The Cyborg Chronicles (The Future Chronicles)

by Peralta, Samuel

  There was a volcanic outbreak in the valley not far from the site, a column of smoke that had not been there before, but still a mere volcanic fart in comparison to the Armageddon Io was capable of unleashing. Most of the dust had settled in a ring, some over the planned settlement. A line of trucks approached in the adjacent valley, from where many tire tracks led to the building site. The trailers contained long sections of metal, prefab pieces of a length that couldn't possibly fit inside a dome.

  “Damn it, Vivie, what is ISF doing down there?” The contract Eilin signed had only covered earthquake barriers, and had said nothing about the purpose of the base. Back then, she hadn't worried about it, but now she felt that she should have.

  “Can I have a look?” Moira said.

  Eilin patched the image to her screen.

  The Thor III had released the last of the balloons and, fully powered up, was climbing to a higher altitude, waiting for the balloons to disperse. The deck under Eilin's feet vibrated with the power of the engine.

  Jadie was taking measurements: how much the balloons moved, wind speeds, temperature, air composition.

  That was the real value of the expedition: collecting a more complete set of data of the conditions. Previous attempts at floating habitable platforms at Jupiter had failed due to multiple difficulties: the considerable wind speeds, the huge weight necessary for radiation shielding. But radiation shielding was one of Allion's specialties, and new, much lighter materials had become available, materials that were thin and flexible, like human skin. More expensive to make, but also more lucrative to sell.

  “They're carrying components of a launch pad,” Moira said.

  Eilin squinted at the image. Moira had worked at the space port on Ganymede before coming to Allion; she would know.

  Moira continued, “It's not a base at all, but a launch installation. Makes sense, close to the equator. Io's escape velocity is low enough that you can launch from the surface without much trouble.”

  “What would they plan to launch?”

  “I honestly couldn't be sure, Madam President, but since they're so secretive, it's quite unlikely that we will like it.”

  Damn. So much could go wrong.

  This Jupiter project was vulnerable, and damned expensive. Any hitch might result in failure.

  Allion Aerospace needed inhabitable platforms. The Forthright had become too crowded. Besides, Eilin had the vessel slotted into trials. It would be fitted with new engines and sent out into deep space for months at a time, to build up speeds beyond comprehension as final test of the mass-to-distance ratio for micro-second FTL jumps. The ship had never been intended to function as habitat, and the company's workers, the breeding labs, the children and pregnant women deserved to be kept safe from experimental technology, which, when it went wrong would do so in a spectacular way. Yet ISF had successfully barred Allion from settlements on extra-terrestrial bodies.

  The standoff between ISF and the commercial operators was tense. Allion needed a safe base to offload its worker population. There was no place safer than one no one else had the technology to reach. No other company could bring people down to the clouds of Jupiter. And whatever ISF was planning might stop Allion building those platforms. They might claim a military exclusion zone around the planet and back it up with the in-orbit hardware. They might be developing fusion engines of their own, in which case they, too, needed to harvest Helium-3 from Jupiter, but if they could get down there, they would almost certainly find some legality by which they could challenge Allion's presence. Get out or we'll shoot. Eilin had seen it all before.

  Damn it, damn it, damn it.

  Jadie said, “Madam President, if you excuse me. The system's now in operation. We can start the projection.” Waiting for Eilin's go-ahead. She had the Fenosa logo on the screen ready to be transmitted to the balloons down there. A silly exercise indeed.

  The silence on the bridge stretched.

  Eilin added up the facts.

  Daniel and Oscar were still out of communication. ISF were being obtuse; they had a column of equipment approaching the site. The operator had said, you have no personnel on Io, and had cut off communication. And, judging by the material on the trucks, ISF was building a launch installation which no one was supposed to know about.

  Put like this, the reaction from Calico made sense: they hadn't realized that the Allion team to install the earthquake barrier contained sentients, possible spies for Allion Aerospace. And Daniel's call for help and her subsequent inquiry might well have brought the men into danger.

  Eilin said, “Wait.”

  Daniel stood on the roof of the cabin and waved. He wasn't sure if the approaching convoy's drivers could see him yet. Maybe it was too dark, although most of the dust had settled. Could people see well by this level of light? The limited senses of natural humans puzzled him sometimes.

  Something flashed at the edge of his vision. In the sky. Lights sparkled in one of Jupiter's cream-colored bands.

  For a moment, Daniel forgot his own predicament. He knew of the company's project that was called the most futile waste of energy in human history by politicians and news commentators alike. He knew how important the project was to the company, to Eilin. Individual pinpricks flashed on and off until they all pulsed at the same time, and formed a line of sparkling blue letters:

  CAREFUL DON’T TRUST THEM

  Daniel stared at the text, even as the display winked off and was replaced by the Fenosa Communications logo.

  What the . . .

  [emergency override]

  He couldn't stop the damn thing engaging.

  [options: 1. it was a message, 2. it was a mistake]

  [consideration: 1. Eilin was directing the operation and Eilin doesn't make mistakes, 2. someone else has accidentally displayed the wrong text]

  Given those options, why would someone accidentally display a piece of text that was clearly a warning? An accidental display would have involved something nonsensical, like a piece of programming code.

  [conclusion: 1. it is a message and 2. it is directed to someone who isn't aware of danger]

  But who? The only people Allion had who could possibly read it were:

  [conclusion: 1. himself and Oscar, 2 . . . Forthright]

  No, scratch that; the Forthright would be in radio contact, unless contact had broken, which was not implausible, but . . .

  [warning--]

  “Shut up! I can think for myself.”

  The subroutine went silent.

  Daniel peered at the horizon, at the convoy, and let a few very slow seconds pass.

  Don't trust them. Did she mean . . .

  The trucks had stopped a distance off. The doors opened and a couple of suited men came out. He zoomed in his vision as far as it would go, a setting which he could never maintain for long, because it made him dizzy.

  One of the men carried a long object on his shoulder. A second man unfolded a stand, and the first man lowered the long object onto it. As they swung it around, Daniel knew what it was. He knew the type of laser gun. He saw where they were aiming it and knew that the truck's feeble exterior would offer no protection.

  Daniel jumped off the truck's roof in knee-deep ash. He yanked open the door, crawled in. Oscar was still attached to the leads, but he pulled them loose, slung his brother over his shoulder and jumped out of the truck. All within ten seconds.

  He ran.

  There was a faint thud behind him.

  Questions from the press rolled in almost immediately.

  What did that warning mean, who was it for? While the Thor III was still climbing out of Jupiter's immediate pull, Eilin tried to deflect most of the news hawks to Jacob, but she spoke briefly to the Fenosa president, who demanded to know the reason for the errant text. After she explained the situation, mostly in professional code, the conversation was amicable. Like Allion, Fenosa resented the monopoly ISF had on interplanetary settlement. Unlike Allion, Fenosa didn't have the tech to do anythin
g about it. Eilin spoke for a while about the balloons, without giving away anything about Allion's settlement plans, then the Fenosa president signed off.

  Jadie said, “Madam President, a man from ISF wants to talk to you, on vid.”

  Eilin nodded, grimly. She had expected some shit to hit the proverbial. Calico Base would have seen the message. Seeing she had just contacted them, they would put the two together.

  The man who appeared on the screen was a typical military monkey, all stiff and proper, and, given the situation, not particularly friendly, which didn't surprise her.

  “Miss Gunnarsson?”

  Eilin attached the earpiece on her head. “Speaking.” With an odd twinge, she realized she preferred Madam President. The title Miss made assumptions about her. Her crew and her staff never made assumptions about her.

  That's because they all know I'm a cold bitch.

  No, it was because long ago, her forebears had gone into the industry fighting a battle and with a point to prove: that women could work in space and do the tech just as well as men. More than eighty percent of Allion's workforce was female. Few were married. Miss was appropriate from his point of view, but not from hers.

  “I am Base Commander Werner of Calico Base.” Yes that was the guy she'd met at Prometheus, ISF's large mining and research base on Io. “I've heard you've made requests to speak with me. Can you explain your position?”

  Nothing about the warning she'd just beamed across the system. Let's just pretend it hasn't happened, shall we?

  “I'm on the Allion Aerospace Ltd utility vessel Thor III. We received a distress signal, and we've asked what is being done in the way of rescue of our personnel, because if nothing is being done, I will ask permission to send someone.” That's right. Let them come out about any unpublicized military exclusion zones they might have designated around Io.

  “That's not necessary. We have a team on site at the moment. They found the truck, but no sign of the two aggregates.” He said the word as if he would have preferred to say something offensive, like cyborgs.

  “Is the truck in working order? There are also a number of tech-bots with the team, all of them slaved to the aggregates. They will be able to locate other team members.” The words bodies and salvage were not ones she could handle at the moment. Damn, she hoped her warning had come in time. She glanced at the communication crew on the bridge. Where was the next satellite image?

  Commander Werner continued, “Sadly, the truck has been damaged in what seems to have been an eruption. We've found no evidence that anyone occupied it at the time. If you're in contact with the aggregates, I would appreciate if you provide their location and vital stats. Do they need resupply soon?”

  Vivie shot Eilin a warning look, one that said don't tell him anything. Eilin noticed she had something on her screen. The image from the spy-probe.

  So she went into bullshit mode. “Whether we can locate the aggregates depends on their power level, and we don't have readings of that level of detail.”

  “You have their location?” Werner asked.

  “My information is no more detailed than yours.”

  “Then we will do all we can to find them.”

  Eilin signed off and turned to Vivie, her heart thudding. “Is there any news?”

  “Madam President. Have a look at this.” She projected the image on Eilin's viewscreen. At first, Eilin thought the Allion truck had somehow managed to get out of the crevice, but then she noticed the debris: the truck had exploded.

  Eilin stared at the wreck, sickness rising. “No. They can't have . . .”

  “Excuse me, Madam President?”

  Eilin felt like screaming at her don't call me that. “They've shot the truck to bits.” She enlarged the image, fixated on a fuzzy man-shaped spot in the sand. Dead or alive?

  “Madam President?” Jadie's expression was full of concern.

  Eilin held up her hands, swallowing hard, fighting black spots in her vision. “I'm fine--really.” But she wasn't, not by a long shot. People said she was cold and aloof, that she didn't care about people's feelings. But she cared a lot . . . about her boys, and she'd never even told them what they were. “Vivie, can you put something else up?” And then she added, “Please, call me Eilin.”

  Daniel crouched between the rocks and let Oscar sink to the ground. The convoy had started moving again and he hoped to hell the occupants hadn't seen him run from the exploding wreck. He raised himself on his knees, peering over the ragged stone.

  The trucks came nearer, and nearer, and then rumbled past without stopping at the shell of the exploded vehicle. Daniel switched to IR view. There was only one manned truck, the first one, with three people aboard, and the rest were slaved vehicles.

  The convoy came to a halt at the destroyed earthquake barrier. The human drivers would now realize that there was nothing they could do with the odd installation they had brought. The site was a mess, with the barrier destroyed and a new volcano still spewing ash. They would have to turn and go back the same way, along the goat track that led to Calico Base.

  Daniel had an idea. It was not an idea that came to him because of his decision-making modules; this idea was his, and it came from Eilin, because she had read him stories about naughty adventurous boys on Earth, boys who caught rides on trams. It was a human idea.

  Flushed with excitement, he heaved Oscar into a position from which he could easily pick him up, and waited. The first truck was already turning, reversing lights flashing in the semidarkness. And then the second truck turned, and the third . . .

  The column crawled into motion.

  Daniel waited while the first truck rumbled past, and as soon as the second one followed, he heaved Oscar onto his shoulders and ran. The dust was knee-deep in some places, and catching up with the convoy was harder than he had anticipated. The flat truck-bed was stacked with crates of equipment and two enormous rolls of cable. He tried to shove things aside while running, but couldn't do that, so he pushed Oscar on top of some packages on the trailer bed. He had to hold on to prevent Oscar's limp form sliding off while he clambered on himself, his calf muscles screaming.

  Still holding onto Oscar's arm, Daniel collapsed on the bumpy and uncomfortable surface, black spots dancing before his eyes.

  The convoy kept plodding at its slow speed. No one had noticed anything.

  Daniel knew he needed to break into the cabin. At this speed, the trip to Calico would take at least six hours. He needed to get Oscar out of the exposure and kick-start his healing routines, but he didn't know if he had the energy. Yet he had to, for Eilin, for Oscar.

  He stared out over the parched plain while gathering strength.

  The glow of Jupiter gilded the rugged landscape. Text flashed across the surface. DANIEL AND OSCAR I LOVE YOU.

  “So--we've finished here?” Eilin clenched her hands into fists in her lap. Years and years she had been reasonable, negotiated with ISF, even though their only aim was to get rid of Allion and other commercial operators. And now they did . . . this?

  The Thor III was still climbing, but the ascent was in its final phase, and the pink surface of the gas giant had receded well below them.

  Vivie said, “Yes, we can operate the lights from anywhere--”

  “Then let's get ourselves to Io, as fast as this ship will go.” All those on the Thor III's bridge were looking at her.

  Jadie frowned. “With the entire press corps watching?”

  “Especially with the press corps watching. This . . .” Eilin made a furious gesture at the spy-probe image. “Is a gross violation of the Reasonable Force Defence Act. I'll take the shuttle and go down to Calico myself. I'll demand reason for this . . . hostile action. It's war, it's murder. Let them see what Allion can do when we are angry.”

  With the last of his strength, Daniel shoved the door open. His arms hurt, his back hurt. Plowing through that dust had run down his charge and he was operating on pure muscle strength, a part of him that didn't function w
ell in a near-vacuum.

  It had taken him more than an hour to get this damn door open with nothing more than his bare hands. And yes, his feet.

  He lifted Oscar and, stumbled through the door, and then was surprised that it still shut. Of course it wasn't pressurized.

  The truck was one of those live-in things with sleeping cabins and an office alongside a narrow corridor that lead to the control room.

  This corridor was lit by only one small emergency light. Side doors were open, the cabins full to bursting with plastic-wrapped parcels. He squinted at the labels, but his eyes wouldn't focus. He needed a recharge, and quick. Into the control cabin.

  A driver bot was at the controls, a simple non-sentient battered-up specimen that had seen many hours of service. Thank heavens, the med-station was located against the back wall.

  He put Oscar on the bench, extracted the life support leads from within his lower stomach cavity and plugged them into the med support. Flashing lights showed life-saving processes in operation.

  Now for himself. He dragged the power cords out of the wall-mounted charging unit. His hands trembled so much that he had trouble undoing the zips on his suit. Found the plug on his stomach, rammed the connectors in . . .

  . . . Daniel must have passed out, because the next thing he knew he was on the floor, staring up at the light in the cabin's ceiling. The floor had stopped moving. That realization brought him wide awake. He jumped up, noticed that Oscar was stirring on the bed.

  “Shh--rest.” Daniel patted his brother on the hand. The hand was hot, feverish. Not good.

  What was going on? Why had they stopped?

  The driver bot was sitting motionless; the viewscreens were off, as they would be with a mechanical driver.

  Activate outside view

  [authorization denied]

  Well, damn it.

  Engage decision making

  [possible scenarios: 1. vehicle arrived at destination, 2. mechanical problem]

  But the routine had no further suggestions, and he felt stupid for engaging it in the first place. He didn't need a machine to tell him the obvious, and he should stop asking for answers, expecting the module to have them. It was as if the thing was jeering at him, You wanted to be human? You sort it out.