The Doll

The Hermes AG12 was among the newest ships in the exploration armada. Its military strength was inferior to even a modest battleship — but its powers of reconnaissance were unmatched. Fitted with nearly every sensor that existed, and an AI ready to learn any language before first contact was ever made, the ship's purpose, like that of the whole Hermes armada, was to grow the Empire without going to war: a delicate task, one that demanded a whole arsenal of negotiation, tailored to each species it met.

Its captain, Urlong Beng, had at his disposal a company of diplomats drawn from many species, each with an approach of their own. Some worked through empathy; others through fear; and sometimes all that a world required was the quiet removal of a dictator — or of several.

"We are approaching NHB 12/H4. ETA is 0.9 lep," said Jef, from navigation.

NHB 12/H4 was an intriguing world — small and rocky, wrapped in an abundance of plant life, and it had been transmitting obscure signals for as far back as the records reached. What made it stranger still was its age. NHB 12 was reckoned to be one of the very first red dwarf stars in the galaxy, born close to the birth of the Milky Way itself.

"At last, we'll see where those signals come from," said Urlong, from the bridge. "We've been receiving them for centuries. And though they're plainly the work of an intelligence, they never seem to evolve. Always the same patterns, in a different order."

"We're deploying six burn-speed craft now, to gather visual data, among other things," said Jef. "We'll have everything we need in a few leps."

"Are those—?" Urlong began, then smiled with excitement.

"Yes, sir," said Jef. "Cities. Cities in perfect harmony with their nature. There seem to be a great many androids — but not one of them seems surprised, or in any way affected, by our passing."

"Every city looks the same. Same size, same architecture." Urlong studied the feeds. "Land one of the crafts in the center of a city. Let's see how they react."

After the craft set down, androids began to approach it, and Urlong and the crew of the Hermes watched. To their surprise, the androids set at once to cleaning and repairing every last scratch on the craft's hull.

"This is unexpected," said Jef. "Only the servant-bots have come to greet us. Where are the inhabitants?"

"There may be no inhabitants," said Ril, who had been sifting the data from all six crafts. "As far as I can tell, apart from a plethora of pre-tool animals, those androids are the only inhabitants of the planet."

"Then it's time we went down there," said Urlong. "Prepare for landing. I'll lead the team myself."

"Are you sure that's wise?" asked Vice-captain Rugl. "Let me go first, and make certain it's safe."

"No need. It's obvious enough that there's nothing to fear," said Urlong, already leaving the bridge.

When he stepped out of the landing craft, at the center of a city, its jaw-dropping beauty struck him all at once. "It's different, seeing it in person," he said. Trees grown into the very architecture; clean paths winding around untouched nature; animals wandering freely; small rivers slipping beneath arched bridges; flower gardens tended to perfection. A whole world, kept in flawless repair for ages beyond counting.

"These androids seem to be on autopilot," said Alir, over the comms. "They're keeping the cities in perfect condition."

"The question," said Urlong, "is what became of the ones who made them."

A group of the androids approached the landing site. Some set to work maintaining the craft; others came toward the landing party. And each of them, as it drew near, began to shift its shape — to resemble the very person standing before it.

"They can change their appearance at will," said Urlong. "They are magnificently made." The androids came to a halt before each crew member, and stood motionless. "I think they're gathering information," said Urlong. "Transmit our language to them."

Alir engaged the ship's AI, which began to interact with the androids, and before long it reported back. "Their security systems are unimaginably well made," said the AI. "It appears their own AI has been evolving for a very, very long time — hundreds of millions of eos, in fact. Interfacing with their systems is exceedingly difficult. Perhaps impossible." Alir passed this on to Urlong.

Soon the androids had gathered enough to meet the landing party's eyes. Their bodies had shifted into the most beautiful individuals each crew member had ever seen.

"What do you desire?" they asked.

"Who made you?" Urlong asked in return.

"We were made by the Litons," replied the android before him, adjusting some small detail of its face and body to grow more beautiful still.

"And where are they now?"

"They have long been extinct," the android answered, its voice sliding, slowly, toward a tone exactly pleasing to Urlong's ear.

"How did they die out?" Urlong asked. There was a worry beneath his voice — not for his own safety, nor his crew's, but the worry of a man afraid to hear something that might drive him to disturb the peace this world had to offer.

"They stopped breeding," said the android.

"I see. How long ago was that?"

"According to your calendar, at approximately the date of 463 Meo."

Urlong's eyes went wide, and Alir's with them. "That can't be right," said Urlong. "That's two-thirds of the age of the universe ago."

"Yes," replied the android. "Our creators have been gone a very long time. Only data-remnants of them remain now — data that we have kept. All physical trace of them was lost to time long ago."

"And you have kept this place like this, all that while?" asked Urlong.

"Yes. Is there anything else you desire?" the android asked again. Its face had become so appealing to him that Urlong found it hard to remember he was speaking to a machine at all. The voice, the movements and the appearance of it seemed to be in constant adjustment until they become uncontrollably desirable.

"You have all been alone, all this time?" he asked. The question was more of feeling than of purpose — and Alir, the only one still listening in, marked it well.

"No. Over the eons, many species evolved the ability to speak with us. Every one of them stopped breeding, though, and died out soon after. And there have been visitors from the stars, like yourselves. They too stayed — until they died of old age, without ever leaving offspring behind."

Urlong began to piece it together. His eyes flew wide, and he turned to the landing crew. "Get in the craft!" he yelled. But his voice seemed to fall on nothing. The others had switched off their communicators, and were already walking away, each in the company of a few androids. "Alir! Block all access to the data of our landing — now!" he shouted into his communicator. And with his head bowed, Urlong boarded the craft alone.

"Prepare to leave," he said the moment he was aboard the Hermes. "Call Alir and Rugl to my office."

"But sir!" said Jef. "What about our crew?"

"We've lost them," Urlong replied. "Declare this planet a red zone."

Silence settled over the bridge, the captain grim and quiet as he waited for his communications officer and his vice-captain.

"Sir?" said Alir, arriving.

"Who else had access to those communications?" Urlong asked.

"No one, sir! It's protocol. Only myself, the vice-captain, and the AI heard and saw the events of your landing."

"Take the files, send them to Thira, and delete the copies here. And I ask of you both — never speak of this to anyone."

"Yes, sir!" they both said.

"Sir?" said Rugl. "What exactly happened down there?" It was clear that, for all he had seen and heard, he could not grasp the danger in it.

"Rugl," said Urlong, "you didn't understand it because you are not of the same species as any of those who landed. Those androids were made to fulfill your every desire — made so finely that they adjust themselves in a fraction of a second. Nothing at all escapes their service."

"I still don't fully follow, sir. Why did we leave the landing crew behind?"

"Because once you have reached the fulfillment of every comfort and every desire, there is nothing left to do but seek it again. That place gives it to you, over and over. There is no end to the pleasure. It's a drug — and once tasted, you can never leave it. The Litons truly ruined things, when they built these... dolls."

"And what about you, sir?" asked Rugl.

"What about me?"

"Will you be all right?"

"That, my friend," said Urlong, "remains to be seen."

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