The God Mars Book Five: Onryo (37 page)

The view cuts to other cameras that show me—us—the
framework of the Stormcloud’s hull. It’s bristling with what look
like bot guns, and there are dozens of Disc drones in launch
racks.

“Now, some of you already know I’ve been playing
around with making zombies, and how cool is that? I mean,
everybody
likes zombies. Well, maybe not when they’re real
and trying to eat your brains. Which they do, sort of, just really
really slowly. Anyway, just to keep with the classic meme, I built
them to infect by basically biting. But then it hit me: Maybe I
could take the little nanotech bugger that eats your brain and
turns you into a walking corpse for my amusement and stick it
inside a special bullet thingy and just shoot it at you, which
would be less sporting but much more efficient. So I did. And it
is. Now, I admit I haven’t converted
all
of these guns into
zombie-makers—most of them are just plain-old boring
dead-body-makers—but quite a few of them are. Well, some are. You
get to guess which ones. Or I could just make it clear if you—Yes,
I’m talking to
you
, old friend—or any of your Super Friends
decide to try to do anything silly. One hit on a fragile mortal,
even a minor wound, and fun shall ensue…”

Now we see what looks like a recording, viewed on
time-lapse: A soldier in a Eureka Keepers’ uniform—probably chosen
because they look like Unmakers—is seen in a cell. Screaming.
Panicking. Weeping. Convulsing. Trying to smash his skull open
against the steel bulkhead and clawing at his own eyes. Then he’s
standing still, bloodied and pale, face blank, milky eyes glowing
red from within. The only sound he makes is a raspy panting.

“It takes about three days,” Asmodeus explains
lightly, as if it’s nothing. “Oh, and FYI, only the Super Friends
and my little Brotherhood of Evil are immune, so we’ll be the only
ones left while the rest of you shuffle mindlessly until you rot
and fall apart. And that’s
really
gonna stink up the planet.
So maybe let’s not, okay?”

The view changes again, thankfully, but now it shows
Asmodeus himself, sitting in a chair in what I assume is the bridge
of his ship, slouching like he’s bored.

“Now, as for my demands… Well, actually, I don’t have
any thought up yet. I’ve been a little busy planning the party. I
suppose I could follow the precedent of my predecessor and tell all
you righteous high-gravity dickheads to pack up and fuck off back
home. But we haven’t had a proper chance to play yet. And this
really isn’t even about you.

“As I said, mostly I see you as a bunch of annoying
idiots, and that’s me being kind. The truth is, I’m really only
doing all of this to fuck with Mike Ram. He’s just
so
much
fun that way. If he wasn’t around… Well, I’d probably have to find
a way across space to visit the old homestead, then rape and
pillage my way across your theo-fascist wonderland. But, while I’ve
got your attention, I suppose I should demand
something
…”

He makes a show of exaggerated concentration, then
suddenly holds up a finger in mock decision.

“
Pussy!
” he announces with exaggerated cheer.
“I’ve always liked pussy! And just in case you theo-fascist prudes
don’t use that word properly anymore, what I’m talking about is
women
. To have sex with. These nano-buggers inside me keep
me hornier than a teenage boy no matter how much I get. So send me
a tribute of pretty young virgins—there’s a precedent for
seventy-two, I believe. That’ll be a nice start. Say, under
twenty-five Earth years and less than sixty kilos Earth weight?
Otherwise, I’m not picky. They can even be pretend virgins—I’m sure
you have
lots
of those. And I don’t even mind the religious
prudery. That’ll just make the screaming sweeter. I even promise to
upload video of the highlights so you don’t have to wonder what’s
become of them. You might even be able to make some money off of it
if you’re so inclined. Now don’t give me that look—I’m sure you
still have porn up there, no matter how much you pretend you’re
better than that in Mandatory Church. So start rounding up the
recruits! My current stable of fuck toys is getting pretty thinned
out. You mortals are such
fragile
things.”

He’s horrible, disgusting, and proud of it. Was he
like this when he was mortal, or is this what immortality did to
him? (I can’t help but flash on what Ram showed us of Kali’s erotic
tastes.)

But worse: He’s taunting them to attack him, like he
wants an excuse for bloodshed and mass destruction. Or maybe he
just enjoys rubbing our noses in how helpless he thinks we all
are.

“In the meantime, I’ll be happy to accept a few of
the local Malibu Barbies in exchange for not ruining their
marvelous architecture,” he won’t stop. “They’re a bit exotic for
my taste, but I expect they still have all the important bits. And
throw in one of those genetically modified cows, too. I’d
love
a good steak.”

Asmodeus disengages from the uplinks, but the last
thing I see is his camera zooming in on Ram, as if to enjoy his
helpless rage. But Ram’s rage doesn’t look like I expect. He looks
amazingly calm, almost content. I see his mouth curl into a
half-grin, like he’s thinking of something, something evil that he
knows will make him happy. He turns and vanishes into the forest.
Erickson, confused, follows him. Then the feed is gone.

A few seconds after that, a storm of encrypted
chatter floods the Unmaker channels as they race to discuss their
options.

I look down and realize Terina’s eyes are open. The
irises look like massive diamonds. If she was conscious, I realize,
she also would have heard the chatter.

She looks at me, expressionless, and then closes her
eyes again. She hugs her Companion a little tighter to her
breast.

Two more hours pass like years. There’s no chatter on
our own channels. I expect Ram’s keeping silence so Asmodeus can’t
hear us planning. That means it’ll have to be face-to-face. And
where?

All I can do in the meantime is watch the feed from
orbit, and Asmodeus hasn’t budged, hasn’t done anything more. Every
few minutes, I rearrange the desiccating flesh over Terina, trying
to shift the most resource-rich of what’s left closer to her,
scooping away the residual waste matter which promptly blows away
in the breeze coming across the slope.

Without any prior stirring or sound to serve as a
warning, Terina suddenly sits bolt-upright and starts screaming. I
reflexively jump back, but not too far. The scream starts like the
last one, like a broken device, but then quickly clears, smoothes,
becomes human. She tears at herself, throwing off the gore and
ripping away the remaining outer “skin”. Oblivious to my presence,
she throws herself forward, onto her hands and knees, and then uses
her weapon like a staff to lift herself to an unsteady stance.

She’s panting in panic, looking down at herself—her
new
self—in total terror.

“Terina!” I try to get her attention, showing her
empty hands. “Terina… It’s okay… You’re…”

“
What is this!?
” she cries, showing me her own
hands, one perpetually gripping her Companion. Her diamond eyes are
wide, pleading. “
What is this body?!
”

“It’s…” I have trouble knowing where to start. “It’s
what your DNA would have made you look like, if you grew up on
Earth. Just like my face.” I gesture to myself, as if that’s any
comfort.

She stares at me in a shivering mix of dumb shock,
paralyzing horror and insane disbelief. She looks like she could
explode from the inside.

“You were
dead
!” she sobs, but it sounds more
like rage. “They said you were dead!”

At least she’s distracted from her own condition.

“I was. Sort of. In the ship we found… There was an
immortal. Someone I knew. It was the same ship my parents came here
on. He… He healed me. Passed his tech on to me.”

I’m lying to spare her, not telling the whole truth
of it. She doesn’t need to hear that, not right now.

She’s not listening. Her diamond gaze has shifted,
past me, west. Home.

“I
heard
him… Asmodeus. His threats. His sick
demands.” She grips her Naginata in both hands now, eager to use
it. (I expect it’s just as eager to be used.)

“We need to
plan
,” I try to make her think.
“He’ll fire on your people. He could level your City with one shot
from his railgun. Or unleash his Harvester seeds.”

“Then we need to hit him hard and fast, destroy him
before he can use his weapons!” she insists through perfect white
gritted teeth, all rage. I wonder if this was what I was like, when
Peter unleashed me on Eureka.

“And that’s why we need to plan,” I focus her. “Where
he can’t hear us. How do you feel? Can you travel?”

She steps out of her “grave”, which looks a few
centimeters deeper now than the rut we put her down in. She kicks
the rest of the dead off of her. I notice she still wears the Forge
daggers on her belt, or maybe a facsimile thereof, just like the
rest of her clothes and ornamental armor. At least her radiation
levels are way down. She takes a few tentative steps. Her shorter,
more muscular legs have an odd spring, like she’s become lighter
despite the visibly added mass. I remember this, learning how to
move, being so much stronger, so much quicker.

“You’ll get used to it,” I reassure badly.

“What happened to me?” she asks, more calmly, looking
at her new weapon, her Companion.

“Radiation poisoning did a lot of tissue damage. It
took you time to heal.” Then I think to test her memory. “Do you
remember how you got here?”

“Like a dream…” she says absently, but she stares
northwest, back along the path she came. “People were coming.
Modded beings. I could feel them. I didn’t want them to stop me…”
She looks at me. “
You
. It was you.”

“And Erickson and Ram. As soon as your father
realized where you’d gone.”

“You dared the radiation?”

“And the water. But it was easier on us. Still, we’re
pretty poisoned. We need to stay away from the Normals for a little
while. Eat.”

“But you came for me?” She sounds surprised by
that.

“Of course I did. You’re a friend. A good
friend.”

She moves toward me, lowers her weapon. But I’m not
sure I like the way she’s looking at me now. I should, but not
now.

“Is that all I am to you? Friend?”

I can feel her trying to dig into my thoughts. Worse:
my feelings.

“Nothing else?”

She circles me like an assassin.

“Am I ugly to your eyes now?” a touch of rage comes
back. She spreads her arms as if to show me more of her new
body.

“No. And you weren’t before. You’ve always been
beautiful to me. I think you know that.”

I feel shaky, unsure, uncomfortable. But also
aroused. I don’t want to be. But then I realize: I can smell her. I
know that smell. Sex. Her sex.

“And what are
you
now? Just an armor suit? Or
are you still a man?” She’s daring me, taunting me. It’s not like
seduction, though. It’s like she’s picking a fight.

“I’m trying to
help
you,” I insist.

She stops. Looks ill. Frustrated. Shocked. Another
storm of emotions flashes across her face.

“What’s wrong with me? What’s
wrong
with
me?”

“The Modding plays with your emotions,” I guess.
“I’ve heard it can increase libido, arousal.”

She looks like she’s going to cry.

“I’m not like this,” she pleads. “This isn’t
me
.”

“I know,” I give poor comfort. “You get used to
it.”

“
I don’t want to get used to it!!
” she snaps.
But then she looks at the Companion in her hands. “But I
wanted
this. I risked my life…
destroyed
my life…
What am I?
”

“You are the First Daughter of the War King of
Katar,” I insist. “You serve your people. Your people need you.
That is what you are.”

I think I see her smile, calm for an instant in the
chaos of her heart and mind. She looks at me.

“And you? Do
you
serve my people?”

“I’m not leaving you.”

In a blur, she darts straight up to me, body-to-body,
and kisses me. Deeply. Hungrily. But it’s not like any kiss I’ve
had before. I feel myself being drawn into her, becoming part of
her, part of one machine, all power and electricity. The world
spins away.

She breaks contact, jumps back, both of us
breathless.

“That was… That…” She can’t find words.

“I…” Neither can I. I’m just hoping we can do it
again. Soon. But not now.

“We should go,” she says before I can, looking
west.

“We need to find the others,” I agree. But I can
barely make myself move.

As we hike, I help Terina suppress the signals that
her Companion is putting out, so Asmodeus won’t be able to track us
so easily.

“The Wizard…” she remembers. “I heard his Companion
as I came back across the Lake. I could feel him feeding. Feeding
on corpse-men he’d taken from those sent to Katar. He had found
Asmodeus, on the other side of the mountain, but was too weak to
confront him. He wanted to be stronger.”

“Why did you go after him?”

“In my need, I would kill living men, maybe the first
I found. It could not be Haven. Not Pax. Certainly not my own. So
Asmodeus would feed me. But the Wizard already had flesh. And he
was
weak.”

She shakes her head, like she’s trying to clear away
the memory, or her craving for protein regardless of the
source.

“We do what we need to, if the cause is right,” I
give poor absolution, our absolution, the absolution of the
Modded.