CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Patrice
Until, without warning, the lead Doc stopped short and stood motionless, waiting for the rest to catch up, Patrice hardly noticed where they were going. She could not get what Dopey had said out of her mind. For centuries, if that is necessary. But centuries of what? Of carrying out Dopey's plan? Growing old, in this miserable place? Never going home again? Manufacturing a new Pat Adcock and a new Dopey and a new everybody else when the present ones were too old or too enfeebled to carry on? And then what? Then quietly allowing themselves to die, with the next generation in place… and the next… and the next…
Whatever joy that prospect might have for Dopey, it had none for Patrice. On the other hand-
On the other hand, she told herself, to test out the implications of it all, those replacements would likely include an allotment of new Dan Dannermans, so that there might be enough of him for Patrice to have one of her own. But then what? Make some more Pat Adcocks, too, so that Martin and Jimmy Lin might have mates as well? (And how would those new Pat Ad-cocks feel about that?) And what did you say to the new arrival, blinking and confused as he stepped out of the machine: "Hi, I'm Patrice, and we've copied you so that I can get laid now and then. Unfortunately there's not much else to do around here. But welcome."
The thought was comical enough to make Patrice laugh out loud. It wasn't a happy laugh, and it made Pat turn and frown at her. But none of the others heard, because Dopey was pounding his little fists on a machine that looked like a huge, green-enameled refrigerator and shrieking joyously, "That's it! That's the terminal."
Patrice looked around, bewildered. Everybody else seemed excited about it; even Rosaleen and Martin, supporting each other, tottered over to touch the thing, and Pat and Dannerman were hugging each other. "I've been here before," she whispered, so softly that no one heard. But it was true. It had been a different place then, everything working and intact, but it was where she and Patsy had first discovered themselves in this place.
It was different now, and what struck Patrice was the pervasive odor that hung in the air. It was the same decaying-meat stink she had smelled before. There definitely had been fighting around here, she thought. The terminal was intact, and so was everything on that side of the little square they were in. But on the other side ruined machinery and long-dead ashes showed that somebody had been doing something violent not long before. Dannerman turned to Dopey. "You said you were going to bring us to the experimental copies!" he said accusingly.
Dopey looked away from the Doc he was talking to. "The copies? Yes. Their space was quite near here. I do not see them, so perhaps-" He shrugged and returned to the Doc, which silently listened, then moved away.
Dannerman advanced on the alien, his gun in his hand, his expression dangerous. "If there are any human beings here we want to see them. Now!"
Dopey looked up at him, the kitten whiskers trembling, the plume draggled. "Certainly you can look around, Agent Dannerman. If any survive I do not think they would have gone far; this is where their food was kept. But please, remain on guard! The Horch machines were careful not to destroy this terminal, so it is quite likely one or more will be somewhere near this area to watch over it. And-"
He stopped, gazing toward the second Doc. Which had abruptly moved swiftly toward the wreckage and begun to pull away one of the metal plates. There was movement behind it. At once everybody turned, guns ready-
A face peered out of the space behind the plate. It was looking directly at Patrice. And, "Oh, God," said yet another Dr. Patrice Adcock, "you're more of me!"
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Patrice
It all evened out in the long run, Patrice thought to herself- wondering if she were going out of her mind: You lose one Pat, you get another to fill the gap. This particular Pat, though, was something special; she had clearly been through hell, even more hell than the rest of them. Her face was haggard, her bearing twitchy. Patrice longed to comfort her.
But reunions had to wait. Dopey had no particular interest in one Pat more or less-his main concern was dispatching one of the Docs to find the standby generator and start it up-and the only interest the new Pat showed in Dopey and his Docs was to stay as far away from them as she could. "First things first," Dannerman ordered. "I want somebody with a gun at every entrance in case one of those things shows up."
Nobody argued, though Patrice would have preferred to fuss over the new Pat, as Rosaleen alone could be spared to do, instead of standing guard, weapon out and ready, where she could see a few dozen meters down a passage. She wasn't doing a very good job of guarding. She couldn't help peering worriedly over her shoulder at the new Pat Adcock. The woman looked really terrible. Extreme fatigue, yes; that figured. Marks of pain and stress on her face, why not? She'd obviously been through a tough time; but there was something else that was nagging at Patrice while her new copy was doing her best to answer questions. And there were lots of questions. "Are there any others?" "Not anymore." "Do you mean the others are dead?" "Christ, yes! Can't you smell them? But listen, do you guys have anything to eat?"
Well, they didn't; Dopey had promised there would be all the food they wanted, once the terminal was working again, so why encumber themselves? (But Pat had observed he'd taken food for himself; probably that didn't count as an encumbrance.) He was fidgeting about, doing his best to ignore the petty human concerns. "Please," he begged in agitation. "It will be some time before the bearer can have the power on line, perhaps as much as an hour. Then all will be well, but now we are still in great danger. Be vigilant! We must not be stopped now, when we are so close- What?" Dannerman was saying something to him, pointing to the new Pat. "Oh, very well," Dopey said impatiently, and glanced at the two remaining Docs. Who at once moved toward the new Pat…
Who shrieked "Keep them away from me!" and turned as though about to run, but Dannerman stopped her.
"It's all right," he soothed. "Honest! I just want you checked over. This one's done it for us before, with Martin and Rosaleen. He's a kind of medical specialist-"
"I know what kind of specialists they are!" But by then the one Doc had her firmly held and the other was gently tapping and probing with its smaller arms, just as they had done with Martin Delasquez. The new Pat whimpered softly throughout the examination, but she didn't resist. The procedure took only a few moments. Then the Docs released her and stepped back, once again motionless in that corpselike standby mode.
"This transcription appears to be well enough," Dopey announced. "There is a certain amount of malnutrition, yes, but that will be mended when we have the terminal going. Otherwise her condition is normal, apart from some exhaustion-allowing, of course, for the fact that she is pregnant."
One conversation stopper after another, Patrice thought; the creature was full of them. She backed away from her sentry post-not so far that she couldn't still see down the short corridor, far enough so that she could look their new recruit in the face. "Are you, uh, all right?" she asked.
The woman stared at her, backing away from Dopey and the Docs. "He says so," she said shortly. And then, "Well, I guess I am. More or less." She was looking from Pat to Patrice; it seemed a time for introductions.
"I'm Patrice; this is Pat. There was another one-well," Patrice said, firmly closing that topic, "there was another one, but she died. What should we call you?"
The newcomer opened her eyes wide at that, but she answered civilly enough. "The others just called me Pat, mostly, because there was usually only one of us alive at a time. But Rosaleen said I was Pat Five, if that helps."