Merrie Dawn

by Chris

  "Then you have a cure."

  "No, but it's better than anything your Federation is using."

  He had the feeling she wasn't saying something.

  "We're working toward a cure, and thanks in part to my team's research, a new anti-viral treatment should be in production by the end of the Federation year. They've proven to be far more effective against both biogerm strains than anything available now."

  She leaned closer, whispering so softly he barely heard. "What makes you think biogerm's a virus?"

  "Because…" Because that's what he'd been told. Evidence implied it. Research confirmed it. He frowned, suddenly uncertain. "It acts in ways similar to other alien viruses which affect humans."

  "Yet it's not."

  "But-"

  "Trust me, it's not."

  He began to speak, but she touched his lips with a finger.

  "What would you do if I help you – save your daughter's life?"

  "I have no money to speak of."

  "I don't want money. I'm rich enough."

  "Then what do you want? I won't betray the Federation."

  "Two things. Firstly, a promise you won't tell anyone."

  He raised his eyebrows. "You can't be serious? A cure for biogerm? Everyone should know."

  "I have my reasons. You'll understand when you know about it, and not before." Her face was unreadable.

  "Tell me!"

  "Either you make the promise, or leave."

  He closed his eyes, an image of his dying daughter in his mind. "I promise," he whispered. "So long as you deliver what you say you can. What else?"

  "Good enough. Secondly, make love to me."

  "What!" He opened his eyes with a start, shaking his head. "There's no way-"

  She touched his lips again. "I'm sorry, but your promise isn't enough. I need insurance. If you break your promise I can ensure you face Federation court for contravening the moratorium on Relaxation Chambers. Though, somehow, the possibility of a note finding its way into your wife's hands would be more likely to keep you silent. That's the deal. Take it or not."

  "Even if I agreed, which I won't, you should know I'm infected with biogerm. The silver strain. Infection could kill you unless your cure is real."

  "I appreciate your honesty, but I knew that when I kissed you earlier." She held her palm out before him, and blew white powder into his face just as he was breathing in.

  He yelled and moved back, blinking tears as he wiped it from his eyes.

  "What was that?" It tasted like liquorice. He wanted to spit.

  She moved to the far wall. "Something to make this easy. What world are you from?"

  He paused, wondering where she was leading. A wave of dizziness hit him. He gasped and dropped to his knees. "What did you blow at me?"

  "Just a mild hallucinogen and memory suppressant, combined with an aphrodisiac. It'll wear off in a few hours. So now, tell me who I am."

  He couldn't think. The room was wavering no matter how many times he blinked. He tried to stand, but stumbled and hit the ground.

  He closed his eyes, wondering how he got so drunk. It must have been a big night, and not just alcohol. His head throbbed. He couldn't even remember going out.

  He looked up. His wife was watching him from the far curtain.

  "Kirrin?" He had trouble focusing. He frowned, pushing himself to his knees. "What are you wearing?"

  "Terrence, I need you to think carefully. Where are you from?"

  He frowned. "Arim Noriethir. As are you. Where are we? This isn't our room."

  Kirrin parted the draped cloth to reveal a small terminal.

  "Arim Noriethir, clothing, female, underwear. Casual, sensual, and traditional."

  Her body hid the images, but he could see the reflected light on the side of her face and shoulder.

  Any audio feedback must have been going straight to her implant. Kirrin raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips as images cycled through. Goose bumps prickled his arms.

  "What's going on?" he asked as he pushed himself to his feet. The dizziness was going.

  She walked over to him, a hungry look on her face.

  "I thought you were sick. Have you gone into remission?"

  He coughed, and grimaced at the taste of blood in his mouth. He suppressed another cough out of habit, though she knew he'd been infected at the same time as her. He'd infected her, after all. His body was merely dealing with it better. He frowned. Or was. She looked healthier now than him. Much healthier.

  She approached close enough to brush her breasts against him, ignoring his question. "All fairly boring except for the corsetry."

  He thought briefly of the first time he'd ever made love to her. She'd been wearing a beaded corset as part of an ancient musical performance, and he'd never fully undressed her. She'd had a waist he could put his hands around, then. Before biogerm. Before Shaunen.

  Kirrin's nipples brushed against his shirt. "I think it's very erotic."

  He took another look at her strange clothing. Not clothing. Tattoos. When? How?

  He stepped back, staring at the tattoos in sudden shock. Biogerm tattoos. They must be new.

  How come she wasn't dead?

  He tried to remember. The tattoos would take days to kill. The toxins must be affecting her mind.

  He felt the sexual intensity radiating from her, and found himself responding despite his best efforts not to. But just touching her would allow his skin to absorb toxins from her body.

  She noticed his fixation, and smiled. "They're old. No longer toxic. Forget about them."

  He tried not to pull away as she put her hands behind his neck and drew his head down next to hers.

  Whispering, she said, "I might have something 'traditional' in my range I could put on. Shall I?"

  Please, he thought, yet found it difficult to think past her tattoos. When had she got them? "I-"

  "Of course you would." She smiled. "A moment." She slipped behind the curtain.

  Terrence raised his hand but she was already gone. His heart was beating hard. He took a deep breath, then another, suppressing a cough.

  What was going on? He was responding like a teenage boy. He closed his eyes and massaged his temples with the heels of his hands, trying to think it through.

  He walked over to the bed and sat down, but a gravity field began lifting him.

  "Wha!" He grabbed the post and pulled himself free. He couldn't remember when they'd had that installed. He needed time to think. Lots of time.

  "A decade ago empaths were respected."

  Terrence spun around, but couldn't see Kirrin. She remained behind the curtain.

  What was she talking about now?

  "I still respect them. One helped my grandmother. What of it?"

  "Ever stop to consider why there's been such a turnaround? Why would empaths, who are often so sensitive they're unable to harm even someone hurting them, suddenly be linked to every crime imaginable?"

  Terrence shrugged. "I haven't given it any thought."

  "Because certain people want it that way. Very powerful people. Those with a lot to lose. Turn around."

  "Why?"

  "Because I asked you to."

  He sighed, wondering if she'd deliberately misinterpreted his question. "Fine." He turned. "Those aren't really tattoos, are they? They're just imitations."

  He heard her step through the curtain and approach him. He began to turn, but she spoke first.

  "Don't, please." He listened to her come closer, and before he could react her arms snaked around his waist and pulled him tight to her.

  "Relax," she said. "And don't worry about your biogerm infection. It can't hurt me."

  What was she talking about? She had it too. The warmth of her body penetrated his shirt. Her arms relaxed slightly and her fingers began to trace the lines of his chest.

  "You're acting strange today," he said.

  "Shhh. I
f you don't like it, say so."

  He closed his eyes, took hold of her wrists and pulled them down and away. He knew what she'd be wearing and felt himself responding accordingly, but he had too many questions.

  He released her arms with the intention of stepping away, but her small hands slipped around his wrists and guided his hands back to her body.

  Somehow, he couldn't resist her gentle strength.

  "Please, not yet," he whispered. Perspiration trickled down his forehead. "Something's wrong."

  "Then stop me," she said.

  Just one touch. No more. His hands found her sides and his breath caught. Soft silky fabric cinched her waist. He moaned.

  "You like it?" she asked.

  Despite himself he nodded. He turned within her arms… and caught sight of her.

  She again pulled his hands to her waist. The gold garment pushed Kirrin's breasts up, exposing only half of her gold and silver dragons.

  He ran his hands up her stomach, and found he couldn't resist touching her decorated flesh. Her skin felt soft, the dragons almost hot under his fingertips.

  She breathed in sharply. "The tattoos rarely warm to the touch," she whispered. "If only you were looking for a life partner again."

  "Huh?"

  She touched his face, her hand feverishly warm. There was a new look in her eyes. Passion.

  "What a surprise you are." Her hands slid up behind his neck, then he felt her fingers through his hair.

  "When did you go into remission?" he whispered.

  She paid no attention; pulled him down into another kiss. Peaches.

  Her scent invaded his mind. His eyes rolled back and he closed them, unwilling to pull away.

  She broke the kiss and her lips moved to his neck.

  "Is this a dream?" he wondered, not sure if he spoke the words aloud.

  "Not a dream," she whispered. "More like a wish."

  He ignored his instincts and picked her up.

  She kissed him as he carried her to the bed and they allowed the gravity field above it to draw them in.

  She unbuttoned his shirt agonisingly slowly, playfully fending off his attempts to kiss her again.

  Unable to think of anything but the heat of the moment, he fumbled at his pants until she helped him remove them.

  As his clothes floated away, she wrapped her legs around him and they feverishly joined, her skin exotically hot.

  He breathed in with shock from the heat of her body, then kissed her again.

  They rolled in the air, moving in rhythm as perspiration quickly coated them.

  Her fingers dug into his back, scratching all the way to his buttocks.

  He moaned, moving faster, all thoughts turned toward her.

  An abrupt thrill passed through him and her legs tightened behind his back, forcing them hard together.

  His breath caught as he released.

  Seconds passed, a moment so intense he couldn't think, couldn't breathe.

  As it passed they stayed entangled, floating above the bed for minutes as the moment slowly dwindled away.

  He could barely keep his eyes open, barely think. Stray drops of perspiration floated in the air around them.

  She smiled. "In all the time I've been doing this, you're only the third partner I've reacted to like this."

  That didn't make sense, but he couldn't work out why.

  He felt thirsty, hot. Incredibly dizzy. He closed his eyes, ignoring her comment. He felt exhausted.

  He imagined her smiling as she ran her fingernails down his side, then slowly, teasingly disengaged.

  Her free hand caught his cheek as he opened his eyes.

  A smile slowly spread across her face.

  "Time to wake up," she said.

  She reached out and touched a small sensor above the bed. Sweet cool air cycled from vents by the posts.

  "I never said I had a cure."

  He frowned. "What?"

  "The name's Merrie Dawn, remember? At least, it is tonight."

  He shook his head, not understanding. "Kirrin, are you…?"

  Kirrin's form resolved into that of Merrie Dawn, and his clouded memory became clear.

  "Shit!"

  He pushed away, but the gravity field only extended to the edge of the bed.

  "What did you do!" he floated back.

  "Relax." She smiled. "You wanted to save your daughter, didn't you?"

  A thrill of fear passed through him. "Yes. No. What are you talking about? What did you do to me?"

  A burning sensation began in his groin, then a sharp pain drove through his stomach. "Argh! What did you do?"

  She laughed, actually laughed. "Best I don't say. Trust me."

  He felt her amusement, but the words didn't make sense. The pain slowly subsided, leaving him light-headed.

  "I feel… strange."

  "Drunk?"

  He tried to push her away, but couldn't untangle her arms. "Let go," he slurred. "What did you do?"

  "Shhh. Don't fight it."

  He looked around the room, trying to focus on the curtains. On anything. What had she said?

  "Fight what?" he couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. "I'm dying," he whispered.

  "No. Relax and let it explore. Join with it as you did with me."

  Join with it? "I thought you were Kirrin," he slurred.

  "Only while you needed her."

  "Kirrin?" he whispered.

  He felt pressure against his mind, a presence trying to soothe him. He rolled in the air, his eyes momentarily focusing on the silk sheet above him. Below him.

  Someone's hand stroked his forehead.

  He looked around, found himself floating, the room slowly rotating around him. "Where am I?" he whispered.

  "Shhh. You're safe. Relax."

  He began to feel a warm, gentle presence beside him.

  "Kirrin?" his eyes closed of their own accord. "Kirrin, it's been so long. Hours. I should have come home sooner."

  "If you like." A soft hand cupped his cheek. "Relax now."

  He laughed and let her comfort him. "They told me you were infected with biogerm. The silver strain. Like Shaunen. Like me. I knew it wasn't true."

  A finger traced the lines on his forehead. "Shush dear. Go to sleep. I'm here for you."

  He relaxed, letting unconsciousness take him.

  Slowly, like waking from a long cryo-sleep, he became aware of his wife beside him. The gravity field was off and they were lying on their bed.

  A smile slowly worked across her lips. She stretched languidly, naked, her biogerm dragons moving sensuously.

  "Welcome to my world," she said. "You've been asleep all night. It's nearly dawn outside."

  He marvelled at her dimpled smile, her perfect body.

  But then he frowned. She looked different. Younger. Healthy. When did she get the tattoos?

  "Open your eyes," she said.

  What? Shock forced an intake of breath. He opened his eyes and sat up. She lay beside him, just as he'd imagined. Only it wasn't his wife. Merrie Dawn. Guilt wrapped itself around his heart and squeezed.

  "You didn't imagine it," she said. "You can see with your mind now."

  He gaped. She was reading his thoughts.

  "Only your surface thoughts. You'll work it out. I told you I was telepathic, sort of."

  He felt a strong sense of the room, and most of the building and people nearby. "What have you done to me?"

  "You don't need to thank me."

  No, he didn't. He felt it in his soul.

  "The biogerm?" He touched his groin. "Gold strain?"

  She smiled. "Of course."

  "They work together? I can feel you, sense your presence." He touched his head, feeling the presence of thousands more like himself, if not where they were. "There are others on this world."

  "Many. If the Federation knew how many, we'd be exterminated. The biogerm changes us when the two s
trains come together."

  The scientist in him had to know, guilt over his wife or not. Out of energy already, he lay back beside her, palms massaging his eyes. "Tell me."

  "There's little to tell. Biogerm's basically an alien fungus. It produces male and female spores – gold and silver." Her fingers brushed her biogerm-derived tattoos. "Gold passes on through sexual contact, silver via saliva. They spread, find a 'mate', and mature into a new organism. That begins a new symbiotic relationship with the host."

  "But the spores sicken and kill people!"

  "Yes, but only when infected with a single strain. The spores replicate like a virus, which causes problems – cellular damage, autoimmune diseases, organ failure."

  A good reason to find a cure, he thought. He couldn't keep the sarcasm from his voice. "And this benefits the host, how?"

  She smiled in a patronising way, which made him want to grate his teeth.

  "Symbiosis gives the host the ability to communicate telepathically with other hosts, to sense emotions, to see with the mind alone. What's more, our bodies no longer see the biogerm as foreign. Had your wife achieved symbiosis before giving birth, your daughter would have been born with a natural immunity to it which would have lasted until she reached sexual maturity."

  The implications began to come together. "But surely the authorities must have known this…"

  "The ones that matter, yes."

  "Yet they keep it a secret! Why?"

  "Who makes money from treating biogerm? Who's got the finances to control the spread and stop it becoming common knowledge?"

  Almost a whisper, he said, "Federation companies producing antivirals and other treatments."

  "The sickness industry. It's called 'making money'."

  Merrie Dawn rolled off the bed and walked to the curtain. Reaching through, she grabbed something and returned. She held out two small vials containing a greenish-gold liquid.

  He knew what they were. "Live biogerm shots," he said.

  They were used to inject animals for scientific research.

  "So you understand then. To save your daughter, you risk her persecution. Saving your daughter will put both your life, and hers, at risk. Now you know why I wanted insurance. They may be monitoring you. When you leave here, you'd best hide your new knowledge, and symbiosis."

  He took the vials, staring at them as if at poison. "Kirrin can make her own decision, but Shaunen…" He looked up. "How can I?"