A Separate War and Other Stories (30 page)
Read A Separate War and Other Stories Online
Authors: Joe Haldeman
“I don't believe in luck, Fred. There's incompetence somewhere along the line.”
“They're doing all they can, sir. The director assigned another team of a hundred men to the hunt.”
“Maybe he's lying low for a while, on the West Coast or in Canadaâ”
“We have men there, and there. And in Mexico and Cuba.”
(When Harry woke up there was a bright line of sunlight shining under the door. He ate a stale sandwich and sipped water from his canteen.)
“Almost time to go, sir.”
“Thank you, Joyce. You watch on the video and feed me the speech after I finish my opening remarks.” Braxn heard the helicopters' engines starting, up on the roof.
(He heard the footsteps long before the man got to the shed. When the door opened, Harry was standing to one side, rifle held horizontal, butt first, at eye level. The Secret Service man stepped in, laser in one hand and flashlight in the other, and probably never felt the twenty-pound club strike his temple.
(Harry considered taking the laser, but decided it wasn't accurate enough at eight hundred meters. He heard the flutter of helicopters and crawled over the agent's body and started around the catwalk.)
Braxn looked out the window and saw the green field, the school, the bleachers slowly rising up to meet him. He mentally reviewed his opening comments, going over the ways they would have to be modified, according to who had or had not shown up.
(He crawled to his firing position just about the same time as the helicopters touched down. He put a handful of ammunition in front of himâthe rifle worked like a double-barreled shotgun; had to be reloaded after every second shotâand focused the scope on the door of the white helicopter.)
Braxn let two of the Secret Service men precede him then he stepped out onto the grass, Fred following, and then:
There's the bastard! Breathe and hold. nowâ¦
Crosshairs swing over and settle on Harriman's chestâ
Braxn jumped to the right.
No place to hide
â¦swing to the left
Aim for the top of his head not sure how far it'll drop but only has to hit his big toe and he's deadâ
“You can die here,”
Father said. Jump leftâ
Swing rightâ
Fred caught Braxn's arm in a tight grip. “Sir! What'sâ”
now
Let go!
“Let go!”
The force of the bullet jerked Braxn from Fred's grip and his right shoulder erupted in a spray of blood and muscle and bone splinters. His body turned a half somersault in the air and he landed heavily just as the sound of the shot, rolling thunder, reached him, and then the second bullet dug a furrow inches from his head.
Lasers crackled and filled the air with ozone while the doctor did something to stop the cephalic and brachial veins and the brachial artery from oozing and spurting blood. He gave a quick injection for shock just as the third bullet whirred by his ear. The fourth hit a Secret Service man in the abdomen, killing him.
Harry chambered two more shells and smiled. They might get him sooner or later but, as he had figured, those lasers just wouldn't reach. He put his eye to the scope and looked for a good target.
He didn't see the Secret Service agent who had jumped back in the helicopter, as he poked the snout of a 30/06 Mannlicher target rifle out the door. Harry was just starting to squeeze the trigger as the relatively small bullet from the agent's gun fortuitously struck the end of his telescopic sight. The metal eyepiece slammed back, putting out Harry's eye very painfully.
He stood up raging, blood streaming from his eye, and fired two wild unaimed shots before the second small bullet opened a bloody rose in the center of his chest. The bullet passed on through and penetrated the metal skin of the water tank and a jet of water pushed Harry off the catwalk.
Â
“Son! Wake up! This body is dying.” The illusion of a friendly octopoid figure floated in front of Braxn's eyes, not quite as real as the bright light and anxious masked people hovering over him; green tunics smeared with blood.
“It hurts, Father.”
The surgeon didn't look up, but one of his assistants turned bright eyes to the president's face.
“I know you are probably in pain,” the prerecorded, hypnotically implanted image said. “Remember your learnings and ignore the pain. You may be able to escape.
“If you have learned enough about power, if you've learned enough from
both
sides, you have no further use for this body. Try to reach out and find another.
Try!
”
Braxn tried, but the pain was too much of a presence, a crushing weight.
“This pain is not mine,” he said aloud. “This pain belongs to this body.” He took that thought and pulled it, stretched it until it lay over the dying organism like a shroud. The pain didn't fade, but it slowly became less important. He reached out and
pushed
.
The surgical mask was rather tight and tasted slightly of lipstick. Scrubbed down in too much of a hurry. Good to be in a young woman's body, after thatâ
“Scalpel!” the surgeon said. “God⦔ With hands that were his and not-his, Braxn slapped a scalpel into the doctor's waiting palm.
“No heartbeat.” He made an incision, deep, in Harriman's chest, held it open and plunged his gloved hand in to try to massage the heart back into action. Braxn knew it was useless; Harriman had died of spiritual abdication.
Eventually he stopped trying. He stripped the gloves from his hands and pulled down his mask. With an opportunity to say something that would ring down through the ages, the doctor just shook his head, whispered an earthy syllable, and stalked out.
Afterwards, washing up, Braxn was still enough of a politician to wonder whether that doddering old fool of a Speaker would have the grace to step out of the line of succession.
(1970)
(A Play in the Form of a Feelie Script)
Â
ESTABLISHING SHOT I: Slow DOLLY down buffet table loaded with rare and expensive foods. Linger on certain items: purple Denebian caviar in crushed ice with pattern of thin lemon circles; a whole grouper jellied in crystal aspic; pepper-roasted bison haunch, partially sliced, pink and steaming; platoons of wine bottles ranked at end of table, some on ice (use stock SMELL for simulated items, linen tablecloth FEEL down to wine bottles; switch to cool smooth moist glass FEEL at end).
NARRATOR
SEXY CULTURED VOICE
There are almost ten million people on Earth with personal worth over ten million credits. Nine million, Nine hundred and ninety-nine thousand of them are just too poor to be invited to this party.
PAUSE AT BISON HAUNCH
Of the remaining thousand, say, roughly half are too new to the game of superrich to be considered.
SUBLIMINALS: Feel and smell of money.
Half of the eligible five hundred either have unfortunate politics or are simply disliked by the host.
SOUND UNDER NARRATOR: polite early cocktail party chatter.
The rest were all invited. Many were off-planet, some did not care for the host, some had pressing business elsewhere. Eighty-three of them have never appeared in public, and this party seemed too public.
Ninety-four came, some with wives or husbands or concubines or friends; a total of one hundred and fifty-one fortunate people. We are interested in only a few of them.
CUT from wine bottles to HAZLIK. HOLD glass FEEL in right hand. SOUND UP. FEEL expensive clothing on SOMATIC: Healthy though no longer young male body. TASTE of fine wine and SMELL of good dope. ADD SOMATIC: Dope 0.20.
TIGHT on HAZLIK, who is talking animatedly, but his voice is lost in SOUND.
NARRATOR
You have never heard of Theophilus Hazlik. His anonymity costs him over ten million credits per year. He owns an interstellar shipping agency, seven industrial combines, and two countries on two planets. One of them is on Earth.
He is the host.
CUT TO: MEDIUM TWO SHOT of HAZLIK and CELIA OBRAVILLA. FEEL dopestick in CELIA'S left hand, HOLD glass FEEL in right. FEEL cool airco breeze on exposed breasts, silk cape over shoulders, silk trousers, and no underclothing. Mix TASTE good dope and wine. SOMATIC: Dope 0.30, female sexual tension 0.10. (CELIA is about forty but looks half that. See if Special Effects can get across a somatic subliminal of cosmetic surgery; face and body).
NARRATOR
Celia Obravilla. Born into big money, married bigger. Husband died and she invested wisely. She would be the most sought-after woman at the partyâ¦except there were certain questions about her husband's deathâ¦of course, it would be gauche to suggestâ¦and dangerousâ¦
SOUND UNDER and TIGHT ON CELIA.
CELIA
GESTURING WITH DOPESTICK
â¦tiresome, tiresome. I told him, Professor, if
I
can't buy it, nobody can; and if it can't be bought, I don't want it.
SOUND UP and CUT to SAUL MORENO. He is a small dark man, sitting alone in a corner. FEEL tight formal clothes that don't quite fit, heat from coffee mug in right hand. TASTE aftertaste of bitter coffee. SOMATIC NULL.
TIGHT ON MORENO.
NARRATOR
You might have heard of this man, if your profession involves prostitution or wholesale distribution of smuggled interstellar goods. He is Saul Morenoâ¦
MORENO sips coffee. TASTE real coffee flavored with honey and cardamom.
NARRATOR
â¦and he is not the only criminal here. For instanceâ
CUT to FREDRIKA OBLIMOV, talking seriously to someone off-camera. She is very old, but beautiful in a cool, elegant way. SOMATIC: generalized aches and twinges of old age. Strong TASTE of gin, though she isn't holding a glass. SUBLIMINALS: feel of spiderwebs and smell of mildew.
NARRATOR
This is Fredrika Oblimov, who is the oldest person at the party and probably the most dangerous. She owns an army, but it is not a conventional one. She has made a moderately large fortune by arranging to have very important people murdered. These by verbal contracts, paid in advance, books juggled in advance to hide her fee, hypnotic wipe of memory of agreement. No money-back guarantee, but she claims never to have failed. She has a contract on one of the people at this party.
Watch now: she is telling a joke.
SOUND OUT and explosive laughter. CAMERA CUTS from person to person, six people standing around FREDRIKA, all laughing desperately. FEEL, SMELL, TASTE, SOMATIC: NULL. HOLD SUBLIMINALS and ADD ADRENALINE: 0.10.
CAMERA HOLDS on seventh man, who is not laughing, but has a small innocent smile.
NARRATOR
Do you see this man?
HOLD NULL and SUBLIMINAL DISSOLVE to SUBLIMINAL: Feel of cold marble and ADD ADRENALINE: 0.12. DOLLY to BIG CLOSE-UP on face: no movement whatsoever except eyes, slowly scanning from left to right.
NARRATOR
He works for Fredrika. Or, if you prefer, he is her husband. This week.
CAMERA PANS down arm to left hand. BIG CLOSE-UP on hand, thumb rubbing across fingertips.
NARRATOR
This is not a hand. It's a prosthetic device: the fingernails are harder than steel and keener than razors. Underneath the fingernails, a fast-acting nerve poison.
ADD ADRENALINE: 0.15 and ADD somatic SUBLIMINAL: Nausea. SOUND UP as laughing dies.
NARRATOR
He is careful whom he touches.
CUT TO: MEDIUM SHOT of FREDRIKA and the people surrounding her.
FREDRIKA
You are all so kind.
CUT TO: MEDIUM SHOT of HAZLIK. FEEL, TASTE as before, ADRENALINE and SUBLIMINALS OUT.
HAZLIK
LOUDLY, WELL OVER SOUND
All right, everybody. Let the feast begin!
FADE TO COMMERCIAL.
COMMERCIAL. (One minute Stiffener © spot)
FADE IN ESTABLISHING SHOT II: Same scene as first establishing shot, but buffet table is now a confusion of empty serving dishes, picked bones, empty bottles, etc. SMELL and TASTE: Good food and drink, tang of dope and tobacco smoke. SOMATIC: Pleasantly full, satisfied feeling. SOUND of slightly more animated conversation over subdued clatter of dishes and servants clean off table.
CUT TO: MEDIUM SHOT of HAZLIK standing, talking to an attractive woman seated on a cushion. FREDRIKA and her companion approach.
FREDRIKA
Pardon me, Theoâ¦
CUT TO: MEDIUM CLOSE-UP of HAZLIK as he turns, carefully does not react, smiles warmly. SOMATIC: Small shiver and ADRENALINE: 0.05.
HAZLIK
Ah, Fredrika.
CUT TO: MEDIUM GROUP SHOT of HAZLIK, FREDRIKA, and COMPANION.
FREDRIKA
Theo, I don't think you've met my husband, George.
HAZLIK knows exactly what GEORGE is. As they shake hands: ADRENALINE: 0.10, SUBLIMINAL: Feel and smell of clotted blood. FEEL of rough skin against rough skin.
HAZLIK
URBANE: HONEST OPEN SMILE, CRINKLED EYES.
My pleasure.
GEORGE
COLD SMILE
Yes.
MEDIUM TWO SHOT from George's point of view: HAZLIK and FREDRIKA silently regard each other just a moment longer than politeness would allow. ADRENALINE, SUBLIMINAL OUT. SOMATIC: Nerve in neck begins throbbing.
HAZLIK
QUESTIONING
Business has been good.
FREDRIKA
No worse than usual.
PAUSE AND IRONIC SMILE
Men still pay for my services. Fatal attraction.
HAZLIK does not smile. ADRENALINE: 0.12, SOMATIC: Nausea of fear. HAZLIK drinks large gulp, TASTE and SMELL of warm brandy going down. NAUSEA UP and ADD SOMATIC: gagging reflex.
HAZLIK
COUGHS
Pardon me. (COUGHS AGAIN) Have to cut down on my dope.
FREDRIKA
I can recommend a good hypnotist.
HAZLIK
CATCHING REFERENCE TO F'S BUSINESS METHODS
I've tried that. Several times, I think.
FREDRIKA
MERRILY, GLIDING AWAY
You're right, you're right.
SUBLIMINAL: Feel of cobwebs and sound of batwings.
HAZLIK turns back to young lady. ADRENALINE HOLD and SUBLIMINAL OUT. SOMATIC: Male sexual tension 0.10.
INTERCUT CLOSE-UPS, HAZLIK and GIRL.
HAZLIK
You were saying?
Girl is wearing gossamer chemise. FEEL of silk against nipples and thighs. SOMATIC: Female sexual tension 0.20. SMELL of vaginal musk and perfume. GIRL runs tongue between lips rapidly. TASTE and FEEL of warm flesh.
GIRL
Not what I was saying. What I was thinkingâ¦
HAZLIK
BACK IN CONTROL
Do you think often?
GIRL
IGNORES JIBE
I was wondering what it would be like to make love to a billionaire.
HAZLIK
SOMATIC: Male sexual tension 0.30.
Seven times over.
GIRL
CONFUSED
Seven
times
?
HAZLIK
CHUCKLES. SOMATIC: Male sexual tension 0.40.
No, noâseven billion.
GIRL
GIGGLES
I thoughtâ¦
HAZLIK
SOMATIC: Male sexual tension 0.50, SMELL: Male musk, FEEL: erection fighting clothes.
LAUGHS
Anything's possible.
LAP DISSOLVE to HAZLIK and girl making love on lawn.
(Avoid stock intercourse stimulus/response package. The important thing to get across is the idea that Hazlik is sexually potent yet emotionally empty.)
(Consider the following sequence merely as a guide to the director. Much, of course, depends on the individual actors' feeling for one anotherâStiffener © or no!)
STROBE ALTERNATION
GIRL: FEEL: soles of feet, buttocks, shoulder blades, back of head all on grassâgoing back and forth a couple of centimeters with each thrust; HAZLIK'S chest hair rubbing against breasts, hairy legs gently abrading inside thighs; slightly painful bumping contact between pubic bones, faces not in contact, his hands pressed against small of back. SMELL: Male musk under dope and wine. SOMATIC: Penis rigid inside vagina, active but controlled, very long thrusts alternating with short quick ones; her sexual response during minute of ALTERNATION before orgasm equals 0.50 + .006667t(sin{t/7.78), t in seconds. Then four orgasms, decreasing in intensity as they increase in painfulness, separated by 8, 6, and 4 secondsâ¦then SMELL: Female musk UP and add perspiration. FEEL: Pain from pubic bone contact UP on last two orgasms. SUBLIMINAL: Taste of blood HAZLIK: FEEL: Elbows to forearms on grass, sharing weight with knees. Fingertips move from buttock cleavage to lumbar dimples. Vagina is almost excessively moist; penis slipping forward and back with almost no resistance. Breasts moving regularly, deforming under his chest. Toenails digging into dirt. SMELL: Vaginal musk and perspiration, grass. TASTE: Aftertaste of good dope and brandy. SOMATIC: Constant male sexual tension 0.75 throughout preorgasm minute (distracted, enjoying stiffness of penis more than he is the loving). Slightly painful rhythmic contact between testicles and GIRL'S buttocks. Simultaneously with GIRL'S last orgasm, HAZLIK ejaculates without joy. SUBLIMINAL: Carrying heavy weight.
BOTH
: Stock SOUND of intercourse.
HAZLIK and GIRL remain joined for about thirty seconds, panting wordlessly after last orgasm. FADE OUT HAZLIK: FEEL, SMELL, SOMATIC. GIRL: FEEL: HAZLIK slipping out of her, she clasps legs over his body.
GIRL
You were very good.
HAZLIK
PATS SHOULDER AWKWARDLY AND SLIPS OUT OF HER
So were you, child.
GIRL
LITTLE VOICE
Don't you want to talk? Sit here a minute andâ¦maybeâ¦
HAZLIK
DRESSING, CHUCKLES
Not right now, noâ¦I'm host of this thing, remember? Have to get back and mix.
GIRL stretches out on her side, watching HAZLIK dress. FEEL: Grass prickling arm, head on arm, puddle of sweat trickles out of navel, stock postcoital stickiness and languor but SOMATIC: Female sexual tension 0.20 (vaguely unsatisfied). SUBLIMINAL: Female orgasm 0.05, feel of feathers stroking places that can't be reached.