War Games (16 page)

She looked up anyway. Her eyes focused in my direction for an instant, then she turned away. I wondered if she recognized me. She could not have—I’d been twelve the last time she saw me. Since then I’d had cybersurgery, hybridization, and cosmetic surgery. I hardly resembled the lad she knew. Now I was just another spectator. Soon I would just be another player.

Her handler placed a cape over her shoulders and led her away. I stared at the doorway after they had gone. I pushed down feelings that tried to surface. I didn’t need feelings. Cold thought was required now. Grychn’s presence complicated my plans a little. The spooks still might find her, even though she was Underground. If they did, Kramr would find out more about me from her. He already knew or suspected too much. I tried to remember if I’d told her about Nels. I couldn’t be sure I hadn’t. I knew what I should do. I could make it short and simple. Get rid of the handler as well. I still knew how to do things like that. There were twenty-three ways to do it unarmed. It might come to that eventually. But now I didn’t have the stomach for it. Some Emperor I’d make—too spineless to get rid of a complication. Then a disturbing thought came to me—what if Grychn’s body was no longer inhabited by her mind? She might have performed a body switch to escape the spooks. I would have to find, out about that. If that was the case, things would be considerably simpler.

But I was going to have to find Nels as soon as possible.

Dogs, I hated complications.

“Have you made up your mind yet?” Jain asked.

I looked down. A new game was about to start. “Let’s go,” I said. “I’ve seen enough already.”

She shrugged. “Whatever you say. I’ve certainly seen enough dreamgames. ‘”

We left.

* * *

On the way home, I started peptide withdrawal. I got sick to my stomach and a chill ran up my back. We were in Jain’s skimmer. We should be home in a few minutes.

Elf-fire flared overhead, as the nightly bombardment resumed. Some kind of celebration was taking place in the streets. Mnemone fumes rose like wisps of fog. Crowds of people sang and danced. As detonations boomed against the force-field above, the crowd surged back and forth. I realized they were dancing to the beat of pulsar barrages overhead. Clothes were flung to the street. Naked bodies coupled on their feet. Pelvic thrusts were synchronized to artillery detonations.

Jain saw me staring. “A new cult,” she said, nodding toward the crowd. “Ghost dancers, they call themselves. They dance each night, awaiting the collapse of the forcefield. It’s become quite fashionable. Several times I’ve been tempted to try it.” She laughed.

“But you have me instead.”

“Yes, I have you.” She smiled.

I closed my eyes. My intestines were knotted with cramps. My nose ran; I blew it into my fingers. Sweat beaded on my forehead. Before long the wet-dog shakes would begin. No addiction was stronger than peptide dependence, because no withdrawal was harder. I clenched my teeth together and closed my fists tightly. My guts felt like rats were chewing their way out.

It seemed like years before we got home. I had to walk bent over double from the cramps. I staggered into the house and fell down on a floor cushion. Jain strolled in and began to get undressed leisurely. I wasn’t going to beg her. I hadn’t reached that stage yet. I’d die first.

She unclasped her cape and hung it from a chair. Then she took off her skirt and carefully folded it, before placing it on top of the cape. She sat on another cushion, facing me, with her legs spread wide. A labial ring glinted beneath black pubic hair. Her diamond vial swung around her breasts. She slowly unwound her sandals’ gaiters from around shapely calves.

Rats were digging for cheese inside my belly. I stood neck deep in ice water while a fiend worked a blowtorch across my face. I clenched my teeth to keep them from chattering—and to keep the vomit down my throat. I had the urge to kill her, and not for the first time. I could have done so easily, as sick as I was, in any of twenty-three different ways. I had enough strength for that. But I resisted the temptation. I still needed Jain Maure—not for the peptide to make me well, I could have obtained that myself, although I let her think otherwise—I needed her to be my handler and to take care of me while I was mindriding, That was something you couldn’t do alone. Once I found Nels, Jain would be expendable. I flashed into a brief fantasy about what I’d do to her then. As sick as I was, it amused me.

She finished with her gaiters and removed her sandals. She smoothed away the marks the straps had left in the skin of her calves, while wiggling her toes. I pulled my knees tight against my chest. In a few more minutes, I’d start shaking. I hoped that by then the rats would have chewed their way out.

Jain looked up and pretended to notice me for the first time. “Poor baby!” she said with mock concern. “You’re sick! Why didn’t you say something?”

I couldn’t say anything now. If I relaxed my throat, I’d start projectile vomiting.

She came over and kneeled beside me. “Poor baby! Let Mama help.” She unscrewed the lid of her diamond vial and stuck her tongue into it. Light caught in her eyes in garnet shatterings. She leaned over to touch her tongue to my head. Peptide warmth flowed into my skull. Rats ran away and hid. My throat relaxed. I lay back, letting the warmth seep into bone and muscle. Jain removed my clothes. She ran her hands over my body, kneading the cramps out of my muscles. She felt my groin. There was nothing to feel. Penis and scrotum had pulled into their protective pouch during withdrawal. They always retreated there for safekeeping.

She bit my earlobe and whispered: “Let it down.”

I relaxed my cremaster muscle. Why not? I would have sooner or later. My penis slid out. Jain stroked it, but it stayed limp. The old images still danced in my brain. She placed her lips over it and stiffened it with strokes of her tongue. Images faded away.

She kneeled over me. We coupled. She undulated her ass up and down. I cupped her buttocks, digging my fingers into her flesh.

An elf barrage started overhead.

Jain’s face was caught in stop-motion by pulsar detonations: her eyes held vermillion fire, broad cheekbones cast shadows to the corners of her mouth, nostrils flared wide, a flush rose from her neck. Her hair danced crazily in the air.

“Did you know Number Five?” she asked suddenly.

“Who?” But I’d heard.

“The mindrider we bet on tonight. You looked at her as though you once knew her.”

“She resembled someone I used to know.”

“Forget about her. You’re mine now. All mine. To play with as I wish. I made you pretty just for me.” She dipped her tongue in another vial, then leaned forward. Her breasts brushed my face. I took a nipple into my mouth. I felt the wetness of her tongue on my head again. This time sex steroid set my brain quivering. I almost bit her nipple off. My fingers dug deeper into her flesh. ‘

“Yes, yes!” she said. “Be rough. Make it hurt. I want a demon tonight.”

Elf-fire played across the sky, probing for weaknesses in Chronus’s defenses. The force-field yielded briefly nearby; a single pulsar beam stabbed down to set trees on fire, before the breach was sealed. For an hour the elven batteries concentrated on that area, encouraged by their transient success. The detonations were deafening. The light flashes were blinding. But both palled compared to the fire that burned inside my head. Lightning crashed along my nerves, as I was overcome by a testosterone storm.

I scratched and clawed. I bit. My thrusts lifted us both into the air as my pelvis crashed into her. Flesh bruised beneath mine. Blood trickled between us.

“Oh, yes!” Jain screamed. “Make it hurt.”

The fire was a long time dying.

THE SCREAM
of
hawks had awakened me that morning.

Except for them, I was alone. They wheeled in the air outside, waiting for breakfast.

I stood on the balcony naked, throwing the hawks their scraps of meat. If only they could land on my belly and pluck out the rats that skulked within. But they had no interest in imaginary rats.

After feeding the hawks, I stayed inside the rest of the day. I had nowhere to go. My bridges were burned. I thought of Grychn, living the depraved life of a mindrider. Somewhat out of character for the Grychn I’d known. She must have traded bodies. I wondered if she’d escaped after the body switch. She must have. But even one dose of neuropeptide applied directly to the brain was enough to produce an addiction almost impossible to run away from. But she must have escaped. Kramr would have come after me by now if he knew what was in her dreams. But it was possible she hadn’t switched bodies. If that was the case, the spooks should have located her by now. Unless they had trouble penetrating the Underground. But they would send down a chameleon eventually. Then they’d find Grychn, if she was still in her body. Too many ifs. My thoughts were poor company, indeed.

Jain Maure came home early. She insisted on making love before we went to the mindcasino. The euphemism wasn’t the proper term tor what we did. She said we had to keep my tolerance for peptide high—that was the best way to make sure I’d be in control of the dreamgame. I went along with her—what other choice did I have? I don’t remember all that I did to her, and I don’t care to. Eventually she was satisfied.

Then we went to the Underground.

Elf-fire already blazed overhead. The entire dome glowed with absorbed energy. Rows of discrete flashes walked across the sky as barrage after barrage came from coordinated pulsar cannon. Occasionally the field would weaken and a pulsar quantum stabbed down to implode in the city itself. Fire sirens wailed. Emergency hoverbuses raced back and forth overhead. Chronus was dying that night. I knew then that the rescue fleet would arrive too late—even if the siege was lifted tomorrow, our salvation would come too late.

Ghost dancers already danced to the beat of elven artillery. Their naked bodies surged with each wave of bombardment. We had to force our way through a crowd of them to get to the portal to the Underground. Fingers plucked at my clothing. Their chanting beat into my mind with primeval intensity. Naked flesh pressed against me, hot and sweaty. Bare breasts bounced close to my face as dancers leaped. I had the urge to strip off my clothes and join their ritual.

But I had my own passion. When the end came, I wanted to be in a position to assume control. For that, I needed a timestone.

Jain and I finally reached the portal and entered it. We began our descent. We again traced a roundabout route to the casino chamber. I let her lead me. I could have found the way myself. But there was no sense letting her know that.

In a corridor outside the chamber, we paused. I peeled off my body stocking and hung it from a hook. Jain smiled. “You look splendid,” she said. I did indeed. She’d done a good job on my surgery. And she was the one bruised and bleeding from our sex play.

We entered the chamber via the players’ door. Ten couches were occupied. One waited for me. I glanced at the other players’ faces—I did not see Grychn. Not that it mattered. Her mind was most likely elsewhere. I briefiy wondered what Nels would look like. He could be any one of the players. The only way I could find out was to play the dreamgame. I lay down. Jain fitted my helmet to my head. Cold plastic probes plugged my ears, pressing tight against bone. Something snapped onto my CNS stud. Jain leaned over to kiss my lips. I closed my eyes.

A thousand needles pricked my scalp. My head started itching. I tried to scratch and found I couldn’t. Nor could I move any other muscle. I couldn’t even open my eyes. Then I began to get numb, starting at my toes and flowing upward. I seemed to float. The faint light that diffused through my eyelids dimmed to total darkness. Sound quieted to absolute silence. Cold and warmth became as one. I no longer smelled my own sour sweat. The bitter taste of fear was gone, replaced by nothing. All sensation disappeared—I was a detached sentience, suspended in an infinite void. Terror formed like a cancer growing. I almost went mad from the fear of sensory deprivation.

Then I was a combrid again. War had never gone away. Its grim familiarity was comforting, except for my predicament.

I lay hidden in a jumble of crystal foliage. I was alone—the rest of the patrol was blown away. Their bodies lay nearby. Elves had ambushed us with mortar fire. Before long, they’d come in person to finish the job. There wasn’t much I could do to stop them—my legs were blown off. All that was left of them were two stumps. Combat armor had sealed itself and the wounds. I wasn’t going to bleed to death. But my mobility was somewhat impaired. (Somewhere, I knew this was a dream, just part of a game. But even a dream was better than the isolation of total sensory deprivation.)

I had to do something. I crawled out of my concealment, pulling myself along with my arms. My stumps dragged uselessly behind. I began checking my buddies: they were all dead, from first shirt to PFC. The comman’s pack looked intact. I removed his longcom transceiver and snapped it into my battle pack. Maybe I could call the cavalry to the rescue. Ha, ha. Not very funny. We were the cavalry. But I was wounded. Give me a break. I filled my ammo pouches with clips scavenged from the others. Wouldn’t do them much good. Might not do me any good, either.

A pulsar beam exploded next to me, I rolled behind a log, turning my sensors to max gain at the same time.

Across the clearing I could see an elf platoon advancing. There were about ten of them. I had to get the L.A. out. I couldn’t walk. I couldn’t crawl fast enough to matter. That left me one other choice. I pulled myself up with my arms until I tottered on my stumps. Then I kicked on my thrusters. I shot up into the air. More pulsar fire greeted me. I put in a little lateral thrust and entered the forest. Thrusters weren’t much good among trees. If you tried to go faster than the minimum, you risked hitting a tree and breaking your neck. Also, one’s legs normally helped steer. I’d lost my rudder. But I had to use thrusters. I didn’t have much choice.

I nudged a flicker of acceleration from them, moving ahead slowly through the trees. I didn’t want to go too fast. I couldn’t steer at all. When I came to a tree, I caught it and pushed myself aside with my arms. I was making some progress, but not much. The catsucking elves would catch me for sure. They could fly a lot faster than me. I needed a little help.

I put out a distress call, giving my approximate coordinates. Base acknowledged my call and said they’d dispatched a gunship. Hooray. All I had to do was to stay ahead of the elves until it got here. That was going to cut it pretty close.

It did. When I finally heard the whine of a gunship overhead, I could see the elves behind me, moving in. Pulsar beams ricocheted from crystal foliage. But a moving target was hard to hit. Especially if you were moving at the same time.

“Hey, flyboy. What kept you?”

“Thaaat yooou, little buuuddie?” The pilot’s speech was distorted by resonation from his gravturbines. “Wheeere are yooou?”

I flipped on my transponder. The gunship whined past. “I gooot a fiiix nooow. Yooou waaant sooome ooordnance ooon the grooound?”

“I sure do. Give me all you’ve got.” The elves were getting too close for comfort. “You need a marker?”

“Yooou bet.”

I launched a smoke. The grenade popped above the elves, sending red laser smoke up through the trees. “Blood marks the spot.”

“Maaax is hooot. Maaax is rooolling. Cooome to saaave his little buuuddie.”

The gunship rolled overhead and came in skimming the treetops. I stopped to watch. Pulsar beams fanned down, cutting a hundred-meter-wide swath. Trees exploded into crystalline shards. Leaves puffed into vapor. Elves fell to ground smoking. All but one. Nine out of ten wasn’t bad. But somehow the gunship’s pulsar’s missed one. He glided in a clearing that hadn’t been there a moment before. He seemed as slow as a fat butterfly. I couldn’t miss, I squeezed off a burst of pulsar fire. I didn’t miss. The elf crumpled and fell.

“Gooood shooooting,” the pilot said. “Hooold tight. I’ll seeend dooown a rooope.”

The gunship couldn’t land in triple-canopy forest. It hovered overhead. A cable and snap was lowered. All I had to do was attach the snap to a hook on my pack and I would be hauled up to the gunship.

But something was wrong. My vision blurred. I felt dizzy. I looked down. Blood was spurting from both stumps. My wounds had opened. My armor’s autotourniquet hadn’t been designed to take the stress of so much movement. You were supposed to stay still when you were wounded.

The cable was beside me. The snap banged against my helmet. All I had to do was hook it to my pack. But I couldn’t see it clearly. Every time I reached, it moved out of the way. My vision narrowed as though I was peering through pinholes. I lost control of my thrusters. I began to fall. I never knew if I hit the ground.

Jain Maure removed my helmet and helped me sit. I felt groggy. We left the chamber; she put her arm around me to support me. As I got dressed in the outer corridor, I said: “Sorry about that. I’ll do better next time.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I got myself killed in the mindgame. Kind of botched the game for you.”

“You did splendidly. You won. And against ten-to-one odds.”

“I’m certain that I died. If anybody won, it would have been the gunship pilot. He was the only one left.”

“You didn’t count right. There were ten elves, you, as a combrid, and the pilot. That makes twelve players. One too many. You were also the pilot. You split your mind into two players—one was sacrificed so the other could win. No one has tried that tactic before. You played a masterful game—I knew you had good instincts. We’re going to win a lot of money, you and me.”

On the way back to Jain’s house, I realized that I had no idea if Nels had been in the game. I’d killed the other players without knowing their identities. If I was going to find him, I was going to have to change my tactics. After I found him, he was going to have to be made to talk. I mulled over the problem. There had to be some kind of strategy, some way to manipulate the game for my purposes.

Peptide withdrawal started before I could figure out a solution. My habit was too massive for the small doses I’d received during the game to block withdrawal. Chills, sweats, and nausea kept me from thinking about much else until we arrived home.

* * *

Jain wanted to play another kind of game that night: she administered me endophetamine laced with sex steroid.

* * *

The initial rush of testosterone had subsided; the preliminaries were over. Our sex game had been almost as much fun as when I’d been a combrid. A firefight still jazzed up the old endocrines. Blood lust made the other kind that much better.

Now the fun was over.

Endophetamine glowed in my brain, waxing ever stronger. The simple sexuality of androgen steroid began to warp—my thoughts started raveling with an emerging psychosis.

I lay naked on wombskin with Jain Maure. Red teeth marks faded from her skin; the flush in her face ebbed. In elf-light, her eyes brightened. She smiled, showing her teeth. They still gleamed blue.

“Why do you smile?” I asked.

“From thinking about my splendid new player. And games to come.”

“Games to come?”

“We’ve just started on the cycle. You’re a good player. You’ll last a long time. Father would approve of my selection.”

I remembered a question I’d never asked. “Why did you choose me to be a mindrider?”

She hesitated. “Promise you won’t tell?” She giggled. “No, I guess you won’t. I wanted you because your brain is still a combrid’s brain—its vitalium cyberwires augment the filaments of a cerebral helmet. And I had access to your medical files. Your mind has some unique qualities, not quite identified nor defined by the standard tests. They almost put you in the Pathic Division, before deciding it would be too difficult to get those latent abilities to blossom. They weren’t sure what your latent abilities were, so they didn’t want to take a chance by stimulating them. Psychesurgeons can be fuddy-duddies sometimes.”

“But you know what they are?”

“No. But I’m willing to take a chance. I know you can apply more mental energy than an ordinary mindrider. Any combrid can do that. You can shape a dreamgame to a pattern of your choosing, one where you’ll have the advantage. And you’ll be able to do other things as you gain experience. Already you split into two personas—nobody has done that before. You’ll become a master of the dreamgame—a champion mindrider. I was lucky to find you. Most discharged combrids have some brain damage. You’ll do much better than they did.” She ran a fingernail over my belly, cutting patterns in the skin.

The craziness I’d been holding back grew in my mind. Control began slipping.

“How did you happen to come to Chronus?” I asked, trying to clear my thoughts with banality. I would not be lucid much longer.