The Genie and the Engineer 3: Ravages of War (6 page)

“View fantastic is!” approved Ariel-Leira.

“We agree!” Daneels 1 and 2 chorused.

“I can live with this,” Capie smugly concluded. “This will
do nicely, Paul. Quite nicely.” And then her look sobered into sadness. “Dad
would have loved seeing this.”

Paul reached out, bringing her in close, touching his helmet
to hers.

“I miss him too,” he told her tenderly.

Ω

Working as a team, they hollowed out a series of large rooms
underground a hundred yards back from the lip of the chasm. The excavated dirt
went into the chasm, of course. By late afternoon, they finished the construction
of several storerooms and space for two large workshops.

“We are going to need air soon for these rooms,” Paul
observed. “Daneels, if you please, would you extract oxygen from the Martian
soil and nitrogen from the Martian atmosphere for us. It shouldn’t be hard to
gather what is needed. Portal everything in here.”

“Acknowledged, Dad,” Daneel 1 replied. “On our way.”

Capie was looking around at the bare red rough rock walls,
which were not very aesthetic.

“Not too bad, considering the circumstances,” she said with
a thoughtful expression on her face. “After all, ‘It took the Starfleet Corps
of Engineers ten months in spacesuits to hollow out these spaces. What I did here,
I did in less than a day.’”

Paul barked in abrupt laughter. “Dr. Carol Marcus.
Star
Trek II: The Wrath of Khan
. My, you are on a roll today.”

“I thought you might like it,” his wife remarked with a grin
which faded quickly into a sigh. “It’s a good thing that we are not living down
here,” she noted, eyeing the walls grimly. “This place is pretty depressing.”

Paul chuckled. “They’re just storerooms and workshops, CB. Now,
when we get the Gathol House built, that’ll be all yours, my dear, to decorate
as you please. However, right now, I think I will go create a latrine for, uh,
temporary use. Later, I’ll need to design and build a working bathroom with
associated plumbing.”

“Understood. Please, don’t let me stand in your way,” she
said, with exaggerated conviction. “In the meantime, I think I’ll go find something
to eat. I’m starved! I wonder if there are any fresh apples in the ship’s stores.”

Ω

Paul was finished with the latrine and had started working
on one of the workshops, carving shelves and tables out of pure stone when the
Daneels returned. The underground chambers had been successfully stocked with a
50/50 mix of nitrogen and oxygen at 6.1 psig; thin but breathable.

That task completed, Paul sent the two Scotties off to begin
unloading all of the supplies from the ship. He watched as they set up a portal
from the
Sirius Effort
to the first storeroom and began the process of
passing boxes and packages through. Then he himself returned to his work.

Tomorrow, they would begin building the house. Titanium,
carbon, iron and silicon topped the list of required materials, quite a few
tons of each. Deposits of those and several other minerals would have to be
found and mined. Yes, sir, lots of work.

Ω

Dragging himself back to the ship was difficult. Every
muscle hurt. And judging from all the aches and pains, every bone, every
individual blood cell, and every hair follicle did too.

He found Capie on Deck 3, waiting with a lasagna, rolls, and
salad, one of his favorite meals. After stuffing himself to the brink and then
taking a warm shower, he felt a lot better.

In the meantime, Capie had turned down the bed on Deck 4,
with fresh clean sheets. Dressed in a white night gown, she lay on the bed
waiting for him, the stuffed puppy Patches in the crook of one arm and a sly
smile on her face.

“You know I like it when you wear that nightgown,” he
growled happily, suddenly feeling a whole lot less tired.

She smiled seductively and patted the bed in front of her.

“I hope you are ready to cuddle,” Paul suggested coyly.

“Just try to get out of it,” Capie purred, with lips parted.

The planet Mars

Coprates Chasma

Gathol House

Friday, 8:21 a.m. LMST

December

Day 7

T
here were so
many things to do before actual construction could even begin on Gathol House,
that Paul felt overwhelmed by it all. More geological and mineralogical surveys
to find all the right ores and minerals. The mining and processing of said materials.
Transporting everything to the house’s construction site. (And yes, it would
help if they could find a suitably large rock somewhere in the Valles Marineris
vicinity to use for magical spells!) Manufacturing building materials (sheets
of diamond, titanium and iron I-beams, aluminum piping, sheets of stone veneer
for the interior walls, etc. etc.) And then there were the site preparations,
including the assessment of the site for load bearing strength.

After all of that, then they could start the excavations for
the footings and foundation work. And for the wall anchors too, if they were needed.

When breakfast was concluded, the four of them divided up
the work and headed in separate directions.

Ω

By the end of Day 20 after landing, when they collapsed in
near exhaustion on a sofa in the living room, the house was essentially
finished, except for some minor potential tweaking Capie planned to make in the
months to come.

And it was gorgeous.

The living room, by far the largest space in the house,
occupied the entire southern half of the dome. The sofas and easy chairs all
faced outward, to present their occupants with the wonderful views of the
Coprates Chasma, extending from east to west, including views of portions of
the north cliffs. Capie had provided the room with all sorts of deft feminine
touches including paintings, decorative lamps, strategically placed end tables,
knick-knacks, lacy white linens and throw pillows, polished marble and granite tiled
floors, and intricately carved moldings for the wainscoted walls. The north
side of the dome held the kitchen, an intimate dining room, a master suite with
a palatial sized bathroom, and an office with two seemingly genuine roll-top type
desks. And Ariel-Leira was prominently hanging on a wall close to the front
window, giving her a preeminent view of the scenery outside.

Each room of the home had received personal attention with
decorations and finishing touches that would have been the envy of
Better
Homes & Gardens
or
House Beautiful
.

Paul was pretty proud of the finished product and even more
proud of his very talented and increasingly beautiful wife. He snuggled closer
to her on the sofa.

“That’s Phobos, isn’t it?” Capie asked him.

Paul looked up, to the west, through the diamond dome over
the house. An irregularly shaped pale grayish moon was quickly rising above the
Pavonis and Arsia volcanoes into the sky.

“Yes, that’s Phobos. Compared to our moon, it’s sort of
weird,” he commented reasonably.

“I remember Edgar Rice Burroughs called it Thuria in his
Barsoom books. Hmm, I also remember its only 14 miles in diameter,” Capie said.
“And it orbits a lot closer to Mars than the Moon does to Earth. In fact, it
probably can’t be seen from the northern or southern latitudes at all.”

“I believe you’re right,” Paul said with a smile. “Not
exactly a lover’s moon, is it?”

“No, but I’m glad we can see it from our house. It adds to
the scenery,” she said, approvingly.

Paul smiled casually. “I’m glad you like it.”

She glanced around. “Where are the Daneels?”

“In the workrooms,” Paul replied with a yawn. “They are
doing more excavation work for me, expanding the storage areas, making room for
the raw ores we will need for the Scotties and chutzpahs. We will need quite a
bit of work space for all the fabrication processes for the Scotties,
especially. And the circuit boards, CPUs and other hardware. Oh, and more
laboratory space for you and your Magic Bullet Elixir project.” He yawned
again, this time longer than before. “Now that the Gathol House is done,
tomorrow we will start mining the minerals for the fab of the new Scotties.
Silicon, copper, gold, platinum, germanium, iron…”

“I got it, dear,” Capie interrupted him, leaning closer to
put her head against his chest. “Now, to change subjects on you, I would like to
ask you for some additional help in keeping this house clean. It won’t take
long, not if we stay ahead of it. ‘I will clean the house on even days and you
will clean it on the odd days.’”

Paul chuckled quietly, quoting the next line. “‘We’re going
to clean the house every day?’”

She grinned mischievously. “‘No, only on the odd and even
days.’”

“Nog and Jake Sisko,” Paul responded, correctly identifying
the source of the quote. “
Star Trek Deep Space Nine
. For a
Star Trek
series, that ended a little odd, don’t you think?”

“It did. Much different than
The Next Generation
or
Voyager
,”
she agreed. “But don’t change the subject. You have the odd days, I have the
even ones. Right?”

When he failed to respond, she turned her head and looked over
at his face.

He was sound asleep.

“Hmm.”

Ω

Day 23

“So we are only fabricating the hardware for twelve new
Scotties?” Daneel 1 asked with sincere surprise.

Paul and the two Daneels were in the workshop dubbed as the
Hastor Room (from Burroughs’s book
A Fighting Man of Mars)
, examining
the cardboard boxes on the workbench, each one loaded with a variety of
electronic components, from resistors up to integrated circuits, all purchased
on Earth and transported to Mars in the storage hold of the
Sirius Effort
.
Indeed the only missing components for the new Scotties were the printed
circuit boards, the CPUs, and various hardware pieces and mounting brackets.

“Yes, that’s correct,” Paul admitted, a bit embarrassed.
“Did I forget to mention that before? Sorry. I’ve been sort of busy. To be
sure, in the not too distant future, we will need the hardware for lots of
Scotties. And we’ll need to foster forty-nine new lines of Scottie progenitors as
well. So what we need is a nice efficient production schedule to accomplish
everything in the shortest possible time frame.”

“All of which makes perfect sense, Dad,” Daneel 2 observed
thoughtfully. “So why twelve…oh wait! I get it. That’s how many spare Oni
talismans we have. Duh!”

“Right. The fastest way to get more Scotties online is to clone
the two of you. That might take us a couple of weeks. On the other hand, it
will take ten weeks to nurse new progenitors to adulthood and then start
cloning them.”

“Got it. So all twelve of the new Scotties will be Daneels?”
Daneel 1 asked. “Yes that makes sense as well. With fourteen of us operational,
the work will go a lot faster.”

“Exactly,” Paul agreed as he rubbed his hands together,
smiling. “We’ll split the fourteen Scotties into teams. A team to continue
mining raw materials, a second one to process them, another one to assemble the
new Scotties, and the last one to make new talismans.”

“Talismans?”  Daneel 1 asked. “You aren’t going to make
chutzpahs?”

But Paul just shook his head. “Not at first, no. The isotope
conversions would take too long. Later, when we have a lot more Scotties up and
operational, we’ll invest the time. But right now it’s more important to have
as many Daneels as we can get, even if all they have are standard talismans.”

“We have almost all the hardware we need for twelve more
Daneels,” Daneel 2 pointed out, waving a hand on his monitor screen at the
workbench. “Except for the CPUs, some hardware and the printed circuit boards.”

“I suggest fabricating the CPUs first,” recommended Daneel
1. “And for that, we need a clean room.”

Paul smiled and nodded pleasantly. “I agree with that.
Fortunately, that isn’t too difficult.”

With a wave of his hand, the walls, ceiling and floor took
on a glazed look as Paul fused their surfaces, preventing them from
contributing any further dust or dirt particles into the air. Then he cast a
second spell that condensed all of the particulate matter and water vapor in
the air down to a single small ball of mud floating gently in front of him.
With a twitch of his finger, it was hurled into one of the adjacent workshops.

“I’ll take care of it later,” Paul asserted with a negligent
wave of his hand.

“That’s the problem with housekeeping on Mars,” Daneel 2
whimsically complained. “Not a rug to sweep dirt under on the whole
planet
.”

“The CPU templates are still packed away in the Astok
storeroom,” Daneel 1 said.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Paul admitted with a thoughtful
frown. “You remember how much trouble we had with the original designs.
Especially the heating problem and the data bus sync issues. Well, I have a
couple of ideas for improvements in mind—”

“‘I know engineers! They LOVE to change things!” Daneel 1
said, quoting McCoy in
Star Trek The Motion Picture
.

“Indeed,” Paul responded, doing a fairly credible effort of mimicking
Teal’c from
StarGate SG1.

Ω

Day 28

Paul was in the Talu Workroom (from
The Warlord of Mars
),
watching the fabrication of the first of the CPUs for the new Scotties when a
six inch hologram of Capie appeared in midair in front of him. “Dinner is
almost ready,” she announced.

“Hey, that’s great news,” Paul said with a grin, wiping
sweat from his brow with the back of one arm. “I’ll be right up.”

The hologram smiled impishly. “I did a little improvising. It
turned out pretty good, too, if I say so myself. I hope you like spaghetti?”

“As a matter of fact, it is a favorite of mine,” Paul
replied with a chuckle. “I’m on my way!”

Their dining room table settings were most impressive. Silver
plated dishware, diamond drinking glasses and titanium flatware. Synthetic
flowers sat in a china vase in the middle of the table. An embroidered
tablecloth sported intricate floral designs. Red and white checkerboard
placemats with matching napkins lent a hint of Italian ambience to the room,
not to mention the soft Italian music playing in the background.

Paul nodded in approval. “Outstanding!” he told her. “First
class. From this point forward, you are the official interior decorator and
chief cook!”

She bowed. “Thank you, kind sir.”

Paul held out the chair for his wife, then eagerly grabbed
one for himself. He was enough of a gentleman to serve her plate first but he
doubled the amount on his plate and dug in with gusto, twirling the noodles
around his fork before stuffing his mouth full.

“Hmm,” he hummed, his eyes closed as he savored the flavor.

Capie grinned as she ate a bite. She didn’t say anything,
just watched her husband as he ate in enjoyment.

After a few minutes, Paul slowed down a bit and grinned his
appreciation at his wife.

“Best spaghetti I’ve had in ages. Thanks!”

“You’re welcome.

Paul noticed that the music was playing an Italian song he
actually knew.

He hummed to it. “When the Moon hits you eye, like a—”

“You should ask for your money back,” Capie advised him.

“My money?” Paul asked, as he stuffed a roll in his mouth
and chewed. “What money?”

“For your singing lessons, CR,” she replied, with a smile.
“Well, I guess my husband can’t be perfect in all things.”

He gave her a mock glare. “Oh, it’s that way now, is it? Not
perfect, heh? I was just getting warmed up. Listen to this!”

And he cast a small spell, changing the tune being played
and then another spell aimed at his vocal cords, before letting it rip.

Oh, Danny Boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling

From glen to glen, and down the mountain side

The summer’s gone, and all the flow’rs are dying

‘Tis you, ‘tis you must go and I must bide.

But come ye back when summer’s in the meadow

Or when the valley’s hushed and white with snow

‘Tis I’ll be here in sunshine or in shadow

Oh, Danny boy, oh, Danny boy, I love you so.

And if you come, and all the flow’rs are dying

If I am dead, as dead I well may be

I pray you’ll find the place where I am lying

And kneel and say an “Ave” there for me.

And I shall hear, though soft you tread above me

And all my grave will warm and sweeter be

And then you’ll kneel and whisper that you love me

Oh, Danny boy, oh, Danny boy, I love you so.

For several moments after Paul finished the last note, Capie
said nothing, frowning instead, deep in thought.

“You didn’t like that?” Paul asked, puzzled by her reaction.

“Yes, I did,” she replied with a sad smile. “It was
beautiful. Beyond beautiful. I’ve never heard that song sung better. Thank you.
In fact, I have never heard any voice sing any song like that before. You did
use magic to alter your voice, right?”

Paul shrugged, still not understanding why she hadn’t liked
his performance. “Yes, I did. I used a combination of Andy Williams, Dean
Martin, Frank Sinatra, Jim Nabors, David Archuleta and Harry Connick, Jr,
combining the best elements of all their voices. Sort of like what Data did
when he was playing a violin in the episode “The Ensigns of Command” in
Star
Trek: The Next Generation
.”

“Yes, I thought so,” she said with a ghost of a smile. “You
did a very good job of it. But it has made me realize something.”

Paul frowned, now confused. “What?”

“This magic business,” she said. “Color me slow but I’ve
never quite realized until now how much of an impact it will have on us. I
mean, it can do far more than just cure spinal injuries. It could give me a
perfect singing voice too, right? And painting skills, dancing skills, playing
any instrument known to man, and so on and so on. And it can make me the most
beautiful woman on Earth and nearly immortal as well. In fact, it’s taken until
this moment for me to fully understand why the wizards of
Errabêlu
look
down on mere Normals. It would be hard
not
to do so when they have
perfect talents and perfect bodies that live nearly forever while everyone else
is so obviously imperfect and thus inferior.”