War Games (12 page)

A BATTLE GONG
beat
its persistent song.

Combrids ran across the commons to their waiting buses. Wisps of mist wafted against the force-field, dissipating when they touched it. Dawn glowed weakly on the horizon.

I shouldered my battle pack and joined the ragged lines of running combrids. I felt a hand touch mine. Vichsn ran beside me. She said something, but as we did not yet have our helmets on, it was lost to the commotion.

We boarded our hoverbus and she sat beside me. Peppardine was already sitting in the medic’s seat at the front of the bus. I felt her eyes staring at Vichsn and me. Soon forests of glass passed silently below us.

Vichsn brought her mouth close to my ear. “Did she tell you about it?” she asked, speaking through barely parted lips.

“About what?”

“Did she tell you about how she killed her old man? You need to do that to qualify for X-M-R.” She giggled. “And then you don’t have a choice. That or the cyborg factories.”

“You’re jealous.”

“I am not.” She pretended to pout. She soon tired of that game though, and tried another. She put her hand on my leg and stroked it through combat armor. Tactile sensations were conducted quite well through the polymer fabric. She knew that. She let her hand roam higher. I looked up to see if Peppardine was watching; her eyes were hidden behind a lowered helmet visor. Vichsn whispered in my ear again. “What are they like?”

“What?”

“The chimera’s peptides.”

“Would you like to try them?”

“Does she swing both ways?” Her eyes opened wide in mock surprise. “Seems a little straight to me. If you know what I mean? A Lady and all. Can I join you tonight?”

“Oh, before then.” I smiled slyly.

“What do you mean?”

“Get yourself wounded.” I laughed at my little joke.

Vichsn pretended to pout again.

* * *

We were going on another routine mission. The spooks thought they’d located an elf munitions plant. They were wrong.

We spent all morning combing a thousand hectares of forest. We didn’t find any sign of a factory. And we hadn’t blundered into an elf trap either, for a change.

Vichsn and I rested, sitting together beneath a tree. “You are jealous of Peppardine,” I said.

“You mean Sergeant Pepper.”

“Where did you hear that name?”

“Everyone knows it. Why?”

“Nothing.” I looked away.

“Does it bother you that I know her name? And how she came by it?” She nudged my foot with hers.

“Of course not. Don’t be silly.”

“What kind of stories did she tell you to get you into the sack?”

“The usual.” I smiled. Very usual for a Lady of Telluride.

“I guess I’m not good enough for you now.” She looked away, “I mean, a Lady and all. How can a simple, plain thing like me have a chance against the charms of a Lady. I was just temporary, wasn’t I? Good enough until something better came along.”

“If you say so.”

“Just a whore to play with. Is that all I mean to you? Just someplace to get your rocks off in, then throw away like a dirty sock.”

“If you say so.” I wasn’t really enjoying this game. But it had to be played. I’d told her too much. Most of what I’d said had been lies. But some was true. She’d believed the lies. That was the trouble. I tried to remember what all I’d told her. It was hard to keep the stories straight. I’d been living lies for years. The hardest part was remembering to be consistent. But if she believed the lies, she’d remember the true parts also.

“Well, you can’t get rid of me that easily. You’re going to have to take me with you, when you go. If you don’t, I’ll tell the spooks everything. I’ll tell them to look for you in the mindcasinos of Chronus. I’ll tell them all about a miner who is a mindrider now. What was his name? Nels. Shouldn’t be too hard for the spooks to find if they know who to look for.” She spat through her oxygen bubble. The spittle froze solid before it hit the ground. “I’ve got too much time and feeling invested in you to give up now. Do you think I want to die a combrid? I want my share of the little empire you’re going to establish.”

“It could be like that,” I lied.

“And now she has to come along and try to steal you away from me. Rather be with your own kind, wouldn’t you? Forget about her. I’m the one going with you. Or I’ll make big trouble.” She flipped down her visor, hiding her face behind its mirrored surface.

I said nothing.

After a few minutes she said: “I’m sorry for the outburst. I’m just being silly, aren’t I?”

We heard the hoverbus siren wailing. It was time to leave. The spooks had tired of Hide and Seek.

I didn’t answer Vichsn. But yes, she was being silly.

I followed her through the forest toward the clearing where the bus was picking up our platoon. She must have been preoccupied. Or maybe she thought we had to hurry to keep from being left behind by a nervous pilot. For whatever reason, she was moving too fast.

I should have said something. But I didn’t.

Vichsn continued to walk down the trail.

The olfactometer in my helmet began screaming in my ear. A red star glowed on my sonarscope.

I almost yelled at Vichsn. But I didn’t. And it wouldn’t have made any difference if I had.

An explosion shook the forest. Concussion waves bounced from tree trunks, setting them humming with resonation. A burst of light flashed, turning crystalline leaves too dazzling to watch.

I ran ahead. My own sonic field must have triggered the mine, just as it was supposed to, before I got in range. Vichsn must not have had her field on, so she was caught within the detonation field. She was pretty banged up, despite the protection of combat armor. I kneeled beside her and flipped up her visor. She opened her eyes and tried to smile. Her lips moved in silent whispers.

Shards of broken leaves drifted around us, still glowing with trapped light. For a moment, I was sorry. This had happened sooner than I had expected. But now there were other moves to be played.

“Corpsman!” I yelled.

Then waited.

* * *

The chimera’s fingers had done their magic.

Vichsn rested comfortably on a stretcher in the front of the hoverbus. She was still in armor; it acted as external splints for broken bones. Apparently she had a few of those.

She had tried to speak to me once more before Peppardine had come, but I couldn’t understand the words. All that came over the encephalowave was pain. But there was something in her eyes I wished I hadn’t seen.

I stood beside her and held her hand. Her eyes stayed closed. If she moaned with pain, the chimera touched a finger to her arm; a claw found a vein and endorphine soothed the hurting.

We were almost back to base when it happened.

I noticed something was different. For a moment, I couldn’t figure out what it was. Then it came to me. Vichsn had been making raspy breathing noises. Now she was silent.

“Peppardine!” I yelled. “She’s dying.”

The chimera quickly came over and felt Vichsn’s neck for pulsations. She must have found none, because she then detached Vichsn’s carapace, exposing her bare chest. Peppardine placed one hand between Vichsn’s breasts and put the other below the left breast.

“Clear!” she said firmly.

I made sure I wasn’t touching the cot.

Blue electricity arced from between the chimera’s fingers. Vichsn writhed in a quick convulsion.

There was no need to feel her neck this time. The chimera’s hands were sensitive enough to feel the beating of a heart. Or the worm wriggles of fibrillation. Or the quiet of cardiac standstill.

A claw extended from Peppardine’s left index finger, curving at least six centimeters long. She thrust the claw like a sword beneath Vichsn’s breastbone, angling toward her left shoulder. I saw bright red blood fill the hollow claw as it penetrated the chambers of Vichsn’s heart. Then the red was pushed back into the heart by the blue of neuropeptide. The claw was withdrawn.

The chimera again placed her hands where palm prints had already been blistered into the skin. Again electric fire flared. Again Vichsn convulsed. Again no heartbeat was produced. It was a dramatic show. And no more than that.

Peppardine looked at me. “There’s no more that can be done,” she said. “Sergeant Pepper can do no more.” She reached out to close Vichsn’s eyes, “Her pain is gone. She didn’t have to cry. No tears come from her blue eyes. I can do no more for her.”

And she was right. But I knew that before. That was the next move. As Vichsn’s hand cooled in mine, I had already known a chimera was incapable of reversing an overdose of her own endorphine.

* * *

I sat alone at a table at the back of the club. The room was as dark as my thoughts. Near the far wall, a bright cone of light illuminated the green felt of a gaming table. Players sat around the table: only their hands were visible, toying with stacks of chips or fingering their poker crystals; their faces were bidden in shadow. I heard snatches of friendly banter coming from the table. The game had not become serious yet.

Normally, I would have been playing, too. But not tonight. I’d not insulated myself from Vichsn as well as I thought I had. Her death bothered me more than I cared to admit. And something else was wrong. I should have been on the run already. Nothing was holding me back now. The last loose end had been snipped. I still had the keys to a skimmer. I had travel orders—I only needed to fill in the date. Nels waited for me in the mindcasinos of Chronus. For some reason, I was staying. Some vague discomfort kept me from running. There’d be time enough tomorrow.

So I contented myself with the acrid company of mnemone fumes.

Someone stood beside my table. Her eyebrows glowed in darkness like inverted smiles. I nodded for her to join me. I knew she could see clearly through the shadows. We knew who we were.

I offered her a mnemone stick. She refused. So I sucked its vapors deep into my lungs. There was a hurting somewhere that wouldn’t go away. Mnemone only pushed it deeper, where it hurt more.

Peppardine sat across from me, saying nothing. Her eyes were flawed emeralds beneath smoldering eyebrows. Teeth shone with blue saliva. She appositioned her fingertips. Sharp claws peeked out. I knew what I needed, what was wrong with me. I knew what would make the hurting go away.

I threw away my last mnemone stick.

* * *

In the dark, she moved against me. Her skin was slick with monomer sweat. She reached out and pulled me closer; her nipples pressed into my chest; her legs locked around mine. Lips nuzzled along my neck, then teeth nipped skin.

I whispered in her ear, hoping her sleeping mind would be open to suggestion: “You’re the only one now. Only you can help. I hurt deep inside. Only you can make it stop hurting. Chase away my ice with your fire.” I sobbed quietly in her ear.

She muttered in her sleep: “Don’t cry, little man. Please don’t cry.”

Claws pricked, leaving tracks of blood across my back. Peptide warmth pushed away the cold, then became a fire raging inside. My head found its way between her legs; my teeth drew blood from tender flesh. She moaned, but did not awaken.

* * *

She leaped out of bed, waking me. She stood near the window, silhouetted by dawn light. Fog swirled outside. She seemed confused, disoriented. She looked about wildly. But after a few minutes the craziness left her eyes. She came back to bed and lay on the wombskin beside me and stared at the ceiling.

“Another dream?” I asked.

“I thought I heard him crying,” she said. “I had to go to him, to make him be quiet. My man used to get mad if the baby cried.” She looked at me. “But that was a long time ago. Why do I still hear him cry?”

“What happened?”

“To the baby?” She purposely misunderstood my question. “He died. That’s all. Nothing more. He just died one day.” She shivered. “Babies die all the time. But why do I still hear him cry? I tried to keep him quiet.”

“And your man? What happened to him?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“I might. You see, I’m an orphan, myself.”

“What do you know of the rages of nobility? We’re not like common folk. We feel different passions.” She paused. “But I’m not a Lady anymore. They told me to forget all that. And I tried. Why won’t my dreams let me forget?”

Sunlight waxed stronger, but was still pale compared to the sunlight of Earth. And darkness was deeper there. I saw a jeweled knife hilt protruding from his chest. But he’d been cut many times before the final thrust. You could see that even in the holos. I wondered what final act of cruelty had driven her to such frenzy. Yes, I understood the rages of nobility. One game ended. Another began.

The mists of morning rose.

WE DIDN’T GO
on
any routine missions that morning. No hoverbuses left the base. The only daily order was that we were to maintain ourselves on combat alert.

That made us a little nervous.

High Command always planned some kind of routine missions; they tried to keep us too busy to think too much. So maybe something big was coming down, and they were holding us back in anticipation of needing us later. There was only one thing worse than routine missions—real ones. A fella could get himself killed.

Combrids loitered about, talking together in small groups. Rumors circulated like oxide fire jumping among treetops.

I had decided to make my move that night. If I didn’t get away now, I’d never be able to run. There was no addiction worse than peptide. The more I saw of the chimera, the harder it would be to leave her blue joy. Even now, I would have to suffer mild withdrawal pain. Nothing intolerable. Not yet. But if I kept taking her peptides, tolerance would develop and my habit increase, until withdrawal would be likely to kill me. Then I could never get away. So I had to go now.

Everything was ready. My money hoard had been deposited in a numbered account with the Bank of Chronus. A skimmer was gassed and oiled. Forged orders were ready to be dated. Vichsn was dead and burned—no ghost arisen from her ashes would betray me. Haunt me, maybe. But not betray me to the spooks. I only had to wait for the cover of darkness.

I just wished I could quit feeling bad about Vichsn. There was no other way. I didn’t have room for excess baggage. Besides, she had it coming.

In the noncom club, a poker game formed. I watched for a bit, not really interested in playing. That’s how depressed I was. But with nothing better to do, and tired of listening to idle rumors, I decided to play. I had trouble getting into the flow of play though; it didn’t seem to matter. I played cautiously, not bluffing, folding if I didn’t have the cards. And I didn’t have the cards very often.

Peppardine came into the club. She sat alone next to the wall and watched us play. I had to force myself to not stare at her fingers. Already I began to feel a little uneasy; sweat beaded on my back. Had peptide withdrawal started already?

Morning drifted into afternoon. Mnemone fumes wafted lazily in the air. There were rumors that a big elven offensive had been launched.

I was bored. So I started jazzing up the pot, betting at least a hundred on every card. I didn’t care what kind of hand I had. Money no longer mattered. And it was kind of fun watching the other combrids’ faces as they tried to figure out what I had I was so proud of, what kind of game I was playing. But not as much fun as when Vichsn had been one of the players.

My first card up was a diamond queen. Eyebrows were raised when I led with a C-chip, but nobody folded on me. I knew they would play along for a while. They paused to think though, when I bet a hundred and raised another hundred on a four of hearts. There was even more thinking when I bet heavily on a ten of clubs. But everyone played along. They decided I was bluffing and trying to buy the pot. Which I was.

I was enjoying myself thoroughly. I almost forgot about Vichsn not being there. Almost.

When another queen rolled up as my last card, I nearly laughed out loud. It was all I could do to keep from grinning like a sandcat. Now I could really bluff. Two queens showing. Everyone would think my hole card was a queen. Three ladies. Not bad. So I threw a grand into the pot.

That really caused the other players to sweat.

I probably could have bought the pot.

But then the battle gong began clanging.

Everyone in the club jumped up and began putting on combat armor. Outside, combrids were already running across the commons. Hoverbuses began to warm their engines; the whine of gravturbines filled the air.

I cursed under my breath. They would sound general quarters just as I was beginning to have fun. I pulled on my armor and picked up my pack. Then I noticed Peppardine was still in the room, standing across the table from me. I turned to leave, then paused. I illuminated the dark-hole facet on my poker crystal for the first time.

I stared at it for a moment.

Then I had to laugh.

For the queen of spades stared back at me.

* * *

We were briefed while airborne in the hoverbus.

The Gunny spoke in his usual clipped speech. He was so dry and laconic you had the urge to suck on your helmet nipple. The elves had launched a major attack on our spaceport, apparently in an effort to cut our lines of supply. Other than being a predictable move, it was a good idea. But the Lords of High Command knew what a tempting target the port would be, so it was heavily defended with triple force-fields and double batteries of autopulsars. The elves had no real chance to break through its computer-directed defenses. In the past, they’d shown no inclination toward suicide attacks. So they must have some ulterior motive behind the attack. So High Command held back on sending combrid units to the port, waiting to see what would develop later in the day. They trusted the port’s defense to the cold precision of battle computers firing autopulsars.

The elven attack continued without letup, but consisted of long-range bombardment with heavy pulsars. Their big guns parried with ours. They didn’t mount a direct attack and risk exposing themselves to counterattack. High Cornmand became even more suspicious. The elves looked too vulnerable. A couple of our divisions were mobilized and feigned an attack. As expected, the elves put up only token resistance as they retreated deeper into the forest. They fought only enough to try to lure us into chasing them,

Then their real attack began.

Our depot at Chronus reported being under heavy bombardment. Most of the Corps munitions and fuel were stored there. The elves hoped we would be too busy chasing their diversionary forces to defend the depot. Of course, it was just as heavily defended with force-fields and autopulsars as the port. So they would need ground forces to try to knock out our computer guns. They knew that and so did we.

That’s when our unit was mobilized.

Our hoverbus hung in the air over a clearing in the forest. We were supposed to be at the rear of the elven ground forces. They were going to be trapped between us and the autopulsars defending Chronus. A pincer maneuver. A glorious victory for Mother Earth. At least that was the plan. I remembered something about mice and men and plans. I wondered if elves were included in there somewhere.

We quickly filed out of the bus and jumped to the ground. I scrambled toward the trees and made it to their cover without incident. The hoverbus was already accelerating away. The whine of gravturbines ebbed.

The Gunny had us form a V and we began advancing through the trees. Far away was the sound of heavy artillery, as faint as distant thunder. I had my sensors turned to max gain and had twelve diopters of magnification warping my visor. But the woods were quiet; nothing moved save us. My sensors detected no hidden surprises.

The forest held an eerie silence. Night approached. Fog thickened. Already hydrocarbon snow was falling, heavy and sticky with pentane and hexane rain mixed in. It was cold, at least eighty or ninety below. But combat armor kept me warm. Only my thoughts were chilled.

Ebbing light glittered from aggregates of emerald, sapphire, amethyst, and tourmaline. Serrated leaves sparkled like broken teeth. Underbrush broke into shards as we passed; fallen leaves screeched under combat boots. The trees were like giant fiber optic bundles; a translucent sheath enclosed tiny tubes that transported both hydrocarbon monomer and crystal composite upward, where the tubules fanned out at the tree’s top and budded into leaves. Photopolymerization occurred in the leaves, and a matrix of complex crystals and polymer formed into geometric shapes. A forest of ripe glass dandelion heads. Silent for two or three kilometers.

Then the quiet was broken.

“Here they come!” shouted the Gunny.

I saw elves swooping from tree to tree, firing their pulsars in midair. Tree trunks picked up the flash of the weapons firing. The light was conducted distally to set their leaves glowing. Foliage quivered to the shriek of hydrocarbon gas parting for the pulsar beam, then shook with a sudden clap of thunder when the vacuum filled.

I fired my assault rifle at the swift-gliding elves in short bursts. Spent photonuclear cases arced into the air and clattered against the trunks of glass trees. I backed up slowly. The Gunny was having us form a ring, with our backs to our fellow combrids. I took cover behind a fallen tree and fanned pulsar beams at any elf who showed too much of himself,

We were just supposed to delay the elves, to make sure they couldn’t escape. Reinforcements were coming to administer the coup de grace. The two divisions used earlier to fake an attack were already on their way to help. So there was no point being a hero. Just stay alive until help came. And worry the elves a little. Slow them up a little.

Which was exactly what I intended to do. I squirmed deeper into the ground beside my tree trunk, using the trunk as a rest for my weapon. I certainly didn’t intend to be a hero. I planned to desert from the Corps that very night. A miner named Nels waited in the mindcasinos of Chronus. He was going to tell me where the timestone was hidden. Then I was going to find it and build myself a little empire on the ashes of the Terran Empire. Getting killed didn’t figure into my plans at all.

I upped the gain on the laser scope of my assault rifle and slowly scanned the forest. I saw an elf swoop to a tree and cling to it briefly as he decided which way to launch himself. I centered the pale disk of the point of impact of the laser sight on him and touched the firing stud, squeezing off three quanta before he could move. Gray fur exploded. The elf crumpled and fell to the ground.

No problem. We could hold them here for hours, until our trap was sprung.

Me and my big mouth.

A moment later a concussion almost knocked me over. A patch of forest was missing in front of me.

“They’ve turned their big guns around,” the Gunny whispered in my head. “They’ll have the range with the next salvo. We’ve got to move. Everyone retreat.”

I agreed wholeheartedly. No hero me. I cautiously stood up. Pulsar beams stabbed out of the forest through which we’d just come. Glass exploded over my head. Sharp fragments of crystal pinged against my armor. If I’d been an elf, I would have been skewered. Lucky me.

We were trapped between two columns of elves.

“I can’t move, sarge,” I bawled into my cortical mike. “They’ve got me pinned down with snipers.” It was the same for every combrid. We were caught. That had been their plan all along. They knew they couldn’t breach the walls of the depot. They’d pulled a double feint, luring us into attacking with ground forces, then trapping us in the forest with their own ground forces, where our hoverbuses couldn’t evacuate us and their artillery could blow us into orbit. Devious devils. If I hadn’t been the one about to be blown to bits, I would’ve admired their trickery.

But I was the one.

I waited nervously for the Gunny to think of something. That’s what they paid him for: to think for the rest of us. I hoped he’d come up with something real quick.

Then I felt myself being lifted into the air by a giant hand. Only there wasn’t any hand. Just a concussion wave. With the clarity of expanded perception, where an instant becomes stretched forever, I saw the tree trunk I’d been hiding behind turn into vapor as a blast crater formed. I seemed to float high in the air for an eternity. I knew the initial blast had broken some bones; my right thigh and left forearm felt as if hot coals had been placed under the skin and it hurt all over my chest when I tried to breathe. It felt as if a knife were sticking into my left side—a ruptured spleen or perforated viscus, I thought. And they were right: your whole life does flash before you. I saw again the endless scenes of petty cruelty as my parents slowly destroyed each other. With me in the middle, about to be destroyed myself. I saw Grychn as a child, licking out the fires of an alphalash from my skin. I saw my brother Henri, playing his Executioner Game until Robrt had choked to death. I saw again my own death mask. I knew I was going to die here. My face would freeze on Titan. My eyes would bulge, then burst finally. AIl my running had been for nothing. The time matrix had caught up with me. Then I saw the face of the chimera, somehow melded with Vichsn’s, until they were one.

The same hand that lifted me now flung me back to the ground as the inner core of the photon bomb imploded. Explosion/implosion shells were quite popular with elves. Particularly nasty, they said. Frogs, do the dead lose their cynicism? I hoped so. Blackness closed around me.

* * *

I woke with fife burning inside.

Fingers sought secret places; claws sought blood.

Cat-eyes peered into mine.

I recognized Peppardine’s face. The chimera smiled.

I wasn’t dead!

I was strong. Pain evaporated like morning mists and was forgotten. I wasn’t scared. I could do anything. And I was strong. Dogs, how strong!