Yngve, AR - The Argus Project

by The Argus Project (lit)

  "Are all your guests interrogated before dinner?"

  "Not all my guests arrive with the entire Terran Army on their tail. Antexi! " she added in the Martian-Finnish slang.

  Venix was too exhausted to say more, and just gave her a nod.

  ***

  WE INTERRUPT THIS PROGRAM FOR A MESSAGE FROM THE KANSLER:

  Sons and daughters of Mother Earth, it is with great pride I can announce that the terrorist threat of the Outer Planets is nearing its defeat.

  During the past few months, our mighty fleet and its champion Argus-A have dealt the enemy bases several crippling blows. I can at last say to you, with complete confidence: a total victory and permanent peace is in sight.

  In the past I have ceaselessly tried to negotiate a peaceful solution to this conflict, but the party of the Jovian forces has repeatedly rejected all our peace proposals. So it was with a heavy heart that I declared all further possibilities of negotiated ceasefire as closed.

  Only the force and superiority of the Terran Fleet can bring us the unconditional surrender of the Jovian enemy, and thus guarantee the safety of our children, and our future in space.

  My fellow humans... this is our moment of truth. Never before has the human race spread so wide, and is about to spread even further, beyond the boundaries of the Solar System.

  What is at stake in this war is more than the supply route of deuterium to the Inner Planets, much more than the safety of Mother Earth from terrorist attacks. At stake is the very future of our species.

  We cannot let it fall into the hands of a race of deformed genetic throwbacks. The true core of our species must prevail.

  Now is the time for all of us to support our men and women out there, who fight and sweat and bleed for us. Send them encouraging mail, tell them that you are behind them every step of the way. Send PP donations to those from your hometown who enlisted to join the good fight.

  With your full support they shall win, and return home. And with luck, I shall return to Earth and bring Argus-A with me, to share your thanks.

  Soon we fly once more into battle, and in the starry depths of outer space she floats there: Mother Earth, most precious of all worlds, reminding us of home.

  Thank you and bless you all, and bless Mother Earth.

  36: A Quiet Evening With the Family

  "Mmmmmm..."

  Venix arched her neck backward into the small pool, and let the hot bath suffuse her hair.

  The bathwater, pumped up from subterranean Martian water deposits and heated by deuterium reactors, was mixed with mild machine detergents and antistatic solvents to prevent short-circuiting.

  Still, no water seeped into her electric innards. She swallowed some hot water, and spouted it up and over her - flushing out the last residue of Martian sand from her chest cavity.

  Above the pool, the ceiling was rigged with sunlamps set to maximum output. Her cleaned skin membrane could now soak up the ultraviolet radiation, and her batteries filled up at a rapid pace.

  She checked the status of her left leg, which rested against the poolside:

  ENDOBOTIC REPAIR IN PROGRESS...

  LEFT LEG STATUS: 50% REPAIRED...

  NO EXTERNAL ASSISTANCE NEEDED...

  FOREIGN OBJECTS EMITTED THROUGH CHEST CAVITY...

  PLEASE FLUSH CHEST CAVITY THROUGH ORAL PORT...

  She felt something inside her, and coughed it up: a small rust-flake, from the steel beam that had cut into her knee when she boarded that truck. Venix doubted no more: flesh or no flesh, she was just as much a living being as before Boulder had transformed her.

  FOREIGN OBJECTS IN BODY: 0%

  CAUTION: ENDOBOTIC REPAIR USING UP RESERVES...

  SUGGEST REFILL THROUGH ORAL PORT...

  The internal display showed the small deposits of spare building material in her breasts, little pockets of metal and plastic in grain form. It hadn't occurred to Venix she needed to eat that stuff occasionally.

  Someone knocked on the door to the small pool hall, and three heads peeked in from behind the doorway - one teenage boy, a little girl, and a small boy. Stocky, Martian children with thin, translucent fur on their skin.

  They regarded the female figure in the steaming pool with intense curiosity. Venix giggled: in her infrared vision, the teenager's physical interest showed right through his clothes.

  "D... dinner is served," the young man told her, suddenly realizing that she was laughing at him. "You do eat, do you?"

  "Wait," Venix said as she reached for a large towel. "I remember something Boulder told me about eating..."

  She stood up, water running off her synthetic skin, and she shook her hair dry - splattering the children's faces with hot water. They shrieked and scattered away.

  "Get me some carbon, lead, steel and magnesium in powder form, in a bowl - and a spoon!" she called out after them. She laughed out loud. The sight of those kids brought back so many memories of growing up... and reawakened her persistent hope of having her own. One day, she thought, one day...

  It struck her that the soldiers she had killed might have children back on Earth. She was surprised that she didn't feel crushed with guilt, only vaguely uneasy. Maybe her physical superiority was changing her into a cruel, selfish person... or maybe it was the war, bringing out the killer in everyone.

  This is not the time, she thought. If I live through this, then I'll have all the time I need for guilt. At least Gus won't have to feel I kept my hands clean while he got his dirty...

  ***

  A half-hour later...

  "How does your powder taste?" Arjja asked Venix.

  The female cyborg moved her soft carbon-fiber tongue around in her mouth, and tried to savor the mix of coal powder, metal dust and styrofoam pellets.

  "Chicken," she said, and laughed with the others at the table.

  She picked a leg of chicken from the mini-oven in the center of the table, and tried a bite. After chewing the morsel for a few seconds, she spat it out while pretending to wipe her mouth with a napkin.

  "Very nice," she said, "but I can't digest it. Got no digestive system, at least not for food."

  She cast a glance toward the teenager, and couldn't help but giggle again. If only he knew what I can see, she thought and felt gleefully wicked, he'd die of shame.

  "Juan!" Arjja gave her young son a push. "Stop staring at our guest, you're embarrassing her!"

  "Sorry," he mumbled, looking down at his plate, cheeks flushing red.

  Venix willed her skin temperature to sink a few degrees, reached for his hand and gave it a quick - but cold - squeeze. "It's okay. I think you'll be quite popular with the Martian women."

  Juan flashed a quick bright grin, and straightened up.

  "Do you play board games, Venix?" the councilwoman asked after dinner. "Let me show you this game I got from Boulder Pi, that one time that I met him."

  She put on the dinner table an interplanetary version of the old Game of Risk , the electronic board built and designed by Boulder himself, laminated in plastic, and worn by time. Her family gathered around the board to play.

  "I play Mars," said Arjja.

  "I choose Venus," said Venix.

  "I play Earth," said little Makenna. "I get to wear the cap!" he added with childish triumph, as his father put a gray cap marked "K" on the boy's head.

  "I play Jupiter and satellites," said Arjja's husband Salvado. "And Pentia is my advisor," he said, siding with his little daughter.

  "Who controls the Asteroids?" asked Venix.

  "Whoever invades the sector first, or takes it from the previous conqueror."

  "I'm always left with Saturn, that's no fun," complained Juan.

  "You can play Ura ..."

  Salvado's heavy hand gave Makenna a smack on the scalp. "Not in front of the guest."

  The game began. The board's printed circuits showed the "pieces" moving across the flat model of the Solar System and its planetary orbits.

  The rules were simple: the bigger th
e territory you captured, the more troops you could produce and ship across to take over the opponents' planets. The Inner Planets started out with more troops. The further you had to move the troops from your base, the more your expenses grew on a geometrical scale.

  In the midst of the ongoing game, Venix stood up and gazed at the board.

  "I see it now. Why the Kansler is keeping this war going, and why Boulder gave you his game to keep. A child could see why."

  " I am the Kansler!" shouted little Makenna, scowling with his round face as he put his tiny fist on the game-board. "When Jupiter and the Asteroid Belt are mine, nobody gets out of the system unless I say so! All deuterium to the Inner Planets has to go past me!"

  "Oh yeah?" sneered his older sister. "Then Mom's Mars joins forces with Dad's colonies at Jupiter. We can trap your fleet in the Asteroids and you are cut off! Ha! "

  Their mother grinned and shook her head, looked to Venix and said: "Salvado and I were a young couple then, when Boulder gave me that game. We spent many evenings playing. It taught me to think long-term. I copied the game to others, and played it with them over the networks... I must've played hundreds of times. Almost all children born on Mars are now taught to play Boulder's game. We don't even have to tell the Jovians we're on their side, because thanks to Boulder's game there's a silent consensus that we must be."

  "So what can I do now?" Venix said. "Thanks to me, your homeworld is on the brink of open war with Earth. They'll just send more troops. Or..."

  Arjja interrupted: "And the Jovians can stop the Terran troops from arriving here. Remember the Flying Icebergs? Do you know how many of those pilots survived the radiation-belts and are still waiting to do something for Mars again? Except this time, the icebergs from Saturn's rings can be put on a collision course with Phobos.

  "Now that the main bulk of the Terran Fleet is occupied at Jupiter, it's the ideal time for us to make our declaration of independence. All we need is to beat the info-blackout the Fleet imposed on us, and we can start putting serious pressure on the Inner Planets. Your heroic fight with the MSF was just the inspiration our people needed. If we can get the footage of your fight distributed out of here, spread it to the Inner Planets..."

  "I have relatives on Venus, Arjja. I fear for their safety. And - "

  She could barely bring herself to finish the thought: Gus would almost certainly be called for to attack Mars. "The most important thing I can do is to help Argus-A break free of the Kansler's remote-control. He's a good man, he'll refuse to attack if I can speak to him and he's not under control. Once free, he'll be almost unstoppable."

  Arjja studied the news on the wall display, then turned to Venix.

  "The odds are not good, but if it can be done... okay. I'll gather the council and we'll tell you what little we found out on our own, after Boulder left. Most of them will be home from work now."

  On Venix' homeworld, "councils" did not exist, only informal networks.

  "What is it your council does?"

  "Nothing really... a relic from old times. But we do have connections with people who can help you. Maybe we're keeping the council just to keep our oldest, honorary member happy. Wait till you see him, you'll know what I mean."

  " Moy! Can I come with you?" Juan asked Arjja. He tried to make a cocky pose. Venix saw - and heard - how nervously his heart was beating inside his ribcage.

  "Let him come along, Arjja," she suggested. "You wanted me to inspire your people, didn't you?" she said, and smiled a little.

  She didn't need infrared vision to see the anxiety in Arjja's thick-skinned face. Though she knew she shouldn't push her luck, Venix couldn't resist the temptation to provoke her flesh-and-blood hosts, to try and tease out the prejudice she feared they were hiding.

  37: Boulder's Game

  At the time of Venix' asylum on Mars, the populace had abolished elections - like all other planets. The Citizens' Council had no power to grant laws and collected no taxes. All decisions of major importance were made through instant mass voting.

  But above Martian law was the unspoken colonial law of all planets except Earth: Pay whatever tribute the motherworld asks for: resources, energy, genetic harvest, migrant labor... and remember who holds the biggest gun.

  Mars , with its vast resources and large colonial population, produced half the metals that built the Terran war machine. Jupiter provided the fuel that propelled the machine. Venus exported know-how and technology to the rest of the planets, ensuring the system's overall efficiency.

  Very few people on any planet thought of it - but the colonies owed a substantial amount of their wealth to the same Terran Fleet that could destroy them...

  ***

  Arjja, Venix and Juan took a tunnel car to another house, where the other ten Martian council members plus a dozen scientists were waiting.

  The council was a rather informal association. What little human administration that once existed in the previous century had withered away, and the council had no real executive powers, no budget - and Martians paid no local taxes, only the forced Inner Planets Security Tax which financed the MSF.

  The council members looked ordinary by colonial standards; they greeted her in the most casual way. With her heat-vision, Venix could see suspicion and fear flare up in their minds.

  While she was sitting, the scientists moved scanners over her body.

  At least one-third of the members seemed more interested in debating the tax issue. The youngest councilman, a tanned, bulky fellow with ruddy skin fur, called for an immediate planet-wide boycott of all forced taxes.

  Older colleagues called his idea foolish, since Earth could easily impose a much more serious trade blockade on Mars. She scanned their heat-emissions to see how much thought lay behind all the words...

  One middle-aged, feeble-faced member had an annoying speech impediment, and kept warbling every three-syllable word. The thermal patterns of his brain showed only modest activity.

  Another middle-aged man, whose brain seemed hyperactive to the point of breakdown, kept repeating the phrase "the will of the people" whenever he made demands for himself and his clan. He only paused to gulp down another bottle of MocaCoca, a highly addictive alkaloid soft-drink that was outlawed on Venus and the Outer Planets.

  In a minute, the bickering group had forgotten about the new guest, who sat still in a corner. She was getting fed up real fast.

  Juan ambled in the periphery of the conference-room, and yawned repeatedly.

  Venix looked carefully to the oldest, quiet council member: a white-clad man whose spinal column had grown bent. His nose was much thinner than on the other council members, and his sagging skin had no fur at all.

  The tag on his shirt read "DAVE ROMAN," and on his sleeve was an antique, yellowed NASA badge. She moved her chair closer to the man, sensing something in the heat-patterns from his balding head.

  Dave Roman looked at her as if through a mist. The hand that held his walking-stick began to shake. He squinted and peered at her chest, then at her face.

  She raised an amused eyebrow and all but said with her eyes: See anything you like?

  "Oh," he chuckled, "Pardon my staring, ma'am... your white suit, and you look like a girl from Earth, just brought back so many memories." His gruff voice was surprisingly loud for such a thin man. "You don't happen to know about that robot we were supposed to meet?"

  "I'm Venusian. And a cyborg, not a robot. That's me." She offered to shake hands. Dave Roman seemed to flinch. "I'm Venix , a friend of Argus-A."

  "Huh?" grunted the old man, peering at her in utter confusion. Arjja patted Dave on the shoulder and talked soothingly. He leaned back into his seat and dozed off with his mouth open.

  "Dave is almost 160 years old," Arjja whispered to Venix. "He did much good for our people... long ago. Most of his brain-tissue was regenerated after a stroke, so he's out of it most of the time. Just let him listen to us, his hearing is pretty good after he got the new eardrum."

  "He'
s a Terran."

  Arjja's face and voice hardened: "In the previous century, Dave was a citizen of a federation called 'The United States of North America'. The founders of his federation came from Europe, but they rebelled against their countries of origin all the same. Are you incapable of independent thought, just because you were born on Venus... or do you slavishly follow Boulder Pi's every directive? Are you as arrogant as you seem?"

  Venix strained to show a concerned face and posture, so her answer wouldn't come off as stiff and insincere. Time and time again, she was misinterpreted as aloof and over-controlled - because she never coughed, breathed, grunted, yawned, farted, or made spontaneous movements.

  "I'm sorry. I used to think I was always right, only because I react so fast. Please forgive me."

  Arjja grunted.

  ***

  Venix spent the next half-hour telling the council her story. About her meeting with Argus, how they had exchanged thoughts during the fusion of their nervous systems... but she avoided any intimate details of their love life.

  She wasn't sure flesh-and-blood people could understand how well she and Argus knew each other from that one night in Copenhagen.

  She skipped the erotic parts and went on to depict how the Kansler could "shut down" and possibly command the movements of Argus.

  And she finished with an account of her escape to Mars.

  When Venix went quiet, Dave Roman stirred from his apparent slumber, coughed, and pointed his stick at her. She turned to him again. He squinted, took a breath, and smiled. The old geezer had heard every word she said!

  "Mighty fine lady, you are, I envy the husband... I was about to say, surely the Kansler must sleep sometimes? Unless his Number Two man Islington takes over the remote-control then. Argus can make a break for it while the Kansler sleeps, he's darn quick, eh?"

  The others, except Venix, looked at each other and her in embarrassment.

  Arjja mumbled aside to Venix: "We love him, he's one of our founding fathers, but... he's far gone."