THE ARGUS PROJECT
Humanity's best and brightest minds had spent the entire 21st century (and the better part of the 22nd) trying to create practical faster-than-light communication.
They failed: the universe persisted in allowing only meaningless signals to travel faster than 300,000 KMPS in a vacuum.
Thus, the Kansler received his personal encrypted report from the MSF commander - telling him of the retreat - after the fact. He did not shout at or threaten the ashen-faced commander.
The Kansler had no reason to criticize the decision to retreat: the Martians lacked the armaments to attack Phobos, and it was the wrong time to attempt an all-out war with them.
Yet, the fact remained: one cyborg alone had caused Mother Earth a significant defeat, and the bad news would leak to the home opinion eventually.
Zodong-Petain explained that damage control was of the essence: the Martians' compromising combat footage had to be neutralized, but this was out of his league and he needed expert help.
The Kansler heard the report quietly, with outward calm. When the transmission ended, he sent orders to the MSF commander to await the arrival of Islington, who would then act as the Kansler's stand-in, and whose task it was to command Zodong-Petain plus the reinforcements being shipped over from Earth in the coming weeks.
And the Kansler felt fairly confident that Islington would stay loyal - the man had a wife and family back on Earth. A second set of orders, sent to the Fleet's Marketing department, requested a division of experts to tackle the Martian rebellion against Terran supremacy.
Having completed the transmission of orders, the Kansler ordered the immediate arrest of Boulder Pi.
***
An hour later, the flag ship's chief surgeon called the Kansler into the operating room. Boulder lay strapped to a table in a protective transparent tent; several thin, remote-controlled surgical probes were penetrating his skin.
The chief surgeon showed the Kansler a small bloodied object, about the shape and size of a pen.
"This," he explained, "is a proto-organic blocker, designed to help a person pass any known lie-detector or truth-serum tests. The bone growth around the implant indicates he got it five, seven years ago - long before Intelligence cleared him for employment in the Fleet's lunar lab. Back then, of course, Intelligence had little knowledge of these gadgets and how to detect them. Perhaps the Jovians planted other agents using the same technique. With your permission, Kansler, I'd like to examine other suspects..."
"Go ahead," the Kansler said. "All short people are suspects." He pressed his gray uniform cap, the one he always wore, down over his eyes. His fists opened and closed restlessly as he walked around the transparent tent, looking at the midget who lay there.
Boulder was under sedation, and felt very little actual pain. The truth-drugs were beginning to work, and a sheepish smile spread across his small-jawed, bearded face. His large eyes tried to follow the stalking, large figure that circled the table, but he grew tired and just rolled up his eyes.
The Kansler made a slight movement with his hand, indicating that the surgeon should leave. When only three Intelligence officers were left in the operating room with the prisoner, the Kansler's face changed; it turned pale, with red flecks appearing on his potato-nose.
He suddenly ripped apart the protective tent with his hands, and pulled the surgical probes out of Boulder's skin.
The little man winced, more out of surprise than pain. Then he saw the Kansler's eyes, with its shrunken pupils, staring down at him with greater hatred than ever before, and he noticed that the Kansler's restless hands were trembling.
Boulder thought: I'm dead. He won't let me leave this room alive. Still, Boulder felt calmer than usual, and he couldn't quite tell whether it was the sedation that did it...
"Screw the drugs," the Kansler croaked, "screw the investigations, screw Intelligence, screw it all. I just knew, from the day I hired you to work for the Fleet, that you were an enemy agent. Our people in the Jovian mining-districts reported recently of a man resembling you, who infiltrated Kun'Lun while Argus-A was on a visit there. I don't know his real name... he did manage to escape. I think he was simply a relative. You have a brother on Ganymede... don't you?"
"Yes."
"Do you know why I let you work for the Fleet, though I knew what you are?"
"It was a fair deal. You provided the resources, I provided the know-how."
"Venix. Your creation. When I saw her do those amazing dance stunts, I thought: Now it can be done. A man can be transformed into a faster, stronger shape that thinks and reacts with superhuman speed and never dies. The next step in human evolution, that'll render all other forms obsolete."
"No, that wasn't it. My process would create a complement to the existing forms, an intermediary stage to enable interstellar travel."
"You lack vision. You don't see the big picture. You don't understand the necessity of making sacrifices for the greater good."
"Such as capturing Venix to blackmail your perfect soldier? It's too late. I heard on the news about the info-blackout on Mars. Just like that night in Copenhagen. A telling silence, don't you think?"
"You're losing blood, Boulder. Talk faster."
"Did your agents trace all the places I went, back when I left Ganymede to find work on the Inner Planets? Did they tell you about when I waited in transit orbit around Mars, and talked to some natives? They wouldn't believe all I told them, not at first. That I had patients waiting on Earth, waiting to be transformed, who would one day help them gain independence for the Outer Planets. And I told them that once the Kansler had gained control of my homeworld, Mars was the next target on his list. And..."
"Who told you that?"
"Nobody. I was the number one Risk champion in my class."
"It was you who helped her escape, all the time! Your scheme!"
The Kansler stabbed in front of the midget's face with his index finger - convulsively, as if his arm was suffering from Parkinson's. "You spread that rumor of a reward for her escape, the escape you had predicted and abetted! Who paid you? Who's... coordinator? Is... your... brother?"
Now the Kansler's face went a deep red, his eyes bloodshot; he seemed about to burst. Boulder laughed, and forgot about his own dying body. He grinned up at the purple-faced, spluttering figure.
"You don't know my brother! I did it all myself. Only way it could ever work. I knew I'd get you in the end... Terran. Want to know why? I'm so short, always Terran crotches at eye level... from first I met you, I notice... small and bent... and I've got real ones where you've got a pair of raisins."
Boulder began to cough as he laughed - but stopped, when the Kansler strangled him with both hands. The men from Intelligence stood and watched. Half a minute passed. Their leader finally let go of the dead Boulder Pi, and turned to face them. His hands were stained with blood and saliva.
Grunting like an ape crossing the evolutionary threshold from animal to man, the Kansler ordered the men to return to their stations. His personal guard of robots came in to clean up the mess and take away Boulder's remains.
"Better put some ice on that," the red-eyed commander told the robots, pointing at the dead engineer. "We could scan the brain and find out more."
The most important thing now, he thought, was to postpone as long as possible the moment when Argus found out about Venix' escape. And the best way to distract Argus was to send him on his next, last mission, as planned.
He would make a great hero - the first but not the last...
34: A Small Killing
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THE ARGUS PROJECT INTERNET EDITION (c)A.R.Yngve 1999, 2000, 2004. All rights reserved. May not be copied without permission.
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