Chapter 9 - Journey to the tower
The Cyborg
The 9 of us exited the Cyborg structure, and emerged into a hilly terrain similar to the one where we had landed on PDN. The ground was mostly dried and parched, lending further evidence to my theory that this world experienced relatively little rainfall, and the same grass-like organisms thrust through any available spaces in the dirt, each of them capable of independent movement. Unlike the area where we had landed the scout ship, however, this section contained high, wide hills, each of them covered with the same strands, so that it was impossible to determine where the nearest structure was.
"Well, that was easy", Matthew said. He strode over to one of the plant-like beings, and pulled it from the ground. Its relatively long, thick roots were expected, in order for it to support its multi-directional movement.
A watery liquid burst from the entity where Matthew had torn it apart. "Eww", said Ethan. "I don't really want to drink that."
I didn't place any blame on the Human; from what I knew of their constitution, a relatively minor amount of contaminated water could cause them great harm. It seemed a shortcoming to me, especially for a species so dependent on water.
"Let me drink it first", Matt told the Human. "I'm less likely to get sick."
"Oh, are you saying that your immune system's better than mine, huh?"
Matt smiled at him. "Not necessarily. You see, slime cells absorb water. So if I was to drink some water with crap in it, only the water would seep into my body. This means that for a virus or some other garbage to get into me, it needs to be smaller than the water particles, and hitch a ride with them."
"So let me get this straight", Ethan began. "Your slime cells can absorb water, oxygen, heat, and electricity? All at the same time?"
"Well, yes", Boy said.
"Among other things", amended Matthew. "And perhaps absorb isn't the right word for some of them. But you won't understand that just now, so don't worry about it."
Before Ethan could ask, I told him, "The organic body is incredibly complex and multi-functional. Your Human form is no less advanced and congested with multiple functions than the Slugs'."
"And what about you?" asked Ethan. "How advanced are Cyborgs?"
"Fairly advanced", I told him. "Most parts of our bodies have more than one purpose. Of course, it is our CPUs that are by far the most sophisticated."
"Of course", he agreed. "And after I get a drink here, and hopefully don't die, you are going to explain to me what you use for a power source. Right?"
I couldn't decide why he seemed so interested in this, but put it down to general curiosity. "Right", I confirmed.
"Anyway, attention back to me", Matthew announced. "I'm drinking this. Here goes." He lifted up 3 of the grasses that he'd extracted, and squeezed them while holding them above his open mouth. The liquid that was still contained within them poured out, most of it reaching its intended target.
Matt made a face as if the taste was unpleasant, and wiped his mouth. "How did it taste?" asked Ethan.
"You forget, Slugs have no sense of taste", I reminded him. I didn't fault him for forgetting, especially since Matthew's expression mimicked the general Human one of a disliked taste.
"Oh", he replied. "Well, how did it feel, then?"
"Like water", Matthew replied. "Come on everyone, have some. Although, Ethan, don't have too much, just a few drops for now."
The Slugs and the Human, including the 2 Ethan designated with the arbitrary names of 'Terry' and 'Kerry', proceeded to rip multiple strands out of the ground, and consume their liquid.
It was at that point that a loud booming noise was heard coming from the general direction of our left.
"What on Earth was that?" spluttered Ethan, water spilling out of his mouth as he did so. I felt that now was not an appropriate time to comment on why he didn't swallow the liquid before he spoke.
"We're not on Earth", Frank reminded him. "And I don't know."
"Phil?" Boy asked me, the question obvious.
"I likewise do not know the source of the sound", I informed him. "Perhaps it was some function of PDN that we are unaware of."
"Perhaps", Frank said. "We should move to the top of that hill, so we can see our surroundings."
"Sure thing", Matt said. "We need to get the lay of the land."
As we relocated on foot, Carmen asked, "What do you mean, 'get the lay of the land'?"
"He means that we can get an idea of what our surroundings look like", Ethan informed her.
"That's exactly what I said", Frank complained. I didn't correct him that those weren't his exact words, recognising that organics tend to equate 'very similar' with 'exactly'.
"Yeah, well, Matthew's Matthew", Ethan told him by way of explanation. It was a mark of how true that statement was that no one replied; everybody understood what he meant by the phrase.
Once we reached the summit of the small rise of ground, a tall, thin, metallic tower of some purpose could be seen behind it, some distance away.
"I guess that's our target", Boy said. "Although it doesn't really explain that sound."
"We cannot visually confirm our scout ship's location from here", I added. "It seems we may have travelled further in the underground tunnels than expected. That structure seems to be the optimal place for us to travel to."
"Isn't that likely to be full of defending Cyborgs?" asked Ethan. His usual demeanour of enjoying Slug-Cyborg encounters now seemed to be replaced with apprehension. Did he finally realise that he was in danger each time this occurred? Or was he worried for the rest of us? I knew that Humans could sometimes be selfless to the point of foolishness, and so I wouldn't be surprised if Ethan feared more for our safety than his own.
"Perhaps", Matt told him. "But it's also the most likely place that we'll be able to find which direction our ship is in. Plus, it's probably a radio tower, and Phil might be able to plug into it or something. Right?"
"Perhaps", I informed our group. "As I previously explained, however, radio wave communication on PDN is practically pointless. Not only is any signal greatly interfered with by the planet's high amount of radio pollution due to the Archives, but any such messages sent by this medium could disrupt the vital information flow to and from the planet. If this is indeed an antenna receiving signals to upload to the Archives, Cyborgs on the ground may very well be unable to communicate with it, lest they contaminate the data.
"In addition, all Cyborgs around PDN are not connected to the network; if they were, they could be causing a major amount of disruption."
"Well that's good for us, in a way", Boy started, "since Slob and the other Cyborgs aren't connected to the network, and so can't communicate."
"I would speculate so", I replied. "However, they need to be in communication somehow; perhaps when they aren't performing an active service, they stay in constant contact with a hardwired connection point, so Cyborgs that aren't busy are always reachable."
"Whatever the case", Matthew said. "We're going to have to go there. Even if we can't get any information out of it, at the very least one of us could try to climb it, and get a better view."
"Shotgun not climbing it", Ethan quickly said.
"You cannot use a firearm to shoot the concept of not being the one to climb it", Boy told him. I found his lack of knowledge regarding Human phrases particularly interesting, especially given his extensive knowledge of the language and his time around Ethan and Matthew.
"Of course", the Human assured him, amused. This confused me, as neither Boy nor any of the other Slugs would fully learn Human terminology and sayings if they were not informed of their errors and then corrected. However, I judged Ethan to be the greater expert than me on this topic, so I remained silent.
"Okay then", Matthew said. "Let's roll."
We began our trek down the other side of the gentle hill to commence our journey to the tower. The slightly lower gravity then Earth's and Slugenis's made it easier to walk, in
the form of requiring a lesser expense of energy. This indicated either that the planet was relatively small, or contained less dense materials than the other worlds, perhaps both. This made sense to me; a smaller planet with less dense minerals made the optimal location for placing the Cyborg Archives, as it would otherwise be used as a production planet or mined.
"So, Phil", Ethan told me amiably as we walked. "I do believe that you owe me an explanation."
I didn't recall ever making such a commitment which required me to 'owe' him that explanation, but I would give it nonetheless.
"Okay", I began. "So this is how Cyborg power units work, at least for me."
The Slug
Ethan said, 'So, Phill. I do believe that you owe me an explanation.'
Well, this sounded interesting, so I slowed my pace and walked alongside the Cyborg.
'OK', he said. 'So this is how Cyborg power units work, at least for me.'
'Wait, wait, wait', I said.
'You only needed to say "wait" once', Boy informed me.
'Much obliged', I told him. 'Phill, what do you mean, how power units work for you? Don't they work the same for all Cyborgs?' I knew that a lot of Cyborgs didn't have the same hair as Phill, but I'd never thought much of it.
After a pause, Phill actually sighed, which I found quite Human of him. 'This is going to be a lengthy explanation.'
'Meh', Ethan shrugged. 'We've got time.'
Phill smiled at him. 'Yes, we do.'
Ahh, Ethan. I couldn't fathom how he could possibly still want to learn more about the Slugs and Cyborgs. It seemed that no matter how much we flooded him with facts and knowledge, it was never enough to satisfy him. I loved this about him way back on Earth, before all of this started, indeed some time before he even knew me, and I still loved it about him now.
'So', Phill got ready to launch into his "lengthy explanation". 'It is all related to our Cyborg classifications. I will begin with what you know. First, each Cyborg is organised into a category, based on several factors. Second, each Cyborg's vital internal components are placed at random points in their body, to make killing them much more difficult.'
'For example', Boy input, 'a Cyborg's CPU could be anywhere from their head, to their neck, chest, or stomach.'
'I once fought one who had his CPU in his leg', I said.
Ethan asked, 'One of you Slugs once told me that you like to keep your brain in your leg when you're not moving. Umm, was that you, Carmen?'
'No', she replied. 'Rosetta likes to do that, it was probably her.'
'Probably', the Human agreed.
After a short pause, I prompted, 'Carry on, Phill.'
He did. 'The same is true for our local short-term and long-term memory, as well as several other important parts. However, this is partially incorrect. Cyborgs do not have randomly placed components; each of these parts is at a set, defined point, and there are many other Cyborgs who share an identical configuration.'
He paused for a second, waiting for someone to intervene. When no one gave an astonished gasp, although I was beginning to feel one coming on, he continued. 'You will recall that my designation, CY-4384:G means that I am a standard combat ground unit, and I was produced in the "G" batch.'
'Man, don't say "produced" ', I complained. 'It sounds so weird coming from an intelligent, speaking being. Say "born", instead.'
'But he wasn't born', protested Boy. 'He was - '
'Regardless of the word chosen', Phill interrupted, 'I came into being in the "G" batch. Now, in order for every Cyborg to have truly randomised internal parts, this would require a randomised or highly divergent production process, which is highly inefficient. I believe Human history has something to say on this.'
'Yeah, something about making cars all the same cause it was cheaper', Ethan said. 'But that was ages ago; we make plenty of different cars nowadays.'
'That's because your cars seek to serve the population's wants', Phill explained. 'Our Cyborgs don't need to cater to illogical preferences. For example, what difference does the colour make?' That shows how little he knows; the colour is like, the most important aspect of the car. Nobody wants a vomit-coloured vehicle.
Phill went on, 'So, Cyborgs don't have truly randomised locations. Instead, at the beginning of the production process, whatever Cyborg leader is in charge of the facility will decide on the placements of the parts, or they will be chosen randomly. The machinery used to manufacture the Cyborgs' bodies are then altered, and so every Cyborg built as a part of that batch has an identical internal configuration. When the next batch is constructed, the component positions are changed again, and so the next batch of Cyborgs is different to the previous batch.'
Now I was starting to get it. Get the concept, that is. But suddenly, in an obvious attempt to break the flow of our conversation, another "boom" erupted; that is, the noise erupted in our ears. Or, whatever system we each use to hear sound. That is.
'Again!' exclaimed Ethan. 'That doesn't sound like a very good sound.'
'No it doesn't', I agreed, 'but there's nothing we can do about it, since we have no idea what it means. Anyway, I'm way more interested in this right now.' I turned back to Phill. 'So you're saying that every Cyborg that's a part of the "G" batch is identical to you?'
'Their body is identical to mine', he replied, 'assuming that my alterations on Earth never happened. So their CPU, memory, and other fundamental Cyborg pieces are in the same physical positions as mine. However, while all Cyborgs in the same batch may have identical bodies, it is their thoughts and memories that make them unique. Obviously, in my case, I am unique in all regards.'
'This may have major implications for us', Boy said after a pause, having joined our group without us noticing. Now that I looked, everyone had joined our group. I smiled at the knowledge that whenever Ethan brought up a topic, all surrounding organisms gravitated towards him. I hoped that they could imagine what would happen if every Human did that.
'Yes', Frank added to Boy's statement. 'If we could somehow figure out what batch a Cyborg was produced in, we could instantly know the location of their CPU. Phill, is there any way for us to find this out?'
Wait, hold on. If we could instantly figure out where a Cyborg's CPU is, then the tide of every battle would turn in our favour. Cyborgs generally tend to beat Slugs in one-on-one combat, and the hidden location of their computer brains forms a big part of this; if a Slug's slime is damaged enough, their brain can give up on life and they die. Cyborgs don't die until their CPU is destroyed.
However, if we knew this, if every Slug could easily figure it out... we would probably win most battles. I had already begun a hastily-thought out alliance with Earth, which gave us a major advantage in space; this knowledge would potentially give us a major advantage now in combat. Armed with all of this, we could actually potentially defeat the Cyborgs, win the war. Win the war! Except that for us, to win the war would be to lose the war, for exactly the same reason that to make peace with the Cyborgs would equate to us losing.
The Slug race is like a fish which evolved in the water, and has lived its whole live in the water. It doesn't want to get out of the water, it doesn't want the water to change, and it doesn't want the water to go away. Likewise, the Empire needs this war to sustain itself. We cannot have a peace with the Cyborgs, and we cannot be allowed the defeat them either. Whatever happens, the Slugs must stay embroiled in war; it is the only way for them to survive. As much as I hate this mindless slaughter for no good reason - we needed it. We needed it. I would prefer it to my race's destruction.
'Yes', Phill answered Frank's unknowingly destructive question, 'although I am unsure as to how effectively a Slug could - '
'However', I quickly interrupted him. 'That is for another time. Phill, the original question was how you generate and store power, right?'
'Well, yeah', Ethan answered reluctantly. 'But I was cool with that explanation as well...'
'Well I wasn't', I said. 'Phill, what has this got t
o do with your power source?'
The Cyborg eyed me, somewhat suspicious of my behaviour. I knew he'd never get any information from how I looked - I was just too good at controlling myself - but hoped that he wasn't wondering why I had rudely interrupted Ethan.
Whatever he thought, Phill explained, 'This semi-randomised classification system is related to my power unit in two ways. For one, the location of my power storage and generation unit is in a random location, segregated by which batch I was constructed in. For another, my batch indicates which types of power generation techniques I utilise.
'All Cyborgs have a reactor inside them, to generate most of the electricity we need. I believe that it may be related to a nuclear reactor, quite stable though similar to the Humans' invention, although I am unsure as to why the Cyborgs had never thought to weaponise it if this is true.
'In addition, all Cyborgs have several sources of alternative power generation. Each batch of newly-crafted Cyborgs uses a different combination of these alternative power sources. Although it would be more efficient to streamline every being as using the same system of electricity generation, the nature of each Cyborg's assignment changes the nature of their power source requirements, and therefore how they generate this power.'
'Ah, alright then', Ethan said. 'So what kinds of generation do you use?'
'His hair', I said proudly.
The Human gave me a blank stare. 'What Matthew means to say', Phill told him, 'is that one source of this energy are solar panels, on the tops of the Cyborgs head, shoulders, and other parts likely to have access to a sufficiently nearby star. These are not actually panels, but are strands of very thin glass-like, dark, hollow tubes, where every surface, including the inside hollowed-out surface, is a solar converter. This gives an extraordinary amount of surface area for sunlight to come into contact with, and therefore a sufficient amount of electricity generation.'
After a silence, Ethan asked, 'Are you saying that you have hair on top of your shoulders?'
'No', Phill smiled at him, then at me. 'Matthew actually placed all of my solar generator tubes on my head, and changed their colour to appear more Human-like. While this quite annoyingly reduces their power generation efficiency, Matt insisted that my previous appearance looked "weird".'
Ethan looked at me. 'It did!' I protested. I had tried to make Phill appear as Human as possible, and if I'd put that weird hair all over his head and shoulders it wouldn't have cut it. Or even slice it, for that matter. Besides, he'd started off bald, so he should consider himself lucky that I gave him hair at all.
'Alright then', Ethan said, half to himself. He probably thought it was kind of strange, having hair that generated electricity. And it kind of was. So his thoughts about it being kind of strange were correct. Because it kind of was. 'So that's how you do it then.' He bit his lip, and said thoughtfully, 'You know, one of these days, I'm going to know everything there is to know about you Cyborgs and Slugs.'
Boy laughed. 'I doubt it.'
I smiled, sincerely hoping that Boy was right; explaining strange things to Ethan, and getting his responses, was one of my favourite past times. In fact, so was letting him flounder in not knowing something that he knows he doesn't know. Hah.
'We're at a clearing', Carmen said, which made me look ahead. Turns out she was right; we were at some kind of PDN-style clearing. The ground was quite level, in contrast to the hilly area we were walking through before, and there was practically nothing around except for the grass strands and the Cyborg tower in the distance, albeit much closer now.
At least, there was nothing around until we heard a loud noise, and quickly turned around. There, above and behind us, a classic boxy Cyborg ship of some kind was shooting across the sky, headed straight towards us. I hoped that the radio-wave radiation meant that it couldn't spot us, but I doubted that we were that lucky.
'Here we go', I warned the others over the sound of the ship. 'Get ready for action.'
'Stay back Ethan', Phill said. 'I'll protect you.'
'Pfft', Ethan scoffed. 'I'll take on all of these guys myself.'
That was when the ship hovered a short distance away from us, and dropped off several dark shapes, which landed on the ground out of my view.
'On second thought', Ethan said. 'I think I'll leave this to you guys.'
'Good idea', I half said, but I was distracted; there was no place for Ethan to hide. This damn planet was so flat, and had no trees or anything that I could see, only those grasses. The tower was much too far away, and I couldn't even remember what direction the structure we'd exited the tunnels from was in.
Boy was next to me, and I grabbed his hand and gave him my desperate pleas to ensure that Ethan's safety was a priority. 'Agreed', he said out loud, but I felt his worry through our connection; he wasn't sure if we'd be able to protect him, if there was enough Cyborgs attacking us.
Well, we would see about that. I moved myself to be the closest Slug facing the ship as a second wave of shapes dropped off the ship, these ones shaped like humanoids.
The Human
"Agreed", Boy said for no particular reason. I gave no answer, because I was kind of engrossed in watching the Cyborg ship. I wonder if they had anything to do with the two loud booms that we'd heard before? Breaking the sound barrier or something?
The ship had dropped off some shapes behind a slight hill so that I couldn't see them land, but I had a feeling what they were. It was the same thing that the very first Cyborg that attacked Matt had landed on, back on Earth. It was like a large, circular plate with powerful magnets, which allowed the attacking Cyborgs to jump out of their ship and land on it without getting killed from the fall. The one on Earth had made a much higher jump though; I couldn't even see the ship back then, just the Cyborg that fell through the sky.
"I've seen this before", I told Phill, who was standing between me and the enemy.
"Yes, Matthew has described his first fight to me", Phill said. "At least, his first fight on Earth. The technique they are using is called CMI, or Cyborg Magnetic Insertion."
"Did you just make that up now?" I asked him.
He turned to me and smiled. "I actually made it up some time ago."
Meanwhile, it was pretty obvious that the Cyborgs knew we were here. We were kind of just standing in the middle of some flat land, not trying to hide or run or anything. I was taking great care not to step on any of the grasses, although no one else seemed to care about killing alien plant-life. The small bursting, squishing sound was quite creepy and disgusting, which made me feel like it was a bad idea to be stomping on them. But none of us had started frothing at the mouth from drinking their water (yet), so they can't be that bad I suppose.
The ship soon flew away pretty quick, as if it was in a hurry. Either that, or it was a technologically advanced spacecraft, and could simply fly very fast (it didn't break the sound barrier or anything - this time, at least).
Up over the gentle rise that hid the CMI's landing, a bunch of Cyborgs (it looked like more Cyborgs than we had Slugs, naturally) briskly walked over it. All of them had hair this time, on their heads and shoulders just as Phill had said. It seemed pretty random which of them had hair and which of them didn't. Speaking of which, Slob had hair, but only on his head. What was the deal with that? Or, more importantly, what made me possibly think that I would ever learn everything about these aliens?
"So few", Boy muttered loud enough for us all to hear. "It doesn't make any sense. Why are they sending so little Cyborgs to attack us, when we pose such a substantial threat to them? It is obvious that Slob knows who we are." 'So few'? If us being outnumbered counts as 'so few' Cyborgs, I didn't really want to see what Boy considers a fair fight. OK, I kinda did.
"Perhaps they don't view us as a threat", Phill suggested. "There is not much damage we can do on the ground."
"They are probably still preoccupied in the space battle", Carmen input. Hmm, perhaps that's what the booms were all about then?
"Y
eah, they ought to have their hands full up there", Matthew said.
"I'm not sure how we could know whether or not their hands were full", Boy said. "How do we know what they're holding?"
Before anyone could correct him, or laugh at him, the Cyborgs started to run at us.
"Here we go again", I said.
"What do you mean?" asked Matthew. "You don't do anything." And then he threw himself into the incoming Cyborgs.
For anyone else, it wouldn't been a bad idea. But Matthew wasn't anyone else. Well, nobody is anyone else, but you know what I mean. He turned to the side and threw his shoulder at the nearest Cyborg, a shoulder which I assumed was covered with a surface of Metal Slug. Whatever the case, the Cyborg he was aiming at caught him and spun around, throwing him into the middle of the group and out of my sight.
By this point, Boy, Frank, Carmen, Terry and Kerry had all gotten involved, and everything degenerated into a close-combat, melee war. It was difficult to make out individual fights, but I did my best.
"Stay near me", Phill cautioned me, as if I was about to charge in there myself.
I saw one of the Cyborgs whack either Terry or Kerry (who knows which?) on the back of the 'head', but since they were in that basic Slug form, I had no idea how much damage that did. I'm sure it must be hard to keep track of without always looking at them, but both Terry and Kerry weren't in humanoid form; they looked like all of the Slugs on Slugenis did, with the thick, legless base, three arms, and a head with two eye holes. It didn't look very conducive to fighting, but I supposed that the Slugs knew more about it than I did.
In either case, whichever Slug had been slammed from behind grabbed the Cyborg's hand with the arm coming out the back of the Slug. Before I could see what it did, Boy and the two Cyborgs he was engaged with stepped in front of them.
It didn't look like it was going good for him. Both of his fists were coated with Metal Slug, and he swung them violently at his opponents, but apart from a few chance blows he didn't land any good hits. The Cyborgs were splitting up, trying to get around him... before Matthew lunged out of whatever fight he was in, grabbed one from the side, and drew him into a different battle. As a one-on-one, Boy beefed up his offence to his enemy.
"Maybe you should go in to help", I suggested to Phill. I felt pretty bad, the two of us standing here not doing anything to help. I last time I tried to assist, a biologist had shoved me out of the way, but Phill could actually help out.
"I think you are right", the friendly Cyborg said after a bit of thinking. "Call out if you need me, and stay low", he called back as he ran to join in. I sure didn't get low, as that would just obscure my vision; besides, all of the Cyborgs seemed to be too engrossed in killing the Slugs to take any notice of a harmless human.
As soon as Phill ran in, he hit the nearest enemy Cyborg to him with a mighty blow to the back, which caused it to stumble forward into another Slug's attack. I hoped that none of us accidentally attacked Phill in there. Even though he was wearing clothes, how easy would it be to distinguish him from all of the other Cyborgs in the middle of a fight?
Whatever the case, I didn't see him taking any big injuries, which was good because he was the only one of us who couldn't biologically heal without extra parts and maintenance. And because I figured that he'd taken enough of a beating back on Earth. He deserved to be uninjured for once.
Before long, it looked as if we had them under control. Yes, we were just that good. One of our Slugs lay on the ground, but I determinedly didn't look at them lest I recognise who they are. All I could tell from the corner of my vision was that it wasn't Terry or Kerry.
The Slugs (plus Phill) had made a loose circle around the remaining Cyborgs, about five I could count from here. Our guys were closing in on them, making little strikes here and there, and mostly dodging everything that the enemy threw back at them; since the Cyborgs were tightly packed together, they had much less room to get out of the way of incoming blows.
Eventually, Matt seemed to have just had enough, and he threw himself on his nearest Cyborgs, wrapping his arms and legs around him in a big, all-encompassing hug. The rest of our group attacked as well, although not in such a weird way.
Now that the danger seemed to have passed, I started to move my way forward, towards the fight. The poor Cyborg that Matthew had jumped on had all of his limbs completely secured by thick tendrils of Metal Slug, and was basically stumbling around, trying to escape and to avoid falling over. It did fall eventually though (could you stay standing with a mad Slug wrapped all over you?) and Matt took this opportunity to hit it all over its body until it stopped moving.
Just as my happiness was increasing at our impending victory, I stumbled across the Slug that was lying on the ground, and looked before I could help myself. It was Boy, and from what I could see, his eyes were closed and he wasn't breathing.
The Cyborg
The Cyborg ship had just dispatched a number of Cyborg combat units behind a slight rise of the ground. It was beyond my field of view, but I made a preliminary estimation of 10 Cyborgs.
"I've seen this before", Ethan said from behind me.
It would have greatly helped my cognition of the concept he wished to convey if he had stated what it was he was referring to, but I noticed that Humans tended to ignore such a thing. I was left forced to infer that he was referring to the CMI method.
"Yes, Matthew has described his first fight to me", I told him. Making a slight amendment, I continued, "At least, his first fight on Earth. The technique they are using is called CMI, or Cyborg Magnetic Insertion."
"Did you just make that up now?" the Human asked me.
I turned to look at him, and said, "I actually made it up some time ago." Matthew was not the only one who had to translate concepts of his race into the Human language system.
Soon, the Cyborgs that had landed began to enter our sight-lines. I made an accurate count of 9 Cyborgs, and looked at each individual, hoping not to recognise any of them. I found neither Rabadootime nor Slob in the group. That was good; judging by the look of Matthew's face nearby, I couldn't guarantee any of the Cyborgs' survival.
Echoing a previous thought, Boy said under his breath, yet loud enough for the rest of us to hear, "So few. It doesn't make any sense. Why are they sending so little Cyborgs to attack us, when we pose such a substantial threat to them? It is obvious that Slob knows who we are."
The answer seemed obvious to me; there was very little that we could do on the ground to disrupt them. They planned to deal with us once the real threat in space had been dealt with. This, of course, is from their perspective; I personally doubted that they could defeat so many Slug star cruisers outfitted with the unknown Human technology without calling in a major contingent of reinforcements.
I summarised this as, "Perhaps they don't view us as a threat. There is not much damage we can do on the ground."
"They are probably still preoccupied in the space battle", Carmen suggested.
"Yeah, they ought to have their hands full up there", said Matthew. I conjectured that this could possibly be the source of the reverberating noises that we had previously heard.
Boy didn't seem to understand the phrase that Matthew had utilised. "I'm not sure how we could know whether or not their hands were full", he said. "How do we know what they're holding?"
Although the saying did not make technical sense, it still seemed fairly obvious that it was meant to be taken as a non-literal phrase, and that it was implying that the Cyborgs were wholly preoccupied with other matters, but Boy didn't seem to understand this. I was about to state this, but considered it an irrelevant thought when I noticed the Cyborgs rapidly moving towards us and so diverted my processes from considering the matter.
"Here we go again", Ethan stated.
"What do you mean?" asked Matthew. "You don't do anything." While this was perhaps true, I didn't see the need to speak in such a derogatory tone. Or perhaps it was meant as a joke?
Regardless,
Matt attacked the nearest Cyborg, the group of which had gotten quite close now, without hesitation. That Cyborg took hold of my friend, and hurled him behind him, where he would surely be attacked by a group.
I repressed my impulse to run in and assist him. The rest of the Slugs had already started to defend us, and I was tasked with staying with Ethan, lest he come to any harm. This had to be my primary objective; should Ethan be killed or damaged in any way, Matthew would completely close his heart and mind to the possibility of a peace between our races. Being an old Slug as he is, and the one with the greatest contact with both a Human and a Cyborg, his opinion will likely hold considerable sway in the Slug Empire, regardless of his mental condition. I had to ensure Ethan's safety against the Cyborgs to ensure that Matt does not look too unfavourably upon them.
That was, of course, just the secondary reason; the main motivation for my actions was simply because I valued the Human's well-being.
"Stay near me", I warned him, aware of his tendencies to change position in order to get a better viewpoint, to the detriment of his survival chances.
Satisfied that Ethan was safe, I began to observe the battle. It was a typical Slug-Cyborg encounter, with isolated pockets of fighting erupting within the overall context of the fray. I saw Frank attacking a Cyborg, only for it to be assisted by a nearby Cyborg that was previously engaged with either Terry or Kerry; like Ethan, I had yet to determine any distinguishing characteristics of the 2 Slugs to be able to effectively tell them apart. This seemed a weakness to me, especially in a combat situation, but I surmised that the Slugs had their ways of personal differentiation not visible to Ethan or myself.
I saw Matthew, the focal point of the encounter, able to keep up to 3 - and perhaps more - Cyborgs focused on him at a time, without taking any substantial damage.
At least, that was what I could observe; perhaps Matt was taking great damage, but he was just able to effectively ignore it. From what he described to me of the Slug sensation of pain, all Slugs should be able to do this. However, it was easy to see when a Slug other than Matthew was injured, and in which particular area.
For Matthew, this was not the case. As he had proven several times, he was able to take seemingly great amounts of damage without betraying any indication of pain or hindrance. Was this yet another facet of the total control he was able to exert over his body and its functions?
Whatever the case, he made a formidable fighter. Several times, despite being embroiled in an outnumbered fight of his own, he lunged out and grabbed a Cyborg that threatened a nearby ally and drew them into his own battle.
“Maybe you should go in to help”, Ethan suggested to me, averting my processes towards him.
Looking once more at the battle, none of the Cyborgs seemed in any way interested in either of us; they were too focused on defeating their immediate threats. “I think you are right”, I answered the Human. As I began to travel towards the fight, I told him, "Call out if you need me, and stay low." 'Stay low' was a common Human saying I was aware of, meaning 'stay inconspicuous'. Perhaps the word 'inconspicuous' was too cumbersome to pronounce, and this is why the Humans prefer the former phrase. Whatever the case, I judged Ethan to know what I meant.
Charging in, I capitalised on the Cyborgs' lack of knowledge of me by slamming the closest enemy. The force of the blow sent them surging forward, and I turned my attention to the next one.
Although I fought a cautious fight, wishing to prevent any injury to myself and believing that the Slugs could have handled this situation without me, this was the first major battle I'd been in that didn't involve me getting defeated by Rabadootime. I sought to prevent as much damage to myself as possible, staying on the fringe of the skirmish, only striking those Cyborgs whose backs were turned towards me. Although I didn't directly defeat any of them, I made it easier for my allies to do so.
I recalled the Humans phrasing a similar strategy as 'hit and run'; whatever they chose to call it, it was effective.
At some point, I saw one Cyborg deliver a great blow to Boy in his midsection; although he fended off the second strike, the Slug tumbled to the ground. Determining that he must have been struck somewhere in the vicinity of his brain, I closed in on the Cyborg which had injured him, taking a strike from the side by a Cyborg which had initially aimed the blow at Carmen.
From somewhere, Matthew jumped in and stood over Boy, fending off any Cyborg that dared to get close, a livid expression on his face. As to why he employed such a facial arrangement, I could not determine. He should know that Cyborgs are not cowed by such a thing as the physical look of one's body. Regardless, as most enemy Cyborgs were now dispatched - from my viewpoint, only 4 remained that were still in a fighting condition - it was not difficult to defend Boy's prone body.
The rest of our Slugs began to surround the Cyborgs, forcing them to group together. Our group didn't attack just yet, but rather herded them together to hopefully destroy them with no further casualties. I judged this to be a viable strategy.
"I'm alright", Boy said, but his voice indicated he had suffered some damage. "Just give me some time." Time. Once again, time was needed when it was in short supply, but was not needed when it was abundant. It did not often meet up with current needs.
"I'll give you more than that", Matt told him, and joined up with the circle of Slugs surrounding the Cyborgs.
Seeing no further threat to Boy, I also joined the ring of Slugs. Carmen, Frank, Terry, Kerry, Matthew, and myself were all now arranged in a ring around the 5 remaining Cyborgs, one of whom was severely damaged and in no condition to fend off an attack. We were tightening the circle we formed, defending against any counter-attack the Cyborgs attempted; they did not openly try to escape, as they knew to do so would leave their backs unguarded.
Once he judged us to be close enough, Matthew charged at the nearest Cyborg, stretching out his slime to wrap himself around the Cyborg, effectively incapacitating him. The rest of us also attacked, splitting up the Cyborgs to ensure that none went unassailed.
Although they tried to get away, the attempt was futile; there were too many of us for them to fight off. Before long, every one of them was destroyed, and the battle was over.
I turned, and watched as Matthew frenetically pummelled a Cyborg beneath him until it ceasing moving. He looked back at me and grinned.
I smiled back, but our short display of triumphant friendship was interrupted by an unintelligible cry. We both turned - as well as every other Slug, I suspected - and saw Ethan standing over Boy's prone body. The Slug's eyes were closed, and I could see by the lack of movement that he had most likely stopped breathing in order to better concentrate on healing.
I considered the expression of horror on Ethan's face, and guessed that, once again, he had jumped to conclusions, basing his knowledge on what he understood of Earth and the Humans. Indeed, Boy did appear to be dead. At least, he was in a state that the Humans associated with death.
As I quickly walked over to explain the situation to Ethan and dispel his incorrect fears, I wondered if he would look like that should he think that I had died.
The Slug
Boy was injured. My greatest, oldest ally was hurt. By Cyborgs. Who'd injured him.
Phill was quickly striding over to his prone form and Ethan was standing over him, looking down at him with horror. Even though I knew he wasn't dead, and would more than likely make a full recovery, I couldn't tell if Boy's fate provoked the same expression on my face.
Running over to him, I knelt down at Boy's side. The fact that he was so incapacitated from a single blow could only mean that he'd been struck somewhere near where his brain was located. Perhaps on his brain itself.
'Hey', I said softly. 'You alright?'
His eyes zipped open, and he said, 'Yeah, I'll be fine. Just let me move my brain out of this damaged area before I suffocate.'
'Ahh!' Ethan near yelled, pointing at him. 'He's alive!'
'Of course he is', Phill told him. 'A
lthough he was lying still and not breathing, that does not indicate that he was dead.'
The Human took a deep breath. 'Oh. Ahh. Well, you can see how I would think that...'
'Actually, I can't see that', Boy told him. Were this under different circumstances, I might have found that funny, but under these circumstances, I didn't find it funny. Because Boy was injured. By Cyborgs.
'You should be fine', I tried to console him. I gripped his hand, and squeezed it, willing my hope to be transferred through our slime connection.
He sent me back a mental image of where he'd been dealt the blow, and the position of his brain relative to it. The solid fist of the Cyborg had struck with enough force to send shockwaves of slime rippling through Boy's body; such was the strategy that the Cyborgs used. If hard enough, this could kill the slime that it damages, but it won't kill the Slug. Unless this wave of slime hit the brain.
Just before he was hit, after it was too late to stop it, he'd erected a slanted sheet of Metal Slug between his brain and the source of the blow, thereby deflecting most of the strike's energy. If this had not been done... Boy would have been more injured. By Cyborgs.
Through our contact, I sent my pride of him. I was his superior once, and, Slug, Human or otherwise, it should always make a leader proud to see their followers succeed.
Although, mere leadership and rank was not what had bound us together for such a long time. Slugs don't usually ever form close bonds with other Slugs, but when it happens, the Empire allows them to stay together in their assignments. I was thankful for it.
His response was somewhat confused. Indeed, I don't think any Slug had ever congratulated another on surviving an otherwise fatal attack. I should be mourning for him now, we should all be mourning, that his quick survival instincts of placing the Metal Slug deprived him of Honour. Deprived him of death.
As much as this repulsed me, as much as I hated what my race had become, it was now necessary. A lowly existence such as this was preferable to destruction and ruin. Any form of life was always preferable to the alternative. I had learned that lesson long ago.
'So you're going to be fine?' Ethan asked.
'Sure', Boy told him. 'I just need a bit of time.'
'What was that about you suffocating?' asked the Human. 'You can breathe just fine.'
'I said I needed to move my brain out of the damaged area before I suffocate', Boy began to explain.
I saw - through our connection, as I was still holding his hand - that he was trying to concentrate on shifting the slime within him, so I continued for him.
'What he means', I took over, 'is that if he doesn't move his brain, it will suffocate.'
Ethan gave me a quizzical look, as I expected, so I continued. 'What IIII IIImean is... OK. You know that slime can absorb oxygen to disperse it throughout our bodies, right?' Ethan nodded. 'Good. So. Due to the damage that the slime around Boy's brain took, that slime has probably been killed. From the trauma of the Cyborg's blow, that is.
'So. I just said "so" again. Anyway, because of this slime being damaged, and perhaps dead, it is most likely no longer capable of absorbing oxygen, at least at the required rate. If a Slug brain is surrounded by slime that is incapable of delivering oxygen to it...'
I trailed off, waiting for him to finish. When he said nothing, I prompted, 'Eh?'
'Oh', he said quickly. 'You want me to finish. Well, then he would suffocate.'
'Precisely', I confirmed. 'So he needs to shift his brain until it is surrounded by healthy slime, so that it can receive oxygen again. And it was pretty obvious that I expected you to finish the sentence, especially when I said "Eh?".'
'Well, I didn't think it was obvious', Ethan complained.
Phill added, 'If you expected him to finish your sentence, then you should have said, "please finish my sentence".'
'Whatever you say, Phill', I told him, amused. 'Regardless of that regard, that is why Boy needs to move his brain. So that his brain can breathe. Well, not really breathe, but you know what I mean. I hope.'
'Right', Ethan said. 'That makes more sense now. Although, what's going to happen to all of that dead slime?'
'Meh, we just leave our bodies to take care of that', I shrugged.
'It's quite easy', Carmen tried to steal my thunder. But my thunder wasn't about to be stolen by anyone. Not that it was my thunder in the first place. Thunder being a powerful natural force that cannot really be claimed or stolen by anyone. But that was beside the point.
'No way, I'm telling him!' I protested.
'You were the one who didn't wish to finish your previous explanation', Phill told him.
'Fine then', I huffed and turned away. 'Please continue, Carmen.'
She did. 'Our bodies are able to differentiate between slime that is dead, and slime that it can heal, based on what functions it can still perform. Slime it can heal it keeps in the centre of our bodies until it is fully repaired. Dead slime is shifted towards the outside of our bodies, until it is naturally shed along with all of our other slime.'
'Ah', the Human said. 'That makes sense; Boy told me about the whole shedding thing before. So doesn't that mean that he will end up shorter than he is now? And how do you move dead slime cells?'
'Which question would you like to be answered first?' asked Phill.
'Does it matter?' I asked him. 'And why do you care? It's not like you know the answers.'
'Maybe I do', he told me.
'Do you?' Ethan asked him.
'No', the Cyborg admitted after a pause.
I saw Boy smile at this; despite his concentration, he was still listening to us. Not that it was that difficult; the work that he had to do was mostly over. The body would naturally shift all of the damaged or dead slime cells to where they needed to go. All he had to do was focus on moving his brain, which he'd probably already done.
'So, then', Ethan said, 'Since Phill doesn't know, Carmen?'
Carmen explained, 'Boy will have the same amount of slime in him, but some of it will be dead slime. However, you cannot tell this just by looking at him. Of course, there is a host of other functions that the body needs to perform in order to cope with this - '
'Yeah, don't worry about that', I interrupted. 'It's a bit too complicated. Suffice it to say, Ethan, that everything we tell you is a simplified version of reality. Even we don't fully understand how some of these things work. Organic life tends to be kind of complex, you know.'
'Carrying on', Carmen went on, 'the dead slime cells, although dead, are still bonded to nearby alive cells. So we need only shift these healthy cells to wherever we want the dead ones to be, and the dead ones will move with them.'
'Cool', Ethan said. 'It seems there is yet more I don't know about you and your slime.'
'Believe me', I told him, 'there's a lot you don't know, nor have you thought to ask. But that's for another time. In another place. In another context. In another... alright, I'm done.' I smiled to myself as I thought about the long explanation I would have to give when I finally got around to describing how slime cells actually shift.
'Anyway, it's time to move on', Carmen prompted us.
'Agreed', Frank said. 'We should keep going towards that tower in the distance.'
'Well, it's not in the distance anymore', Ethan said. 'It's much closer now. And there's less Cyborgs between us and it.'
Boy sent me his wish for me to help him up. I complied, assisting him to get to his feet.
'Let's get going then', he said. 'We're not getting anywhere here.'
'Yeah', I agreed. 'We're burning sunshine.'
Boy gave me an absurd look at that, and evidently decided it was best not to ask.
'A wise decision', Phill complimented him. The Cyborg looked at me, and we both grinned.
The Human
"Walking", I said.
"Walking", Matthew said.
"Walking", I repeated.
"Walking", he copied.
"Walking down the river!" I called.<
br />
"Walking down the river!" Matt also called.
"There is no river", Boy commented.
"Nor is there any need to shout out what we are doing", Phill added.
I gave them an annoyed look. At least, I think it was an annoyed look. "Gee, thanks for ruining the mood."
"Yeah", Matt agreed. "You totally ruined it. We were full on getting into it."
"Getting into what?" Frank asked.
"Into the mood of singing a pointless song", Phill pointed out.
"It wasn't pointless!" I said, abhorred. "It was completely relevant!"
"Except we're not walking down a river", said Boy.
Matthew gave an exaggerated sigh. "Whatever the case, we're just about at that tower now."
Just as I was about to look up and see how close we were, this time two loud booms echoed across the area, causing me to jump in fright. "Goddammit!" I almost yelled. "Those sounds are really started to annoy me!"
"Haha", Matt laughed at me. "Seriously though, they're a real cause for concern. But we still have no idea what they are."
"Could they be ships blowing up in the space battle?" I asked.
"Unlikely", Phill told me. "Unless the ships actually descended into the planet's atmosphere before blowing up, they would not have created any sound waves to reach us."
"I guess so", I replied. Looking up, I saw that we were right at the tower, and all thoughts of mysterious sounds were gone from my mind. The big radio tower, or whatever it was, loomed above us. It looked pretty similar to how I imagined a radio tower to look; tall, metal, and thin.
It thrust out of the ground at five points, each of the shafts made of a thin steel substance, similar in appearance to every other Cyborg structure I'd seen. About three or four metres in the air, these poles congregated together into a metallic mesh that I guessed increased its strength. The whole thing finally culminated in a single, long, straight point, shooting up into the sky a great distance.
"It's tall", I said lamely.
"Indeed it is", replied Phill.
"So, what happens now?" I asked him. "Can you, like, plug into that and beam your consciousness across the whole planet?"
He slightly smiled. "No. However, I should be able to access it, and I can hopefully use its range to gain access to a greater portion of the Cyborg Archives and the planet's sensors, hopefully finding which direction our scout ship is in."
"Sounds good to me", Matthew said. "Let's go on then."
After another few minutes of walking (Matt and I didn't sing the 'walking down the river' song again), we got right underneath the structure.
"Look at this monolith", I commented.
"Wow, that is a sick word", Matthew said enthusiastically. "Give me another one."
"Obelisk", contributed Phill.
The Slug nodded in approval. "Also very cool."
"What we choose to call it doesn't make much of a difference", said Boy.
"Boy, Boy, Boy", Matthew shook his head. "A name makes all of the difference."
"Even if a name makes some difference", Frank disagreed, "it certainly doesn't make all of the difference."
"Yes it does!" shouted Matt quickly. Frank opened his mouth to reply, but Matthew quickly yelled over the top of him, "Yes it does!"
"Regardless", Phill said, trying to break it up - not that they were about to get into a brawl or anything - "Look for some manner of terminal like the last one which I can access."
We all split up, looking for anything that resembled a machine that Phill could plug his head into. I was at one of the bases of the tower, where one of its five legs were shoved into the ground. It was just a long, slanted pole that sprouted out of the ground, and reached up to join the other four. There was absolutely nothing resembling those computer things that the Cyborg was able to access before. Looking at the others, I saw that they were all in the same predicament.
"There seems to be nothing here", I called to them, as the five legs were spaced some distance away.
"Indeed", replied Matt. "But there must be something here - why else would they build this tower at this spot? Other than it looking imposing, of course."
"It doesn't appear overtly imposing", Phill said. "However, there should be something here." He looked down. "Judging by how the supports of the tower seem to penetrate into the ground, it can be assumed that a control room of some sort is underneath the surface. In addition, this is consistent with PDN's apparent custom of locating important terminals below ground level."
"You know what they say about assuming", Matthew warned him.
"No", answered Boy.
"I see another structure", called Carmen, pointing towards an identical-looking room as the first one we'd gone in, which led to the tunnels. It was only a short distance off. "Let's investigate in there."
As we silently agreed and began to walk towards it, Matt asked, " 'Investigate'? What are we, detectives?"
"Well, we are on an alien planet, trying to figure out how it works", I suggested.
He shrugged. "I suppose. Anyway, I'm thirsty again. Time to have another drink before all of my poor cells get sacrificed for the greater good."
Since I'd only had a sip of the water plants, I had a feeling I was much thirstier than him, but also much more cautious. But since I hadn't died or gone into a comatose seizure, I also figured I'd better drink up. Wouldn't it be a pretty lame death if I dehydrated while I was surrounded by water?
We all had a break for a few minutes as we took advantage of the non-sentient native life of PDN (except Phill, of course), and I noted that it's taste hadn't changed from the first time I'd drank it - like water that was so pure, it tasted weird. Which was quite weird in itself. I was used to drinking water full of chemicals that other people I'd never met had decided was healthy for me to be drinking.
After we were replenished, we continued our hike towards the building that Carmen had seen. The closer we got to it, the more I realised it was truly identical to every other one of these tunnel-buildings I'd seen. These damn Cyborgs had no taste for these kinds of things.
Matthew echoed my thoughts with, "This building looks exactly the same as the others!"
"Why make them look any different?" asked Phill.
"Variety is the spice of life", Matt answered.
"What?" spluttered Boy. "No it isn't!"
"Even if variety were a sensation of life", began Phill, 'I doubt that it would be spicy."
Matt huffed. "Fine then. Variety is the sour of life. See how bad that sounds? And that's not the point anyway. It would be hard to tell these buildings apart, since they all look the same."
"So it would seem", Phill agreed, "especially since no Cyborg here is connected to the network. However, it is obvious that the resident Cyborgs have their ways."
"Speaking of resident Cyborgs", I mused, "whatever happened with Slob?"
Frank grinned at me, which was weird almost to the point of disconcerting. I don't recall his face ever making that expression before. "I'm sure he will return to attack us", he assured me. "At some point."
"I agree", Boy told him. "Once he has developed a plan he thinks will defeat... us" - I'm sure he almost said 'Matthew' there - "he'll be back."
"Should be fun", I commented.
"On the contrary", Phill told me, "I doubt that it will be any fun. Especially for you."
I didn't reply to that, partly because we'd just arrived at the building, but mostly because I had no real answer. My probable death should a fight escalate to include me, as Phill just said, would not be fun at all.
The Slug
'Well, this is quite bland', complained Ethan as we inspected the interior of the Cyborg building. Of course, he was right; it was identical in every visible way to the other buildings we'd been in. But Phill had indicated that this one, being so close to that tower, must be important somehow, so I wasn't going to let myself be fooled by mere sight. It would take at least two other senses as well to fool me.
'Pe
rhaps it appears that way', Phill told the Human, 'but we should travel underground before making such a definitive statement.'
Ethan made a face at him, and I chuckled to myself. To my left, I saw Boy, also looking at Ethan, smile slightly.
The ground of this structure, which we already knew would slop downwards beneath the earth - or, beneath the PDN - did just that; it sloped downwards beneath the earth - or, beneath the PDN. It was going in the direction of the tower, however, so it seemed we were on the right track. Even if this was the only track.
As we walked down, Ethan mumbled, 'By the time we're done here, I'm going to be sick of walking.'
'Unless you physically walk too much', Boy told him thoughtfully, 'I don't think one can actually be sick from walking. I doubt that we have walked that much to push you to that limit.'
Ethan shook his head. 'What I meant was, I'm going to have had enough of walking. And I won't want to do it anymore.'
'How will you travel then?' asked Frank.
'By crawling!' I announced. No one responded to that, which obviously meant that I was right, and they all agreed with me.
We walked for another minute or two in silence, before Carmen asked the group, 'What shall we be doing after we leave here? Assuming that we succeed.'
'And don't die, you mean?' asked Ethan. He needn't worry; he would be the last one of us to die if I had my way.
'Well, I guess that Terry and Kerry will go back to active service, for as long as the remainder of their half-cycle of fighting. Is that right?' When no one replied, I prompted, 'Terry? Kerry?'
'Yes', Kerry - from my position, at least - replied. As the two Slugs were in contact, he spoke for both of them.
This brought about a little silence; it was obvious from this that they weren't really a part of our group. They were just two random Slugs that were with us on this mission. No one had really made an effort to integrate them, and to teach them full Human speech and culture and stuff. I guess that Frank, Carmen, Rosetta, William, Jason and Boy had only learned so well because they were the only Slugs apart from me. Now, with so many of us already being a part of our group, there was no real need or incentive to incorporate two more.
Whatever the case, I broke up the silence using my voice. And my voice said, 'After that, I'd like to go back to Slugenis and Earth, in any particular order, just to see what effect the trading has made between them. I imagine it continued on despite our not being there. It should be interesting.'
'So you mean you have no other important missions planned for us?' Boy asked me, grinning.
I smiled back. 'Not yet.'
'How long will it have been by the time we get back to Earth?' asked Ethan. 'In Earth years, I mean.'
'Who knows?' said Boy. 'We don't know the exact distance from PDN to Earth.'
'Yeah', I agreed. 'But I would guess that it's been longer than a Human lifetime. If it's about ten years from Earth to Slugenis, and PDN is way on the other side of Cyborg space...'
'It's quite a distance away, and therefore quite a long time', Ethan mused. 'It must be difficult, being cut off from the rest of Slug society by such a huge distance and time barrier.'
'That is why every Slug world is entirely self-sufficient', I explained. In a darker voice, I added, 'And why such a strong cultural system - that of Honour - is required to ensure that no Slugs deviate from the mandate of the Empire as a whole.'
'The Cyborgs require no such system', Phill said. 'We have a permanent memory of our purpose, and the reason for why we do what we do. That ensures that we remain loyal.'
'And why do you do what you do?' Ethan asked him. 'The Slugs kill you because they feel like they need to die to feel good about themselves, but why do the Cyborgs kill Slugs?'
Phill didn't speak for a few seconds. Finally, he responded with, 'We kill Slugs because we hate them; we hate them because they kill us.'
I dropped my head in frustration, hoping that none of the others would see, or consider its cause. Phill just practically told us that the only reason the Cyborgs are at war with the Slugs was because the Slugs were at war with them. We fought and killed each other for reasons no one can remember - although it may be in these very Archives, somewhere - and for no better reason than self-defence.
There was no better war that more primed for a peace to exist; all we had to do was simply talk to each other. That's it, just talk, using Human speech as the first vessel capable of such a cross-species contact. The Cyborgs would soon learn that we Slugs had no better reason to want them dead than they wanted us dead. A peace, a ceasefire, was bound to happen.
It would take time. Of course, it would take time. But it would happen; it is inevitable. And when it does, when the Slugs and the Cyborgs finally stop killing each other... that is when the Empire will be doomed. With no way to satisfy their lust for death, no war to grant them the all-consuming Honour each and every Slug desires over their own life, the Slug Empire would fall apart. The very system that kept our race alive while we fought this war would destroy us when the war ends.
This is why I must prolong this inevitable horizon for as long as I could. From what I had learned, the only thing standing between peace, and possibly friendship, between our two races was a lack of communication. Now that that gulf was filled, I had to keep this filling from spreading. This is why PDN must be destroyed; I couldn't allow knowledge of the Human language to leave this planet. There was no other choice in the matter.
Eventually, we entered a large, wide chamber, this one unlike all of the others we were used to.
'There you go, Ethan', Carmen said. 'A different room.'
'Good', the Human replied, oblivious to the imminent destruction of my race should the speech he so took for granted fall into the wrong hands. 'Now I'm happy.'
The room was filled with Cyborg computers, as unlike Human and Slug computers as their culture was.
'I predict that this is the room we were looking for', Phill said. 'Hopefully, I should be able to use the tower that is presumably above us to locate where our scout ship is, so that we can travel towards it. Give me a moment to find the right terminal.'
And so Phill walked forwards, and began to take off his headplate so that he could plug into the nearest terminal. As I watched him, I had a bit of hope. Hope that he would find not only where our ship was, but also the location of Slob, so that I could ensure that that was the first area that we bombed when we got off of this threatening planet.
The Human
Finally. A different room. It appeared that there was hope for these Cyborgs after all. Well, a bit of hope, at least.
We were in some kind of cavern, although that probably wasn't the right word for it, since all six walls (including the floor and ceiling, that is) were made of metal. I don't know, the word 'cavern' kind of implies an earthy place surrounded by dirt.
Well, anyway, the place was quite large. The roof was the same height as every other place we'd been in, but the horizontal space was much wider and longer than we were used to. It also lacked those grooves running along the walls, which I guessed meant that vehicles couldn't come in here.
Which was probably a good thing from their perspective. Wouldn't want a drunk driver in this place. Yes, that's right. A drunk Cyborg driver.
First up, each wall was completely filled with computers. Well, I assumed that they were computers; even though they had no screens or flashing lights or anything like that, they were kind of humming, and they had this look about them that said, 'I am a computer'. I couldn't see any cables, but as each computer was flat against a wall, I could pretty much tell that behind that wall was an alcove full of wires. If they couldn't communicate wirelessly, due to PDN's nature, then they had to have cables there.
The middle of the room wasn't empty though. At regular intervals spaced along the length of the place, a thick, rectangular column of metal thrust out of the ground and joined the roof (or thrust out of the roof and joined the ground?). Surrounding this column, on all
four sides and all the way from ground to roof, were more computers in a similar state to the others.
In short, the entire place was jam-packed with technology. There was barely any room to move about the place, but it was obvious that clear lanes were kept should we wish to explore the entire area.
Phill had already removed that section of his skull, and had plugged into a port on the nearest computer. Hopefully there wasn't too many of those things, otherwise we'd be here forever.
"Oi, Phill", Matthew said.
"Yes?" the Cyborg replied.
"What operating system do these computers use anyway? Do you have like Windowsill, or Pineapple, or a ripoff of one of those other ones that nobody knows about?"
"Plenty of people know about the other ones!" I tried to protect the other companies.
"Name one", he smiled at me.
I was pretty sure one started with 'L', but I couldn't name it, so I just gave him a dirty look.
Meanwhile, Phill responded. "Neither. Cyborgs computers do not use an operating system as humans know the term. As each Cyborg is in effect a computer unto themselves, we are the operating system. The computers simply provide the data, which we take in and interpret."
"Sounds good", Matthew replied.
We didn't speak for a bit as Phill detached from that computer and moved across the room to another one.
"If the Cyborgs tracked us last time from you accessing a terminal", I mused, "wouldn't they be able to do the same thing again?"
"Most certainly", Phill replied.
"Well then we'd better hurry", Boy warned.
Frank agreed. "I wouldn't want to be caught in a fight in here."
"Meh", Matt shrugged. "I could fight anywhere." He jumped towards Kerry and jabbed his finger in her face. "How about you, Terry!?" Well, I suppose to him, that was Terry. We really ought to sort this name problem out.
"Yes", Terry/Kerry said. Simple, monotone response, as always. I needed to put some more effort into those two.
"Interesting", Phill said from the third computer he was now plugged into.
"What is?" asked Carmen.
"I am in the right access port", the Cyborg began to explain, "to locate our scout ship. Indeed, using the radio tower above us, as we suspected this room was dedicated to, I have already found its location. It seems that towers such as this one use a specific frequency reserved exclusively for their use, meaning that it is not affected by the Cyborg Archive's radiowave pollution. However, it appears that PD-0034:N has an underlying information structure we were not aware of."
"Meaning?" asked Boy.
"Yeah", said Matt. "Meaning?"
Phill went on. "It appears that all of the information stored on PDN is grouped into classifications, most probably determined arbitrarily as the best and most efficient classification scheme. All incoming data from Cyborgs is sorted into its appropriate grouping, and then transferred to that group's physical location. In alternative words, each physical location of databases on the planet contains a particular theme. Based on this, I would hypothesise that one of the functions of the resident Cyborgs stationed on the planet, perhaps including Slob, is to oversee this data segregation.
"The interesting fact I have discovered is that this very location is one of these theme-bound information databases. I would therefore assume that each location has one of these towers upon its surface, for contact with the other stations, using the reserved frequency, thus negating the need for extensive wiring."
"OK then", I started, "so what is the theme - or classification - for this place?"
Looking at us, Phill explained, "This station" - alright, so it's called a 'station' from now on. Perhaps 'Cyborg station' would be clearer though? - "is dedicated to information related directly to PDN itself. There is a great wealth of data here, much more than I could possibly read through, let alone save to my memory. This room extends not only a great distance in all directions, as there are a multitude of similar rooms adjacent to this one, accessed through different structures and as-yet-unseen interconnecting doorways, but an identical setup is repeated each grouping of several metres, far into the ground."
"So you mean that there is like an entire skyscraper full of information-laden computers stored here, in three dimensions?" asked Matthew.
"Yes", Phill answered, "although I would postulate that the total area is much larger than a skyscraper of human proportions."
"What are you saying?" I challenged him. "That you have bigger skyscrapers than us? Because I haven't seen any Slug, nor any Cyborg buildings, above two storeys yet!"
Phill turned to look at me. "I didn't say that we had larger buildings, just that the comparison used by Matthew was insufficient to cover the magnitude of the Cyborg Archives."
Well, that made me shut my mouth.
"You're right", Boy said. "This is quite interesting."
Matthew added in a strangely thoughtful voice, "This means that, if we can find out the locations for each of these groupings of information, we can make precision strikes, and only destroy that information which we wish to destroy."
What difference did that make? I didn't know of any information that Matthew wished to specifically destroy. Perhaps he wanted to get rid of all of the data on himself; Lord knows, he must have made himself a bit of a stand-out Slug to be wary of amongst the Cyborgs, since most of his fights would have been recorded and sent here. I chuckled to myself as I thought of all the Cyborgs being scared of 'The Legend of Matthew... and his friend Ethan'.
"Indeed, this is true", Phill initially agreed, "but it was not what I was referring to." He turned back to face the terminal he was currently plugged into. "What I am accessing here is a layout of all of the locations of each station, and the grouping they are dedicated to under this classification system. Of course, I can translate the data into english for our use, including the labels of these stations."
Once more, he turned back to face each of us in turn. "One of these stations is labelled 'Slugs'. Another is 'The Slug-Cyborg War'. They are both in the opposite direction from us relative to the ship."
There was a long pause as we all thought about the implications of this.
The pause continued.
The pause was reaching critical mass and was on the brink of developing its own sentience.
And then it continued a bit more. Apparently the implications were reasonably big. It probably would've kept going too, but Phill had to break it by saying, "Oh, and Slob has detected me and is on his way."
The Slug Invasion Page 10
