The Paratwa (#3 in the Parawta Saga)

by Christopher Hinz

  "You used to mock me, Corelli-Paul. You used to compare me to Reemul. But in all candor, I would have to say that Reemul was more like you. That Jeek also was a slave to his emotions.

  "Did you know that Sappho once seduced Reemul? When I was still young boys, she showed me a holo that she had made of their lovemaking session, back on Earth, in the days of the pre-Apocalypse. Sappho wanted me to view this holo so that I would come to understand the nature of manipulation.

  "During their one and only sexual encounter, Colette permitted the Jeek the simultaneity of vaginal-anal intercourse. It was clear from the holo that Reemul experienced great enjoyment.

  "But after that session, Colette never again allowed the Jeek to touch her. In fact, afterward, Reemul was rarely summoned into her presence. From then on, when the Jeek required personal contact, Colette dispatched the partial tway...

  "Ah, but I forget, Corelli-Paul. You know nothing of the partial.” He shrugged. “It is of no consequence. The point of this story is that Reemul was easy to control. He required only a single seduction. From then on, his fantasies sustained Sappho's rule.

  "Your seduction was more difficult, of course. With you, a more consistent effort was deemed necessary."

  A wave of dizziness came over Ghandi. He fell back into the cushions. “We have to ... get her back,” he whispered. “I ... love ... her."

  Calvin shook his head. “You are pathetic, Corelli-Paul. Is there anyone or anything that you have not betrayed? First, you sold out the human race. Then you served as your own Judas. Where do you go from here? Who remains to suffer your treachery?"

  Ghandi stared out the window, numbed into silence by Calvin's diatribe. The landscape, bathed in whiteness, flashed before his eyes—a colorless vista that offered no end.

  O}o{O

  "Welcome back,” Nick said to Meridian, as the Jeek and his dogs reentered Council chambers.

  The Lion stood at the far side of the room, away from the others, studying Meridian's face, searching for some sign of rationality, some indication that the Paratwa had arrived at the decision that it would be pointless to sentence the entire human race to death. But, as before, the tway managed to project an aura of complete indifference.

  Nick sat cross-legged on the table, between Inez and Huromonus. Losef, a few chairs away, tensely observed her monitor. On the FTL screens, Van Ostrand munched nonchalantly on a sandwich. Alone among the councilors, the Guardian commander appeared relaxed. He had rendered his decision, committed his forces to a specific course of action. Now, whatever anxiety he may have been feeling had been superseded by proper soldierly discipline. From Van Ostrand's point of view, there was nothing left to do but dispassionately await the outcome of the battle.

  The Lion wished he could at least imitate such tranquility.

  Nick said, “We've got the tway of Sappho outside chambers. But then ... I guess you already know that."

  Meridian did not reply. He also did not order his dogs to assume their familiar flanking positions at the doorway. This time, the borzoi stayed at its master's side, obediently keeping pace, while the poodle remained on the wolfhound's back, facing the rear of the larger animal. The poodle briskly ragged its tail.

  Nick went on. “By now, I suppose you've gotten a good look at the action on Earth. One hell of a firestorm, wasn't it? For what it's worth, our shuttles also dropped some biotoxins into the atmosphere, although I doubt that they were really necessary. The nukes did a pretty good job. Still, the more the merrier.

  "Of course, a month or so from now, when Jon's Guardians get within attack range...” The midget gave a bored shrug. “Well, I guess we no longer have to spell things out for you."

  Coolly, the Jeek scanned the room, briefly locking gazes with each one of them. Finally, he spoke:

  "There is massive rioting throughout the Colonies. The populace has learned of your rash decisions. An overwhelming majority of citizens is calling for the removal of the five of you as Irryan councilors."

  Inez smiled wanly. “I've been meaning to take a long vacation."

  "Likewise,” said Huromonus, nodding to Losef. She keyed her terminal.

  The Lion circled the table until he was directly across from Meridian. “I believe it's time that we talk to your master."

  The door again opened. Two armed Security men escorted Colette Ghandi into chambers.

  Her arms were pinned tightly against her sides, wrists shackled to a thin black restrainer belt coiling her waist. Blond curls drooped down across her brow, giving her a slightly disheveled appearance. Yet despite her current predicament, there was something almost brazen in the way she strode into the room. Colette Ghandi seemed to project herself with such intensity that her mere presence demanded homage.

  But it was not just her intensity that riveted the Lion's attention.

  As he gazed at the woman, he found his thoughts turning to his wire. He recalled that it had been weeks since he and Mela had been together, making love.

  "Sappho,” murmured Nick.

  It was something about her pale skin, the piercing eyes, the way her loose brown skirt swirled at her ankles, the thin cloth wafting between her legs, shaping itself to her crotch as she approached the table. It was something about the space between her breasts, where long fringes of pale orange cloth grew from the white chiffon blouse, crawling through that deep valley, caressing its walls, exploring its secrets.

  The Lion felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. He wanted to go to this woman, take her in his arms, make love to her right here and now.

  She smiled for him. But abruptly, he found that he could not return that smile. And then the absurdity of what he was experiencing penetrated the fog of his lust. He broke his gaze, turned away from her. But even that action required great effort.

  A quick glance around the table confirmed that he was not the only one affected by her presence. Huromonus's eyes had narrowed into slits, and his head seemed to be bobbing up and down, as if he was rapidly scanning her from head to toes. On the FTL, Van Ostrand's hand was frozen inches from his mouth, a string of mayonnaise dribbling from the edge of his sandwich. Losef was running her tongue across the inside of her lips. Inez's forehead rippled into a deep scowl. Even the two guards could not stop staring at their prisoner.

  But Nick was grinning from ear to ear. Suddenly, the midget clapped his hands, hopped to his feet atop the table, threw back his head, and laughed uproariously. “Wake up, everybody! Get the old hormones under control!"

  The spell was broken. Huromonus ruefully shook his head. The others started to relax as well.

  Losef dismissed the guards. With obvious reluctance, the two men backed out of the chamber. The black door slid shut.

  "Jesus, Sappho!” exclaimed Nick, still grinning. “You're a genuine vamp, aren't you? No wonder most of the Paratwa population followed your orders!"

  Her face stopped shining. Coldly calculating eyes fastened on the midget.

  "Or maybe,” mused Nick, “you're more like a bitch in permanent heat. Maybe you can even turn it on and off at will. But whatever it is, you should have a license for it. ‘Cause, uncontrolled, you're a goddamn danger to society."

  She finally spoke, her words emerging on the back of a husky growl. “My name is Colette Ghandi. You have made some sort of bizarre mistake—"

  "Don't waste our time,” snapped the Lion.

  "Damn right,” said Nick. “We know exactly who and what you are. Colette Ghandi might be your tway, but I know we're not talking to her at the moment. You're Sappho—Ash Ock monarch of the Royal Caste."

  "Continue such denials,” warned Huromonus, “and we'll have you removed."

  "Yeah,” said Nick. “We can just as effectively deal with Meridian."

  The Lion saw the barest flash of anger darken her face. But it was almost instantly replaced by an open smile.

  "Very well, I am Sappho. But there seems to be a problem of communication here. You do not seem to truly understand that we c
an destroy you—utterly. I would suggest that it is this Council which is the true danger to society."

  "Yeah, well, that's a matter of perspective, now isn't it.” Nick faced the others. “Take a good look at your enemy. Here is the creature responsible for the deaths of millions of human beings. Here before you stands the genesis of Earth's Paratwa. Here stands the seductress of the Ash Ock, who has been manipulating the human race for over three centuries.

  "She arranged for Doyle Blumhaven to be murdered after he became a liability to her schemes. She arranged for Jon Van Ostrand to be put in charge of the Guardians.” Nick faced Inez. “This is the creature responsible for the attempted murder of your grandniece. By killing Susan Quint during one of the tripartite's intricately scheduled massacres of skygene couriers, the Ash Ock hoped to influence you into accepting the inevitability of their ultimate victory. You would, in essence, become more malleable to their plans. A similar ploy was used to orientate the Lion.

  "The Ash Ock made you and the Lion aware of your own mortality, by stealing something precious from each of you. In your case, Inez, they robbed you of your closest living relative. They believed that when it came time to threaten the destruction of the Colonies, awareness of your loss would make you more willing to do what was necessary to spare the cylinders."

  "And from me,” the Lion conceded, “it was my courage which was stolen.” He glared coldly at their prisoner. “Fortunately, that theft was discovered in time. What was taken has now been restored."

  Nick turned to Huromonus. “I'm afraid, Eddie, that you didn't quite fit into their plans so neatly. You turned out to be a bit of a wild card."

  "Such is life,” said Huromonus. “And what about our Council president?"

  Losef gazed vacantly at one of the wall paintings. “I was the easiest one to interpret. No extraordinary manipulation was necessary."

  "That's right,” said Nick. “The ICN always follows the money flow. It's a sure bet."

  "I have always adhered to the path of my duties."

  The Lion was not certain, but he thought he heard a trace of unfamiliar sarcasm in Losef's words. Perhaps she too had transcended—at least in some small way—the boundaries of her predictability.

  Meridian sighed. “The Council continues to waste time. I repeat my earlier assertion: nothing has changed. The skygene viruses are still poised for release.” The Jeek turned to Van Ostrand. “Unless those last orders to your fleet are countermanded—unless the surface decimation is limited to its current level—the Os/Ka/Loq will cause your cylinders to be made uninhabitable. And if that happens...” he paused for effect “—where will you go?"

  "To hell, maybe,” admitted Nick. “But it's a moot point either way. The Guardian fleet can no longer be recalled. Jon?"

  Frowning, Meridian and Sappho turned to the FTL. Van Ostrand finished chewing a final bite of sandwich, then shrugged. “We sent a priority-one blackout directive to our ship commanders. They've been ordered to ignore all future fleet-external communications. Whatever happens in the Colonies will not make the slightest difference to the status of their mission. Even a direct command from the Colonies couldn't stop them at this point. Our ships have been warned that the Paratwa will probably attempt to issue recall orders, using the medium of the Irryan Council. Such orders will also be ignored."

  Huromonus said, “Jon, we know that many of your commanders are sympathetic to the ideals of the Order of the Birch."

  "That's true,” admitted Van Ostrand, his voice growing colder. “Many of my people have a passionate hatred of the Paratwa. And they are now fully aware of the importance of their mission. Nothing will deter them from making the Earth uninhabitable for millennia to come."

  From atop the table, Nick wagged his finger at the Ash Ock tway. “Ya know, Sappho, the problem with complex schemes is that when they backfire, they usually do it in a big way."

  Something inside Sappho snapped. The Lion watched her face begin to change as fury overwhelmed that careful control, that innate sense of haughtiness. Glaring at Nick, she took a menacing step toward the table.

  With a sharp movement, Meridian stepped in front of her, blocking her path. He addressed her calmly. “There was a time when the Czar's destruction was within the realm of your options. That time has now passed."

  From over the Jeek's shoulder, Sappho continued to glare at Nick.

  The Lion said, “Meridian, it's our understanding that the colony of Red Saxony still has not been contaminated, despite rumors to the contrary—rumors undoubtedly spread by the Paratwa."

  "To create further discord,” added Nick.

  "Whatever the reason for the delay,” continued the Lion, the fact remains that your deadline has passed. The colonists within Red Saxony are still breathing air. Your viral bomb has not been triggered."

  "This is most puzzling,” said Huromonus.

  "Yeah,” said Nick, displaying a frown. “I mean, you said that you can remotely trigger these skygene suitcases from the Biodyysey. So what's the holdup?"

  Sappho tried to shove her way past Meridian, but the Jeek refused to budge. The borzoi and the poodle began to growl.

  Nick laughed. “She's got a real problem, hasn't she, Meridian? I mean, three centuries ago, when the original Os/Ka/Loq tway of Sappho arrived here in her probe ship, she managed to convince her fellow brethren aboard the Biodyysey that the Earth would make for a dandy colony. Our planet had a biosphere similar to their home world, the proper temperature range, et cetera. Minimum terraforming would be necessary. Even the most delicate of interrelated Os/Ka/Loq life-forms could prosper on our world, once the original inhabitants were ... eliminated.

  "So even though an advanced technological species existed on the Earth, Sappho went ahead with her schemes. After all, she reasoned, a good Apocalyptic nuking would wipe out the human race as well as take care of the rest of Earth's rigorous life-forms.

  "But things didn't quite work out the way Sappho planned. Destroying humanity turned out to be a more difficult proposition than first anticipated. We humans proved to be a bit too tenacious. We managed not only to survive the Apocalypse but to thrive and prosper up here in the Colonies. So even though the Earth was appropriately prepped for Os/Ka/Loq reseeding, a great danger remained to foil their plans. The human race now possessed a tactical position whereby we could fairly easily recontaminate the planet. And that wasn't her only problem. There was the traitorous Aristotle and the unknown damage potential contained in his hypothetical Freebird.

  "By this time, Sappho, I figure you were already beginning to fall out of favor with your Os/Ka/Loq pals. We now know enough about this telepsionically linked species of yours to understand that they must not have been overly pleased by your growing list of errors. The Os/Ka/Loq run a pretty exclusive club, and any member who starts messing up runs the risk of being—what do you call it—disincorporated?"

  A muscle along Sappho's neck twitched.

  Nick smiled coldly. “Not a nice word, is it? Disincorporation—to an Os/Ka/Loq, a fate worse than death.

  "Still, although your race was unhappy with your failures, you presented them with a modified plan. When the Apocalypse occurred—when you and Theophrastus and the hordes of Paratwa assassins escaped the Earth in the Star-Edge fleet, when you headed out into space to rendezvous with the approaching Biodyysey—you convinced the Os/Ka/Loq that the original timetable for reseeding our world was still valid. Codrus had been left behind in the Colonies to inhibit technological growth and to cripple any large-scale efforts to restore the Earth. And Aristotle's secret archival program, if it even existed, probably would never be found.

  "But then Codrus messed up, and the events of fifty-six years ago forced yet another alteration to your schemes. This time, you had to send your human tway back to Earth with the sunsetter, because now that the Colonies were making a concerted effort to play technological catch-up—accessing formerly restricted weaponry and defense data from the archives—there was an even greater chanc
e that someone might stumble upon Aristotle's program.

  "So you returned to the Colonies and tried to get things back on track. And as the moment of truth approached—as the Biodyysey entered our solar system—you instituted a headlong rush of events, hoping that rapid-fire happenings would keep us off balance. You assumed that we'd be so overwhelmed and confused by the so-called Order of the Birch massacres, by Doyle Blumhaven's murder, by the attack on the Lion's retreat, by the revelation that viral bombs had been planted in all of our Colonies, that we would fail to discover that we actually possessed a fairly simple means of denying your species their ultimate prize.

  "From a subtle psychological standpoint, the idea of the virus was particularly clever. Contamination of a cylinder's atmosphere—the loss of breathable air—would serve to inspire survivors into perceiving the Earth with even greater devotion. Air—being stolen from the Colonies—was again becoming abundant on the planet. So during the early stages of your reseeding, possible threats of terrorist action against the Earth would be lessened. I suspect that CPG Corporation also contributed to spreading the idea that the Earth was a thing of immense value."

  Nick paused. “It is a thing of great value. But our home world was not meant for your species, Sappho. The Earth is ours. And if we have to deny it to ourselves to prevent it from being stolen, so be it."

  A weird sound began to emerge from Sappho, like the deep mournful growl of some animal trying to escape its cage. The dogs instantly swiveled their heads, locked onto the source of the disturbance. Meridian took a step away from her.

  Nick approached the edge of the table, then aimed an accusing finger down at the tway. “And now, Ash Ock, it's judgment day. You stand before humans whom you attempted to perform genocide upon. And you stand before your own Os/Ka/Loq brethren, whom you have failed."

  Screeching with rage, trying to wrench her arms free of the restrainer belt, Colette Ghandi, tway of Sappho, lunged toward the table. But she never made it.