Cyborg Assault

Marten noticed the ceiling then. A golden triangle was inlaid there, with a silver, lidless eye peering out from the center.

“Bring the barbarian here,” a woman said.

Marten refocused as one of the myrmidons pushed him toward a tiny woman. She stood beside a seated man in the center of the command room.

The tiny woman, surely no more than four feet tall, wore a stylish red jacket and slacks. She had hairless eyebrows, and she seemed older than the others. She also had smooth, fine-boned features—bio-sculpted features, Marten suspected. She was beautiful in an elfin way, exotic. She wore a tight red cap that hid any hair and she wore a shield-like emblem where her jacket’s front pocket should have been.

“You have the honor of standing in the presence of Strategist Tan,” Octagon said. “If at any time she addresses you, you will respond in a mild tone and use the honorific of ‘Your Visionary’ or ‘Exalted One’.”

“Exalted One?” Marten asked, bemused.

Octagon stiffened, and his slender hand moved toward the pain meter.

“Hold,” said Tan. She had a firm voice, full of assurance, adding to her strange beauty. “You applied a shock collar to him.”

“Yes, Exalted One,” Octagon said.

“The reason?” she asked.

“Unbridled emotionalism.”

“I would know your proof?”

“The barbarian’s drawing a weapon against his rescuers,” Octagon said. “His attempt to take a mechanic hostage in our ship, thinking that would thwart us. His swift changes from rage, to pseudo-rationality and to actual aggression. His—”

“Perhaps it is true that emotionalism stirred those actions,” Tan said. “However, they could have formulated from other sources.”

Octagon’s head twitched minutely. “Exalted One, you are far too highly ranked for anyone present to assault your logic. Still, I feel compelled to point out that my advanced studies were and continue to be in Barbarian Psychology. While I would laugh at anyone who suggested that intuitive… hm… feelings could help clarify a situation, nevertheless—”

“You intuited his emotionalism?” Tan asked, with a faint hint of amusement.

Octagon’s mouth opened. He shut it with a click of his teeth.

“How interesting,” she murmured.

“You are sixty-ninth and I am eleventh,” Octagon said hurriedly. He was silent for a moment. “My word choices have failed me.”

“It is of little matter,” Tan said. “We shall proceed to my second query. And for the sake of argument, I will grant you his emotionalism. Even given that, why collar him?”

“Barbarians react within strict parameters to pain. I apply the stimuli and can easily interpret the reasoning behind his responses. That helps me gauge the truth.”

“His reasoning?” asked Tan.

“Emotions stem from pseudo-reasoning.”

“Hm,” said Tan. “You are the ship’s arbiter. I have no desire to step onto your prerogatives. However, I feel that events have crossed into abnormality. The cyborg in the ship’s holding cell is the obvious proof. These fugitives arrived in the Rousseau’s pod, a badly damaged pod, possibly indicating a battle. Yes… I am intruding into your area of expertise. But not lightly, Arbiter Octagon. I wish to assure you of that.”

“I lack the philosophic height to judge your actions, Exalted One. But I must—”

“Well said. For the duration then, I insist that you keep your hand off the pain meter. I have a different methodology than yours, and will now apply it to the barbarian.”

“If I could just—” Octagon tried to say.

“Please,” said Tan, flicking one of her tiny hands at him, “desist.”

Octagon bowed his head.

“In fact,” said Tan. “Move back and make your myrmidons heel.”

Octagon hesitated. It was barely perceptible. Then he snapped his fingers. The myrmidons left Marten, following the Arbiter. Octagon went to a raised monitor several feet behind the command chair. Octagon pressed several toggles there and began to scan the personnel in the modules. A few sat straighter or seemed more absorbed in their vidscreens.

“Did you understand our dialogue?” Tan asked Marten.

“Yes.”

“You realize that we find your presence in the dreadnaught’s pod… highly unusual?”

“I’m from Mars,” Marten said. “We just arrived in your system—”

Tan held up her hand.

Marten ignored it as he kept on talking, “When the Rousseau hailed us—” Marten groaned, doubling over as the shock collar buzzed. Pain flooded through his body. He heard Tan speak sternly. The pain ceased and Marten heard Tan scold Octagon.

“In fact,” Tan added, “remove the collar.”

Exalted One—” Octagon tried to say.

“Silence,” she said. “Now remove the collar as ordered.”

There was a click from the collar. Marten tore it off, and he nearly hurled it at Octagon. He became aware of the others watching him. Most seemed fascinated, as if witnessing a strange beast. The myrmidons seemed ready to fly at him. Controlling his urge, Marten managed a harsh grin. He held out the collar for someone to take.

“There,” Tan said. “My methodology is already proved correct.”

“Please, Exalted One—”

“Arbiter,” she said, “I detect strain in your voice. I begin to wonder if extended duty has worn down your… razor’s edge of rationality. Now take the collar and observe.”

Octagon whispered to a myrmidon. The gene-warped Jovian hurried to Marten, snatching the collar, clicking it to his belt and hurrying back to Octagon.

“We shall begin anew,” Tan told Marten.

“Thank you,” he said, rubbing his throat.

She gave an airy wave. “Your presence in the pod is strange, and you were in the company of a cyborg. That implies you belong to Social Unity.”

Marten waited, deciding to follow their ways.

“Ah, you show decorum,” Tan said. “I find that interesting. Do you belong to Social Unity?”

“No.”

“Are you from Neptune?”

“I am not.”

“I notice a barcode tattoo on your forearm. That indicates a Highborn soldier.”

“They inducted me on Earth, yes.”

“So you are Earthborn and originally belonged to Social Unity.”

“I was born in the Sun-Works Factory. My parents were Unionists.”

“Meaning what?” asked Tan.

“Political Harmony Corps hunted us,” Marten said, “butchering many and torturing the rest. My parents escaped into the vast Sun-Works Factory. The majority of the habitat is automated, which means that hundreds of kilometers are devoid of humans.”

“I’m familiar with the Mercury Factory. There is no need to elaborate.”

Marten nodded. “I grew up longing to reach the Jupiter Confederation.”

Tan made a soft sound, with a twitching smile.

Marten liked her smile, and he found her smallness stimulating. In fact, her beauty stirred him. “Maybe you think I’m making that up to try to please you,” he said. “Back then, Social Unity controlled all four Inner Planets. The Jupiter Confederation was the first free system.”

“Free?” Tan asked.

“Free of Social Unity.”