“They sold you to the Temple?”
Arta’s jaw trembled and she hesitated. Skyla thought the woman had clammed up until Fera suddenly blurted, “How devious Bruen was. That first night in the Temple, I remember being in a room with all these other young girls. I had a bed in the back. -I was so alone, so scared. I cried all night. The next day the lessons began. At first all the priests did was tell us the story of the Blessed Gods, and how they wanted humanity to have good things. We were going to help make things better for people.”
“I’m beginning to understand.” Skyla shook her head. “The priests teach the little girls sex?”
Arta waved it away. “The priests are all eunuchs at least the ones who train the young girls are. &y do teach sex, but it’s with models and brainwashing. They want virgins to sell for the consecration. We bought the entire story, learning bit by bit about the consecration and how we’d bring pleasure. Now, when I think about what they did to me, my stomach crawls. “
“That’s how they finance the Temple, you know. Money from the girls.” Skyla knotted a fist. “All in all, compared to the cribs of Sylene, there’re worse places to be a prostitute.”
Arta gave her a thoughtful appraisal. “Bruen later told me it was like gang rape. I still didn’t understand. I never got the chance for the consecration. I was ready-anxious even-and wretchedly upset when another girl was chosen in my place. The next night, one of the eunuchs called me out, and I thought my time had come. Except he led me to one of the rear doors where a woman in a brown robe told me I was to go with her. “
“And she took you to Targa?”
“She did. There I entered the Seddi as an Initiate.” Arta’s look became puzzled. “I had the background. Evidently they’d begun conditioning me when I was a child. All the aggression, the intuitive ability, had been implanted by the teaching machines on Vermilion. Bruen and his psychological programs taught me the rest, structured the neural pathways and refined the instinct to kill. When I needed to tap that ability to fight, to kill, it came so naturally. So did the proficiency with weapons.” -
“But you had no idea you were *being prepared to assassinate the Lord Commander?”
Arta raised her head the way a predator sniffs for blood on the night wind. “Staffa kar Therma?” Skyla’s eyes narrowed as she caught Fera’s quickening interest. “You didn’t know? That’s what the revolt on Targa was all about. Bruen and Hyde started it to lure Staffa within reach. Then they’d see that you fell into his hands.”
“It’s the quanta that are to blame. No, I never knew.” A gleam came to her deadly amber eyes. “To have killed the Star Butcher! What an achievement.”
Pus Rot it! That was a mistake, Skyla. “Don’t get any ideas.” Polar cold settled in Skyla’s soul. She nerved herself, pointing a finger. “Let’s get something straight. I’m in love with Staffa. And he’s not the man the Seddi once feared. He, like you, was nothing more than a tool. Leave him alone, Arta!”
Fera curled back into the cushions.
“ Tell me more. What happened? You and the rest of the Seddi talk about the quanta. What went wrong on Targa?” Answer, damn it! Get your mind off Staffa!
Arta’s expression remained slack for long moments while Skyla’s heart skipped, then the raptorial glint hardened. “I fell in love with my tutor, Butla Ret. I ... I wanted him. Wanted to make love to him, share all those wonderful secrets we’d been taught by the Blessed priests. And then ... then . . .”
“ The conditioning kicked in.” Skyla’s gut churned. Bruen, Rot your soul forever!”
Fera leaned forward, taking a death grip on the edge of the table. “One day, I’ll find Magister Bruen. And then. . . .”
“He’s out of your reach.”
‘That remains to be seen. All things have their time and place. “
Go on with your story.”
Arta leaned back, a grim set to her lips. “I couldn’t deal with myself that night. Desire and revulsion filled me. I escaped from Butla’s house, used the skills he’d taught me. But the quanta tricked us all. I was captured and raped by Regaq slavers. And I paid them back.” Arta shook her head, brow lined. “I went insane, killed, and killed. But I didn’t know why. Imagine a program running and rerunning in your brain. You don’t understand it. You can’t stop it. You just have to do it over and over again-and each time it drives you a little more crazy because you don’t understand yourself, or why any of it is happening. You feel impotent, inhuman. Your only companion is fear, because you never know at what moment the program will begin to run, and you’ll have to kill ... someone, anyone. “
Skyla strangled the urge to shiver; instead she gripped her cup until her knuckles stood out. So what happens if that goes off now, Arta? You’ve got the collar control. I won’t have a chance! “But wait a minute, you said Tybalt broke the trigger.”
Arta ran fingers through her glistening hair. “He did. I don’t have to kill now.” She turned intense eyes on Skyla and gave her a lover’s smile. “But that doesn’t mean that I don’t like to. I suppose it’s a lot like fishing, baiting the gear, playing the bait in the water, and getting that first bite. Then you set the hook and reel in the fish, playing it the whole time, knowing all the while that you’re the master of the situation. Only in the end does the prey know the truth-and even then, while you look into their dying eyes, they refuse to believe.” She rubbed her hands together. “I let them die in pain so their souls know for eternity. That’s what they take to God’s Mind. Knowledge taught by pain.”
“So why did you kill Sinklar Fist’s lover?”
Fera shifted uneasily. “I told you, I was insane. She was Regan. Poor fool, she pitied me. No one pities me. The program began to run ... and like always, I acted. “
“But Ily saved you. Took you to Tybalt. How did you get through his security?”
Arta gave a cunning laugh. “Ily put me in a faulty collar. And, no, I didn’t make that mistake with the one your re wearing. Tybalt raped me-right there on the floor of his office bedroom-and raped me again, and again, while I tried to kill him. In the process, I learned how to control the psychological trigger so that by the time the collar shorted, I didn’t have to kill him.” Her laughter bubbled. “But I did, gleefully, painfully! Because the bastard deserved it.”
Skyla remembered Tybalt, remembered the lust in his dark eyes as he appraised her, a hint of promise in his leering grin. How many of his passes had she turned down? How many implied rewards for sexual favors? But I always thought he was a pig, too.
Arta continued, talking as if she’d never felt so uninhibited before. “After I killed the Emperor, Ily decided she could make good use of me.”
“But is that all you want out of life? To be Ily’s tool? If you thought Tybalt deserved death, what about Ily? She’s swamp scum.”
Arta lifted her chin coolly. “Ily loves me. She made a place for me. She values my talent and lets me practice my trade. Wing Commander, I am an assassin. I was bred for it. I thrive on it. “
“Ily loves you? What kind of love? Ily only loves herself and power.” Skyla leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “She’s using you, Arta. You’re a ... a program for her.”
“She loves me!” Arta’s voice wavered as she reached up to lay gentle fingers on Skyla’s cheek. “The way you will come to love me. Not like a man. They think only with their testicles. Given a choice, I’ll take a woman any day. And with you and Ily to love me, I can do anything. “
Skyla’s skin crawled under the woman’s touch. Arta’s expression turned serious. “Ily loves me.” She paused, uncertainty in the set of her mouth. “I can only love women. They’re safe. They won’t hurt you ... not like a man. I was surprised after the first night when I slept with Ily. I felt ... peace. She taught me so many things. Ways to bring pleasure like I never dreamed of. Have you ever loved a woman?”
“No. Not like that. But Ily-“
“I would like to bring you pleasure, Skyla.” “I like men.”
“Arta, no!” Get out of this, Skyla. Do something. She slid out of the booth, backing warily away as Arta followed, a quizzical look in her eyes.
“Is it because I’m not beautiful?”
“You’re damned attractive, Arta. But you’re messed up! Ily doesn’t love you. She’s using you for sex and murder, and she’ll throw you away like spoiled vegetables when you’ve served your purpose. She’s a bitch ... more polluted than Bruen! More vile, more. . . .”
The widening of Fera’s eyes should have been a warning. Skyla should have cued on that sudden tension in the woman’s shoulders as Arta’s fists balled.
Skyla’s entire body went numb, as if her neck had been severed and her head had rolled free. Wideeyed, she watched the cabin slide sideways and spin upward. Blinding light shot through her vision as her skull bounced on the thick carpet. She blinked, opening and closing her mouth like a fish out of water.
Then grayness closed in, an inexorable sphincter around her vision.
Skyla came to groggily and pushed herself up. When had she fallen? Why? Fera stood over her, feet braced, tears streaking down her face ... and memory returned.
Skyla propped her head against the bulkhead, blinking, “You can kill me if you want. But it won’t change a Rotted thing. Ily’s a bloodthirsty bitch.”
Fera shook her head stubbornly. “She loves me! She took me in her arms. She wouldn’t. . . .”
Skyla nodded despite the misery that ached in her skull. Was it the fall or the collar that caused that wretched ache?
“She wouldn’t hurt me!”
“You poor lunatic,” Skyla grunted, closing her eyes. “Pus dripping hell, I feel horrible.”
Hands settled under Skyla’s arms. Here was her chance ... and she couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Arta helped her stumble toward the rear, but at the head, Skyla broke free, just making the toilet before her guts heaved.
When she’d finished voiding like a bilge pump, she slumped on the floor, looking up into Arta’s concerned eyes. Numbly, Skyla dragged her sleeve over her mouth. “You use that collar again, and you’ll take a corpse back to Ily. “
Arta bit her lip, a contrite look on her face. “You shouldn’t say those things about Ily.”
“Truth hurts. In this case, me more than you.” “Will you be all right?”
Yeah. I’m a tough old broad. Got scars to prove it. Arta lowered her eyes. “I wish ... well, it’s out of my hands. Ily will know what to do with you when we get back to Rega. “
Skyla shook her head, wishing she hadn’t. “You don’t know what you let loose when you took me. We might get to Rega first, but by the time Ily’s done with me, Staffa and the fleet will be overhead. After that, you won’t find a brick standing. And I hope to your cursed quanta, that Ily dies last so she can know what she did.”
“If you keep talking that way, I’ll use the collar again,” Arta warned.
Skyla gave her a ghastly grin. “Go ahead. I meant what I said about taking a corpse back. You’re a mental basket case-and Ily’s a slimy cunt anyway you cut the tapa cards. Go ahead, Arta, kill me. If you kill me, you’ll condemn yourself, and Ily, to Staffa’s wrath. You won’t survive me by more than a couple of months.
“Political scientists, politicians, social theorists, and, of course, bureaucrats, and government officials everywhere seek the perfect formulae for managing and influencing the population at large. Giant computers employ vast mountains of data, manipulating incredibly complex statistical packages to determine trends, opinions, and, in most cases, the flash point of the people’s temper. The pursuit of this megamanagement policy has ranged from the sublime to the absurd. The procedure sucks up vast sums of time, money, and effort, and for what?
“The secret to governing is to minimize interfering with the people at large. Think of the population as a large monster, a sort of fat, lazy dragon. So long as the beast is fed, warm, and capable of amusement, it could care less what you, as a ruler, do with your spare time. The beast has no moral scruples past keeping its belly full and its limited mind entertained. Therefore, the efficient ruler is safe to assassinate, torture, murder, extort, or destroy his enemies as he will as long as he doesn’t interfere with the beast.
“Thus, the rules of government can be stated simply: Do not mess with the ordinary people in the street. And remember that the weakest link in the grinding machine of government is the individual—and usually frail-human being.”
· Excerpt recovered from Ily Takka’s personal journal
CHAPTER 22
“Just what are you going to do about Lycinda?” Marteen asked from her station across the Imperial Sassan orbital traffic control room. The watch had been unusually boring, with most of the boards shut down for diagnostics. An order had come through to check the Sassan defense system-another of the preparations in case of Regan hostilities. Banks of monitors lined the walls and the black floor tiles gleamed with a lustrous polish. Atmosphere fans hummed softly overhead, forcing cool air through the grates that broke the white fiber ceiling panels.
Philo Verdun threw his head back and closed his star-blue eyes. His pale blond hair appeared golden in the bright light-a fact that he knew had always irritated Marteen, who had a thing about pale people. “I don’t even know if the child is mine. I mean I just started seeing her two months ago!”
Marteen chuckled, lifting a thin eyebrow as she placed an arm over her chair back and stared across at Philo. “Two months is time enough. Do you know how many sperm you males dump inside us when you hit that happy moment?”
Philo opened his eyes and studied the traffic control room with a disgusted frown. None of the array of monitors had changed. He sighed and glanced at the board with its familiar dots neatly in their place. Hour in, hour out, he watched the patterns: ensuring that each of the vessels closing on Imperial Sassa obeyed the rules; that radiation didn’t get released toward any of the stations; that Delta V got dumped properly and reaction was channeled into the proper vectors. The comm kept an eye on all of it anyway, so most of his job was interpreting when an infraction merited a follow-up and citation.
Now he wheeled around in his chair, staring at Marteen. “Look, what if it is mine? I’m not ready for half interest in a child right now. I mean, that’s final. I’ve got a good career set up, and I’m banking time, woman. I’m headed for one of the orbital platforms, because that’s where the advancement is. I sure don’t want any third of my credits going for child support. Not when I’m outward bound.” He paused. “Besides, I’m still not sure it’s mine.”
“She that friendly with that many guys?” Marteen raised a censuring eyebrow. “Thought you were pretty picky about where you put your little oneeyed friend?”
He blushed. He didn’t like Marteen that much anyway. She’d shut him down when he tried to lay her the first week he’d been assigned here. She, in turn, despised him, and that irked, too. Marteen had a delicate oval face surrounded by a wealth of black hair. Her slanted eyes looked out at the world with a cool self-possession. Lycinda, on the contrary, couldn’t be called desirable, except she did have nice legs.
Philo heard the soft beep and turned to see the alert reading. He canceled the flash of light on the monitor which indicated a breach of regulation as reaction shot out from Markelos’ position.
“Asshole freighter.” He keyed his comm. “Markelos, you’re moving off course. Correct, please.” He turned back to Marteen, irritated by her flagrant dislike. Lines of figures filled the screen behind his back, indicating increased vector change and acceleration.
“You know, you’ve always had a real attitude problem, woman. You think that I’m a low rent, but one of these days, you’re gonna remember these days as the time when you were my supervisor.”
Marteen smiled sweetly and shook her head, expression neutral. “You never cease to amaze me. When it comes to brass balls and lead brains, you’ve go
t both, Philo. Who’d you bribe to get this position anyway?”
He smirked. “Talent all the way, baby.” He tapped the side of his head to indicate the source. “You’ve got to have it where it counts. “
She gave him a bland look. “As I recall, you generally point to your crotch when you say that. So maybe you really did ‘have it where it counts.’ I mean didn’t you ever consider her? She’s not a bad kid, in spite of the fact she lets you into her bed. You must have made her feel like shit when you laid that ‘So ... how do I know it’s mine,’ crap on her. “
Philo’s entire screen began to flash with red warnings indicating a major breach of traffic regulations. Had he not disconnected the alarm for the nuisance it was, it, too, would have been blaring.
" Listen, why do you always launch into me? I mean, she’s half of the problem. There’s no reason why I should have to suffer for something-“
“You’re half, pal.” Marteen pointed a slender finger at him. “And I hope Lycinda gets a magisterial garner on a third of your salary for life. “
Philo allowed himself to give her a lingering disdainful glare. Pus take it all, it would be so much easier if Marteen wasn’t so cursed good looking. Even hating her, he wondered what she’d be like in the sack. To avoid her cool, mocking glare, he turned back to his monitor-and gaped. The screen flashed alternately in red and yellow.
“Gods help us,” Philo whispered, too stunned to act. Then he stabbed the emergency alert button. In the screen, he could see a lance of reaction curving off of Markelos’ approach, and vectoring right into the military security zone.
A voice announced crisply. “This is Traffic Control Security. You’ve triggered an all-system alert. Please respond.”
“They ... they. Philo clutched his monitor, trying to settle his horrified mind. “They’ve gone off course! Headed right for the base! Off course!”
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