THE ARGUS PROJECT
Islington, visibly upset, shook Boulder Pi awake even as the little man was emerging from his stasis-bed.
It struck Islington as weird, that such a bright scientist as Boulder Pi refused to get the latest neural implants, so that he could sleep and stay conscious simultaneously - such time-savers were getting common, even Islington used one.
He told himself: Goes to prove that damned Jovian is a security risk and must be watched closely.
"Wait," Boulder slurred, and in his groggy state he reverted back to Jovian lingo. "Just got. Hate space-travel... tell Kansler can't work, give few hours rest..."
Against his faint protests, the Fleet personnel helped Boulder Pi into his leg extensions, and gave him some stimulants to counter the sleep-drugs that had kept him in a stable coma during the express journey. Islington guided - and pestered - Boulder toward his assigned quarters in the vast flagship E.S.S. Jefferson.
The artificial gravity was close to that of the Moon, except that the centrifuges caused mild nausea among newcomers. The Kansler's holo-presence haunted them with repeated e-requests for a plan to catch their fugitive.
Halfway to his quarters, Boulder Pi regained enough composure to make a spoken reply to the Kansler, who was still seated in the command center in another section of the ship. He addressed the hologram.
"Kansler... we cannot control Ven... her like we can with Argus. She was a prototype for civilian use. And I didn't design the Direct Control System. My specialty is cybernetics and biology. The prototype for Direct Control in her was, to my knowledge, never finished and never tested. Have you tried it on her when she ran away on Earth?"
The Kansler's holo-presence stood quiet, glaring at Boulder with cold, naked hatred. He sent back a text reply by e-mote command, being too preoccupied or upset to speak to Boulder.
YOU LACK THE SECURITY CLEARANCE TO ASK SUCH QUESTIONS, the text read in a speech-balloon across the hologram. Boulder smiled, almost imperceptibly, at the hologram; had he been fully awake, he wouldn't have been so bold. OUR TOP PRIORITY IS TO KEEP ARGUS UNDER CONTROL. "KOLYA" DID NOT SEEM SO IMPORTANT BACK THEN.
"Kansler, you yourself said several times, that she was of no military importance to the Fleet." A trace of malicious glee flashed in Boulder's otherwise so timid face. "Why the hurry to catch her? It's not as if she can stop Argus or tell the enemy how to destroy him. He's just the pilot. His ship is more important to the war effort, and she knows nothing at all about it."
YOU ARE AN IDIOT OUTSIDE YOUR FIELD, came the Kansler's quick text-reply. ARGUS AND "KOLYA" MAY HAVE CONNECTED DIRECTLY IN COPENHAGEN. CLASSIFIED FILES MAY HAVE BEEN TRANSFERRED TO HER MEMORY.
"And you figured this out just now?" the still grumpy, tired, post-stasis-nauseous Boulder dared to ask. "I don't think there is a significant risk. In any case, she wouldn't know what to do with the information, even if she had it. She's just a dancer."
The Kansler's real, direct voice replied in Boulder's and Islington's ear-mikes, and they winced.
"Had she been a scientist, I wouldn't have worried! You little Jovian creep, you're one word from being sent down to Earth! I'm warning you just once: Don't even try to play games.
"Now do exactly as I say... Islington, you will take the cruiser that Boulder came in on, and go to Mars at top speed to supervise the capture of our target. You are to proceed with Chancellor's representative authority and extreme prejudice. If the MSF commander gives you trouble, arrest him. I have redirected one division of fresh troops from Earth by Fleet orbiter, they will join you at the Phobos station in two weeks. These orders are to be executed now."
"Yes, Kansler. At once," Islington replied, nodding urgently.
Boulder Pi leaned against a wall, his breathing quick with exhaustion, and looked away from the Kansler hologram. The deputy seemed to receive his new marching orders with mixed emotions; he must have understood that he was sent from one war to another that was just beginning. Islington had never before commanded fighting troops outside Terra.
Boulder thought of Venix and an archaic phrase surfaced in his mind, from long ago. "'The face that launched a thousand ships,'" he muttered to himself.
Even the Kansler could not read Islington's face and infrared surveillance scans well enough to learn if the deputy had truly understood.
Go, go! Catch the stick, Fido! Boulder thought as he watched Islington hurry off to board the next shuttle to the waiting cruiser. You like them like dogs, don't you, Kansler. We had dogs too, in the early years. Good for sniffing out water and finding people after cave-ins. But then we had to kill them off... they grow too big out here, too wild. They bite the hand that feeds them.
I was a kid when we hunted down the last dogs on Ganymede. It was my idea to flood and freeze entire sections to get them. I was the top dog-killer of my class before I was 10.
How my big brother envied me the prize they gave me. My dear brother. How he must hate me now. It doesn't matter. I must play one last big dirty trick and then I can go home.
***
Argus received a wall-screen message in his personal quarters: a Class Red transmission was waiting to be opened. "For Your Eyes Only" - from Venix, back on Earth.
He asked to open it in the cockpit of his ship, and rushed to the hangar as fast as he could, zipping past crewmen like a greased shadow.
And there he saw Venix, in a 3-D transmission. She sat on a couch inside an old-fashioned British mansion, with a giant fireplace crackling in the background. Venix sat tense, with her white arms in her lap, staring straight into the camera.
"Gus..." she said, hesitating. "The Kansler allowed me to record this one-way message in this manner, security you know. I hope it isn't censored. I think of you constantly. I want you not to worry about me. I miss you and I want you to win this stupid war so you can come home and we'll be together again. I love you. Please come back in one piece."
She put her hand to her forehead and smiled to the camera: "The memories of us are safe in here and I never forget them. I'll try to get more messages through as soon as I can. Bye. Love you." The recording ended. It didn't seem to have been cut or doctored.
"Navbutler... tell me you stored that message."
"Sorry, Argus, Class Red Mail cannot be stored after opening. The file erased itself."
"Okay... I got it memorized anyway. Isn't she lovely?"
"Pardon?"
"The girl in the message?"
"What message?"
"The one that was erased."
"I recall that a recent Class Red Mail was received. Its contents were erased from my memory."
"And if I repeated it to you from my memory?"
"Navbutler recommends: proceed with caution."
"Buddy, let me tell you what Venix said, word for word..."
Just after Argus had repeated the message perfectly, Navbutler interrupted him.
"Warning: Personal appearance in Class Red Mail from sender 'Venix' does not match my profile."
"You're telling me I can't recognize my girl? Get outta here!"
Navbutler's reply came quick and relentless: "Pardon? Your previous descriptions of Venix are stored in my memory. I am programmed to create a biometric profile of every person I interact with, so that I recognize and identify them properly. The erased message does not match my profile of Venix. Sorry, Argus. The message you received was either altered, censored, forged, or it was not the same Venix you think you heard."
Argus raised his voice, angry and frightened: "What are you talking about? You're wrong!"
But he could not fool himself for long. So badly had he wanted the message to be true, he'd been duped. Obviously it was a fake. Venix didn't talk like that, and the figure in the 3-D recording sat without the dancer's grace and poise that Venix always had. But her face, her voice... perfectly copied. Deja vu. Is it possible that someone took her place, as I took Haruman Clarke's?
"Nav? Universal search. Locate all available images of Venix performing on Earth, when she was a performing dancer. Compare, and tell me if you find any images of Venix that do not match."
After half an hour, Navbutler delivered an analysis. There were actually quite a few public recordings left of Venix performing; for some reason those had not been classified like the files on Haruman Clarke.
Argus found this strange: the Fleet consistently undervalued Venix' importance. Was it intended, or had someone else made it so?
"All images match," Navbutler declared. "All except your description of the erased message."
Argus dared not think out loud - that the real Venix might be dead - that maybe she had escaped captivity - that she was in danger. But he could not know for sure. This was not enough. She might still be within the Kansler's reach. But if she found the right help -
"Nav, locate Boulder Pi."
"Sorry, your security clearance is not -"
"Okay, we'll do it again: Is he not on Earth..."
"Highest priority routine. I am not allowed to say more about Boulder Pi. Your security clearance is not -"
"Okay, I'll search. Outside Fleetcom. He's bound to crop up somewhere."
There was a near-infinite abundance of public channels, files and records to be accessed from the interplanetary computer networks. Unfortunately, when Argus tried to search specifically for the name "BOULDER PI", a censor program stopped the ship's computer.
Boulder Pi might still be on the Moon, under even tighter restrictions. The Kansler seemed to have thought of everything.
A search for "Venice Cherkessian" gave Argus many records of her dancing, and quite lovely ones, but they provided no clues to her whereabouts.
Out of the blue, Navbutler told him: "The Skysurfing Grand Prix tryouts are playing. Top-ranking event in the Universal PP Index. Kolya Keaton just broke a record, before his board burned up in re-entry. They are trying to rescue him now. Watch replays?"
"Never! I hate skysurfing. Ali beat some of his toughest opponents to a bloody mess, but he never ever killed anyone. Sports used to mean something."
"Sorry."
"Not your fault, Nav. Just don't ask again."
28: The Scarlet Letter
(NEXT CHAPTER)
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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