Only Superhuman (19 page)

Kari was nodding. “Kenji’s always liked to gloat over others, rub in his power. It was a nightmare being his kid sister. But—I mean, of course it’s not as bad as—”

“No,” Maryam said simply. “It is not.”

“I, I hope you weren’t too embarrassed,” Kari said, feeling self-conscious about her own exposure. “You know, you’ve … got nothing to be ashamed of. I’ve seen you in the shower.…” She trailed off, feeling stupid.

The quirk of Maryam’s eyebrow didn’t do much to ease that feeling. “Would it surprise you to know I’m very proud of my body?” Kari just stared. “Mm-hmm. That’s why I’m selective about whom I choose to share it with.”

Kari bristled. “And I’m a slut who gives it away?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to. You don’t hide as well as you like to think.”

Maryam frowned, seeming to come to a decision. “As I fled your brother, he called out to me. Said he had a message to deliver to you.”

Kari looked up, feeling a mix of anxiety and hope. “What was it?”

“He said that your family honor compelled you to carry out the contract on my life. That if you kill me, it will not save you from his sword, but at least it will help cleanse the stain you inflicted on the Koyama name.”

Kari blinked away tears. Then she ran back to the shower and turned it on without bothering to strip first, letting the tears blend with its streams.
Maybe I am dirty,
she thought.
Maybe it’s in my genes and I bring it with me.

After a time, she sensed a presence and saw Maryam standing there, watching. “I apologize, Hikari. I should not have been so cruel. I didn’t realize it would hit you so hard.”

“It’s not your fault,” Kari replied. “I just…” She wanted to ask Maryam,
Have you ever falsified evidence for the greater good? Was it worth it? Are you doing it now for the Troubleshooters, like I am? Is it just part of the job?

But if she asked, then Maryam might want to know why, and Kari was afraid where that might lead. If what she did were exposed, it would undo whatever good could come of it, and whatever good she could do in the future. Wouldn’t it?

“I’ll be okay,” she told Maryam. “Thank you.” She began to dry herself off and change clothes, hinting to Maryam that she could go. In the wake of her outburst, Kari was realizing she’d been a fool. Of course it wasn’t her fault what had happened to Hoenecker. She’d done the right thing, struck a blow against the mob. Most likely, once Hoenecker was no longer of use to them, the mob had decided to ensure his silence. He hadn’t really killed himself in shame.

So it wasn’t her fault at all. The blood was on the mob’s hands.

Not hers.

Not this time.

She just needed to keep believing that.

Vanguard

Psyche Thorne was truly a woman of all seasons. She could be a charming hostess, a skilled negotiator, and apparently an effective seductress, but she could also be just one of the girls, a fun person to hang around with. Emry knew there was a sales pitch going on, a kind of seduction; yet there was nothing necessarily deceptive about that. Anyone who wanted to build a relationship with someone else, whether personally or diplomatically, would do the same. Psyche simply did it exceptionally well.

“Okay, I admit it,” Psyche said as the two of them dined at an outdoor café. “I’m the whole package, body as well as mind. I’m designed to be good at relating to people. My father believes that’s the key to truly elevating humanity. We’ve made people smarter, made them stronger, let them live longer, but it’s only created more conflict, more danger. Because nothing we’ve done to enhance ourselves has addressed the root causes of our conflicts. What we need is to make people
better
. Better at understanding and connecting to one another, smarter at bridging their differences. Not just enhanced intelligence, but enhanced
social
intelligence. That’s what I’ve been designed for. Reading people, empathizing with them. Sensing what they need, what they value, and thereby knowing how best to open their minds. Sometimes that means being alluring, even seductive.”

“The pheromones help, I’m sure. And the oxytocin.”

Psyche showed no surprise or guilt, just a slight self-deprecating shrug. “Just normal ingredients in human bonding. Call them social lubricants.”

“They’re a way of affecting people subconsciously,” Emry countered. “Getting them to react a certain way without knowing why.”

“Pheromones aren’t magic, Emry. They don’t affect everyone the same way, and they don’t work over distance. You can’t just pour on more and get a stronger effect, since any scent becomes unpleasant in excess.

“And they’re just one part of a tapestry of human interaction that involves all the senses and the mind as well. Hormones are part of the chemical machinery of our brains, pheromones part of how we communicate. It’s all linked. Intellect, emotion, subconscious drives, physical impulses—they’re all facets of the same whole.

“Think about it, Emry. How easy is it to get people to listen to reason even when you have it on your side? Humans are creatures of instinct, of passion. Those drives have been built into us far longer than our capacity for reason has. So even the most sensible, beneficial points of view have always needed something more visceral to back them up. Sometimes it’s the personal charisma of an individual, like Gandhi or my father. Sometimes it’s an appeal to faith or nationalism or some collective drive. Sometimes it’s the fear of the alternative. And sometimes it’s seduction, even outright sex. Whatever it is, when it’s on the side of reason it helps promote it, and when it’s turned against reason it swamps it. So even those of us who want to promote reason and understanding still need an edge to help us sell it.

“That’s what I’m about. Connecting to people on every level. Understanding what drives them and knowing how to win their understanding in return.”

“Maybe. It still sounds like seduction to me.”

“Is that so bad? Seduction has been a part of politics for thousands of years. Xishi used her allure to distract the Prince of Wu, weaken his state and allow its overthrow. Hurrem effectively ruled the Ottoman Empire from her harem for decades. And I’m sure you know about Lysistrata.”

“I don’t know. Is that contagious?”

Psyche laughed. “Ideally, yes. Sexually transmitted disarmament. Anyway, the only reason history’s frowned on sex as a political tool is that men were writing the history and painting any source of female power as a negative. As though it were somehow nobler to get your way with a sword than with a kiss. I don’t think we should be bound by that anymore, do you?”

“To be honest,” Emry told her, “my mother said a lot of the same things. About how sexuality could be a source of positive power.”

“She was a wise woman. Physical affection improves mental health in general. It produces oxytocin, which enhances trust and social bonding, and it helps balance our neurotransmitters. The cultures that discourage touch and sexuality the most are, as a rule, the ones most prone to violence, bigotry, fanaticism, addictive behaviors, all sorts of pathologies. Children who are raised with regular affection grow up healthier, kinder, better adjusted than those who aren’t.

“So why shouldn’t the same principle apply to diplomacy and politics? Is it uncouth to use seduction as a diplomatic tool? Or is it irresponsible
not
to?”

Emry mulled it over. “I guess I see what you mean,” she said. “Back when I was running with the Freakshow, you know, we sometimes tried to help people we thought were getting treated unfairly. Or at least struck out at people we didn’t like.” Psyche nodded. “Well, once we ended up, don’t ask me how, on this habitat deep in the Outers, run by these ultra-Puritan fanatics, condemning the sins of the flesh and all that. They actually made it illegal for people to show physical affection to each other. Even in private—children were conceived artificially and it was a crime for a man and a woman to be alone together.”

Psyche’s eyes widened. “My God, that’s barbaric!”

“I know, that’s why we had to fight it. So my gang and I, we joined up with their criminal underground.”

“Really!”

“Yep. We became key players in a massive snuggling operation.”

After a second, Psyche laughed uproariously. It was a contagious laugh, and Emry joined her. Once she caught her breath, Psyche said, “Wow. Did they ever catch you?”

Emry silently thanked her for the perfect straight line. “Yeah, but they couldn’t hold us.”

*   *   *

After dinner, Psyche took her on a tour of Vanguard’s artistic scene, their theaters and art galleries. Emry was entranced by the virtuoso singing, the incredibly athletic dancing, the mind-twisting sculptures and soligram animations. This was an aspect of Vanguardian genes she hadn’t given much thought to. Her mother had been the artistic one.

Psyche then took her clothes-shopping, as promised. The stores contained various designer pieces they tried on in combination with more generic, programmable items that they tweaked to fit their whims. Psyche ended up choosing a coppery thong with a high, broad waistband and a midnight-blue off-the-shoulder cape fastened by a gold clasp above the sternum, covering the top halves of her breasts so long as she didn’t raise her arms. “For someone who’s all about the unity of mind and body, you sure do emphasize the body,” Emry teased, though she made no secret of admiring the view.

“Look who’s talking,” Psyche countered, admiring her view just as openly. Emry wore a vivid red half-dress that left the entire right side of her body bare, held on by van der Waals adhesion with only a g-clip under it. She’d chosen it as a way of hinting that her loyalties might be subconsciously divided. “Sure, if it were just the two of us sitting around at home eating ice cream, I’ve got my share of old broken-in t-shirts. But I’m treating you to a night on the town, and that means getting noticed.”

With their other clothes (including Emry’s uniform) in shopping bags, the two women headed for one of Psyche’s favorite nightclubs. It was fairly sedate compared to many Emry had been in. Vanguardians were a health-conscious people, not prone to abusing alcohol or other intoxicants. Still, they were clearly more than capable of relaxing their inhibitions without chemical help. The music was invigorating, the dancing athletic and sensual. The two women drew immediate attention, even though the tavern was full of beautiful people revealingly attired. Emry was flattered to find she drew as much attention as Psyche, though she assumed it was the novelty factor. But Psyche was still the life of the party, introducing Emry around and rallying the crowd to higher levels of activity. She seemed to know everyone here, as well as everyone they’d passed in the street, and she showed the same ability to tailor herself to their personalities and likes as she had with the delegates.

At the crowd’s urging, Psyche took the stage and sang “Love Is in Our Genes” in one of the most beautiful, captivating alto voices Emry had ever heard. Then she dragged Emry up with her and goaded her into singing along on “Solar Flare,” a song that Roche Limit’s lead singer had composed about Emry after their brief fling had ended amiably last December, and which had enjoyed a few weeks of infamy following Chakra City. Emry was less embarrassed by the song than by her merely adequate singing next to Psyche’s award-worthy skill, but Psyche offered only encouragement and praise. If anything, following Psyche’s lead seemed to bring out the best in her own voice.

Then came the dancing, and there was no shortage of intriguing partners competing for their attention. The dances were raw, sensual, tactile, a good audition for what would follow. Attuned with the emotions of the crowd, or perhaps driving them, Psyche became pure sex, her lissome, leggy body moving with the athletic, aggressive eroticism of a stripper. The way she writhed against her various dance partners, Emry half-expected an orgy to break out right there. But eventually, Psyche picked her two favorites of the available men and invited Emry to do the same. Once Emry picked out two burly specimens strong enough to take her on (and made sure they weren’t related to her), the six of them retired to Psyche’s penthouse apartment.

Psyche had chosen sleeker partners, not Emry’s usual cup of tea, but Emry took turns with all four men as Psyche did, and found them all satisfyingly skilled. However, Psyche’s pair ran out of energy well before she did, so once they’d succumbed to sleep, Psyche joined Emry in getting the most out of the two big ones. But eventually, the women were the only ones still conscious, though Emry herself was pretty well drained. She didn’t know how Psyche kept up her energy. “Aww. We ran out of men,” the leggy blonde moaned as she and Emry lay side by side, draped across their partners’ naked bodies.

Emry reached back and fluffed up the butt she was using as a pillow. “Where do we call to order some more?”

The other woman smiled. “That’s not what you need, Emry.”

“Hey, I’ll be the judge of—”

Psyche rolled over, took Emry’s head in her hands, and gave her a deep, passionate kiss. When it finally ended, Psyche said, “You seek out casual, empty sex because you feel the men you’ve loved have abandoned you. You’re afraid of being hurt, so you isolate yourself emotionally from men. Maybe a woman can help ease your loneliness.” Their lips met again.

Emry was breathless when it ended. “Psyche … that’s a sweet offer, and you’re gorgeous as hell, and … oh, Goddess, I think that’s the two best kisses I ever had. But … well, not a lot of women are strong enough to handle me.”

Psyche regarded her with a wry tilt to her head. “I’m a Vanguardian too, Emry. Believe me…” She clenched Emry’s upper arms and squeezed them tightly, hard enough to hurt. “I’m a lot tougher than I look.” Pinning Emry’s sweaty body beneath her own, she kissed her again, hard and rough this time.

Suddenly Emry felt reinvigorated. She broke Psyche’s grip and wrestled with her until they both fell to the floor, giggling. Psyche yelped as Emry landed atop her, pinning her shoulders and sitting on her thighs. Laughing, Psyche clutched Emry’s muscular ass and pulled her forward, kissing her with a different pair of lips. “Psyche!” Emry cried. “Come on, I’ve fantasized about being naked with your father!”