble, but he might prevent trouble too, and she would accept the risk.
Martin wasn't much to look at. Just a gray metal box and a row of LED's. There were twelve altogether and one of them glowed green. Good. Martin's internal power supply was functioning, and so was he, though at a comparatively low level.
Kim pushed the suitcase over to a small work bench and strapped it down. She looked for and found Martin's power port, plugged him into the ship-wide system, and flipped a switch.
A humming noise came from inside Martin's casing. The second LED glowed green, then another, and another, until all twelve were lit up.
Kim nodded her satisfaction, removed a patch cord from the wall clips above the bench, and plugged it into the panel located on the right side of Martin's box. The other end went into the side of her head.
"Martin?"
Music flooded her mind. It was big, orchestral, and reminiscent of the classical composers. The melody soared, and Kim soared with it, rising on wave after wave of pure emotion, until her throat grew tight and her breath came in shallow gasps. Then the sound broke like surf on a coral reef, crashed into a magnificent explosion of foam, and slid into a silent lagoon.
Martin entered her mind as the last strains of the music died away. "Did you like it?"
It took Kim a moment to gather her thoughts. "Like it? I loved it. Who wrote it? And where did it come from?"
"I wrote it," Martin said proudly. "I used a Microsoft program called Composer 4.1 to synthesize the sounds. You really liked it? You sentients lie so well that it's hard to tell sometimes."
Kim laughed. "No, I really liked it."
"Good. Are we on Mars?"
Having been locked up inside the suitcase, and having no external sensors, Martin had no way to keep track of where he was or what was happening.
"Nope, the journey has just begun."
"Then what's going on? I thought the big
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