Pira

by Piers Anthony

  “No, silly. They know all about us. We just wait for the call.”

  “The call?”

  “When there's a crisis in this area, or one that needs a One, they'll tell us where to go. Meanwhile we have free time with pay. We can go see a movie.”

  “A movie.” He felt somewhat let down.

  “A nice romantic one. We can hold hands in the dark,” she said hopefully. “I won't tell.”

  Just so. He had tacit leave to do with her whatever he wanted, in or out of bed, but she knew that hand holding was about as far as she could push it.

  Then her cell phone rang. They had to travel to a neighboring state. “Our first mission!” Pira exclaimed. “I'm so excited.”

  “Uh, yeah,” he agreed.

  Soon they were on a plane. “It's exactly how I dreamed it would be,” Pira said. “Going somewhere with you. Maybe you'll forget it's business.” She laid her head on his shoulder and slept.

  Like a date, again. She was playing a game, but underlying it was her very real hope that he would forget, if only for a moment. He was glad she was relaxed. He wasn't; there were too many unknowns. Hostage situations were dangerous.

  The address turned out to be not a grandiose skyscraper office but an old warehouse. Which made sense: folk would not notice activity there. A severe older woman ushered them in. “Just call me Supe,” she said tersely, indicating her small badge showing crossing lasers. “We are largely anonymous here.”

  Orion spoke. “We're--”

  “We know who you are. Laserist and guardian. That suffices until the paperwork arrives.” She glanced at Pira. “I must say, you don't look like much. We didn't know they were recruiting children. What's your rank?”

  Pira stayed touchingly close to Orion, cowed. “One, she said faintly.”

  “Don't fool with me, girl. There are no Ones.”

  Nervously angry, Pira met her gaze. “There is now.”

  “I don't think you understand. We have a crisis that can't wait on personal games. Hostages may be killed at any moment. We sent for help, anticipating maybe a Two.”

  Pira looked at Orion, her fundamental uncertainty manifesting. “She doesn't believe me. What do I do?”

  In judo, a high ranked visiting competitor was soon put to the test; it was not possible to fake it. He needed to come up with something she could do that would settle the issue. “Can you make a fast but effective demonstration that goes beyond setting paper on fire? That fellow laserists would acknowledge?”

  “Sure. But that wouldn't be nice.”

  “This is not the time for nice. They are questioning your competence. It's the time to damn well show off. Do it.”

  Prompted by his advice, Pira turned to Supe. “You've got a practice room?”

  “Of course.”

  “Bring out your best laserists, with practice gear. Get a bulb unit for me too. We can do this in five minutes.”

  “Of course.” The woman didn't try to conceal her doubt. Orion couldn't blame her; who would believe that what appeared to be a nine year old child would have a top ranking in a highly specialized discipline? Yet sometimes it happened, as with chess prodigies or gym competitors.

  Soon they were in the practice room, which was about fifty feet by a hundred feet, with small light bulbs set along the sides at measured intervals: ten feet, twenty feet, and so on to the farther corner. Three men appeared. Orion could see that they wore similar under-shirt harnesses to Pira's, complete with the flesh colored gloves, now that he knew what to look for. “She says she's a One,” Supe said.

  “Call me Five,” one man said.

  “Four,” the second said.

  “Three,” the third said.

  All donned exterior frames that supported lighted bulbs about a foot in front of their chests. Pira's looked larger, because she was so small. She was barely half the mass of the thinnest man. “Try me first,” Five said. “I'm the slowest.”

  “No,” Pira said. “All three together.”

  “You sure, kid? This is not a game.”

  “Exactly.” She glanced at Orion. “Call it, randomly.”

  The four faced each other, three grown men and one girl child, all with their hands slightly spread out from their bodies, palms forward. It certainly looked uneven.

  “Blow the lid off,” he murmured to her. She nodded, emboldened again by his certainty. It was not her laser competence that made her hesitate, but uncertainty about what was called for to make the right impression.

  Orion lifted his right hand. “Ready.”

  They waited.

  “Now!”

  The bulbs before the three men popped, One! Two! Three! in rapid order. Then Pira removed her own bulb and tossed it into the air, where it popped in flight.

  “What's your record?” she asked.

  “Forty feet,” Three said, looking dazed.

  She oriented on the measured bulbs, her hands spreading wide apart, and they popped, starting at the fifty foot one and proceeding to the hundred foot, popping about a second apart. The men watched, mouths open.

  “Enough!” Supe cried. “We believe you! You're One.”

  Obviously that was the case. Pira had come through amazingly.

  Three shook his head. “Never saw the like.”

  Orion stepped in, seizing the moment. “The crisis. Let's get on it.”

  “You get the details,” Pira told him. “I gotta go pee.” That was her first indication of physical tension, now that she had proved herself.

  “This way, honey,” Supe said, smiling. Her attitude had suffered a sea change, doubt replaced by awe. “Brief him, Three.” She guided Pira through a side passage.

  “You look as surprised as we are,” Three said to Orion. “Haven't you seen her perform before?”

  “Not like that.”

  “Didn't she tell you her rank?”

  “Yes. I assumed she meant she graduated first in her class of six.”

  All three men laughed together. “Number one in her class, sure,” Three said. “But it's more than that.”

  “Number one in her state?”

  “Number one in the world.”

  “In the world!”

  “She's the first One. Two's been the highest. That's why we doubted.”

  “We don't doubt any more,” Five said. “She's authentic. We're believers.”

  “She didn't even hesitate,” Four said. “She took us out before we could move, then not only got the distant bulbs, she did them in a second apiece. No time at all for aiming. That's laser genius.”

  “And in between, the thrown bulb,” Three said. “A moving target. We can't do that except by luck.”

  “You must be proud to be her companion,” Four said.

  Orion suppressed his own awe at the performance. “Yes. Now the mission.”

  “Hostage,” Three said. “Bank. They swear to execute a person every hour if the police don't capitulate, starting at noon.”

  Orion glanced at his watch. It was eleven thirty. “We'd better get over there.”

  “Taxi's waiting.”

  Naturally they used a taxi rather than a limo, for the low profile.

  Supe and Pira returned, and they bundled into the taxi: Supe, Pira, Three, and Orion. Pira looked at him. “Hostage. Bank,” he said. “Noon deadline before they kill a hostage.”

  Now she quailed. “I don't want to kill anyone.”

  Orion thought fast. It was always better to find a way to defuse an issue, if possible. “You don't have to. Orient on his gun. Heat the trigger burning hot so he can't fire. Then the police will nab him.”

  “I can do that,” she agreed, relieved.

  “Brilliant!” Three said, glancing at Orion with increased respect.

  Supe shook her head. “Such precision. One of ours would have to fry his brain, which is chancy. If we hadn't seen her perform...”

  They arrived at the bank, which was cordoned off by the police. “We're the team,” Supe told the sergeant gruffl
y. The man evidently knew her, and passed them through without question.

  It was five minutes to noon. They entered the main waiting room. “She's the one,” Supe told the negotiator.

  He saw only a child. “But--”

  “Believe it.”

  A ragged man emerged from a back room, holding a terrified young woman. She was pretty, which was probably why she had been selected for this ordeal: to encourage capitulation. He put a gun to her head. “You think I'm bluffing?” he demanded belligerently.

  Then his face contorted in pain. He dropped the gun. “Ow!”

  Two riot policemen charged across the room and grabbed him. The hostage fainted.

  The siege was over.

  “I'll be damned,” the sergeant said.

  “Why kill him, when we want to question him and put him on trial?” Supe asked rhetorically. She was plainly reveling in the scene.

  The hostage woman recovered and asked to see her savior. “She's a civilian. She'll go public,” Supe said. “We can't have that.”

  But the woman was already upon them. “You saved me!” she said to Orion, flinging herself upon him and kissing him. She had a cute face and a full bosom, both of which compelled his attention as they pressed against him.

  “Take it,” Pira whispered.

  He appreciated the logic: he was a decoy, keeping Pira secret, at least from the public eye. “All in the line of duty, ma-am,” Orion replied smoothly.

  “But how did you do it? I saw you look at him; then he dropped the gun.”

  “We have a—a device that heated the gun so he couldn't hold on to it. I didn't do it myself; I merely distracted his attention so he didn't know what we were doing. That's not important; what counts is that you are safe.”

  “Safe, thanks to you.” She eyed him speculatively. “You're handsome. Are you single?”

  Uh-oh. “Not exactly, ma-am. I have to look out for my ward.” He indicated Pira, who arranged to look even younger than usual. “She's a handful.”

  “Oh. Still--”

  “We're just passing through. We won't be staying here. But it was nice meeting you, ma-am, and we're glad you're safe.”

  “This way,” Supe said imperatively, cutting off any further dialogue. They left the pretty woman behind, frustrated.

  “Nicely played,” Supe murmured.

  “I'm a handful?” Pira demanded.

  He put on a mock frown. “You think its fun towing a rebellious child?”

  She looked ready to explode, then caught on and laughed.

  “You get time off until the next call,” Supe said as they rode back to the warehouse. “You really came through for us. We'll put you up at a fine second rate motel and you can tour the town.”

  Second rate, again to avoid public attention. It made sense.

  Supe glanced at them shrewdly, and Orion realized that she had picked up on Pira's crush on him, and his need to keep the girl in order. An ability like hers had to be carefully managed. “Have a ball. Or just sack out for a few days.”

  “Yeah,” Pira agreed. “The sack.”

  “Next time, say you have to visit the ladies' room, not pee,” Orion murmured.

  “Supe already told me that.”

  Back at the warehouse Four greeted them. “The confirmation came through. She's legit.”

  “Now they tell us,” Supe said. Then they all laughed.

  In the hotel room, Pira was all a-flurry, now that she could finally relax. “That was great! But it wouldn't have been if I'd had to fry his brains. You fixed it so nobody got hurt.”

  “I think that's my job.”

  “That, and to keep me from being too much of a girl dog.”

  There was an uncomfortable element of truth there. “You did come through, Pira, for the demo and the crisis.”

  “The hostage got to kiss you and glue her boobs to you. My turn.” Now that they were alone, her private boldness was back in full force.

  He knew better than to deny her that much. He hugged her close and kissed her. “But we don't need to make a habit of this.”

  “Damn.” Then she brightened. “But at least I can show you my ass. I'm all cold sweat; I need to take a bath.” She started undressing, and he couldn't object. He was supposed to watch her all the time, and hold her harness when she wasn't wearing it. She got out of it and handed it to him.

  “I'd better wash this off too,” he said, dipping a washcloth in the sink and wringing it out. He knew better than to immerse an electronic device in water.

  Naked, she bent over to start filling the tub. “Oh—plug it in.”

  He stared at her exposed bottom. “What?”

  “The harness, silly. I used a lot of power today; it needs recharging.”

  “Oh.” He finished wiping it off and found its recharge plug.

  “Had you going there, didn't I,” she said, satisfied.

  “You're a regular little tease.”

  “Right now I'm high on reaction. I'll try to tone it down another day. But you know I really do need you, and not just to handle adults.” She climbed into the tub while it continued to fill.

  “I know.”

  “If I—if I go too far, get too smart mouthed, just shut me down with a word of reprimand. I'll obey you.”

  He considered briefly. “Pira, I think you need to unwind in your own fashion. Part of the reason you're vamping me is that you know I won't take advantage of it.”

  “Damn,” she muttered. “He caught on.”

  When she finished her bath he wrapped a towel around her and dried her off. Then he stripped and stepped into the same bath. “I'm sweaty too.”

  She smiled. “I guess turnabout is fair play. I can't give you your privacy any more than you can give me mine.” She studied his body intently. “But I wish I could make three years pass in an instant. You've got everything I want in a man, and I wish I could have it now.”

  “You were looking at my groin.”

  “Well, I showed you mine.”

  The harness soon recharged and she put it back on. Now they were no longer tethered to the bathroom.

  In due course they ordered a room-service supper. Then they watched a sanitary cable show, and he let her hold his hand.

  Then, out of nowhere, she dissolved into tears. He put his arms about her and held her close. It was the reaction he had been waiting for, the final surrender to the tensions she had held off all day.

  “Thank you,” she murmured into his shoulder.

  They did share the bed that night. This was awkward, because they had to travel light; they had no pajamas. He slept in his underpants, she in her panties and T-shirt that descended low enough on her to resemble a nightie. She lay half astride him, pausing to see if he protested. He did not.

  “You can put your hand on my ass if you want to,” she said.

  “Of course I want to.” But he did not do it. She was so tired that she slept immediately, perhaps not noticing. If she did notice, did she get the message?

  But he did put his hand on her back, over the harness. Now he felt something. It was a subtle, odd pulsing, rhythmic but not a heartbeat. What was it? After a moment he realized that it was the harness. It was providing its power to her hands, ready for use at any time. It was like a living thing, a symbiote.

  They had survived their first day on the job. They had both performed well. If it continued no worse than this, it should be all right. If only he could be certain of that.

  5

  Dance

  He woke in the morning to find her lying there looking at him. “Hello Pira,” he said.

  “Did we do anything last night?”

  He knew what she meant. “Not a thing.”

  “Damn.” But she looked relieved. No matter how strongly she came on, she didn't really want to transgress the essential boundaries.

  “Come on. I have to pee. I mean, visit the ladies' room.”

  “Why didn't you do it when you woke?”

  “Because the bat
hroom's over ten feet away, so I shouldn't go there alone, and I didn't want to wake you. You're cute when you sleep.”

  Now he remembered: they had taken turns on the pot last night, he while she bathed, she while he bathed, thus staying close enough to each other and the harness. He had been distracted by other things and hadn't really noticed. This was another lost privacy. “Sorry about that,” he said, sitting up and swinging his feet off the bed.

  “It's okay. I like looking at you. But you do snore.”

  “And you don't?”

  “Not as loudly.” She jumped off the bed and scooted around him to reach the bathroom first. She hoisted her nightie and plumped her bottom down on the seat. In a moment he heard the swish of her urination.

  When she was done, he took his turn, sitting on the pot.

  “Don't you do it standing up? I thought all men did, when they didn't have to poop.”

  “Two reasons why not,” he said. “First, it can be messy indoors; a person's aim isn't always perfect at night. I don't want to mess up the seat or the floor. Second, you're watching.”

  “So? I saw your penis last night.”

  “You didn't see it pissing. That's different. Maybe you have seen the hardware, but the software is more private.”

  “Okay. But how about when we're married. Will it be okay for me to see you piss then?”

  He remained carefully neutral. “Yes, if you want to.”

  “Gee, you didn't say we won't be married.”

  “I don't want to argue with you about it. The fact that I don't challenge everything you say doesn't necessarily mean I agree with it.”

  “I've got three years to win you over. That should be enough.”

  “That and your mature body, when,” he agreed.

  In the morning they washed out their used clothing and ran it through the dryer. Orion had only one change of shirt and trousers, and those were readily washable, while Pira had shirt and skirt, plus a single light dress. Even their shoes were feather light. They were limited to what they could carry on a plane in not-too-heavy bags, and they normally remained packed, ready to move in minutes.

  They had lunch at a salad bar, sticking to wholesome foods. Pira did not protest, to his surprise; she had been raised healthy and didn't fight it.