Shockball

by S. L. Viehl

  Knowing my creator, he’d be waiting in the formal dining room for me, so that’s where I headed. I’d watched him input the access code to the lift, so I knew I could get back down into the facility. All I had to do was disable him long enough to get Reever on a gurney, up and out of the mansion, and into a glidecar.

  Piece of cake.

  Joseph had changed into his party tuxedo, a sober-looking affair that made him look like a penguin. I refrained from pointing that out as I took my place at the table. Might as well give him a few minutes to savor the triumph I was about to take away from him.

  “You remembered how I like your hair,” he said, surprising me.

  It was down so it hid the bulges in the scarf around my neck. “I’m glad you like it. What’s for dinner?”

  “Summer quail with raisin-oyster stuffing.”

  “Oh, boy.” I controlled a wince. “My favorite.”

  The kitchen drone delivered our meal in short order, and I spent a few minutes pushing quail around my plate while Joe lectured me on his new transplantation techniques. If I closed my eyes, I could have gone back in time three years, and found myself doing the same thing, only pushing bits of lobster while he gave me a mini-seminar on bowel resections.

  “Tell me something,” I said, interrupting his oration. “What would you do if you found out I’m sterile?”

  “You’re not.” He cut up his quail the same way he operated on Reever—with precise, absolute accuracy. As he sampled the meat, I finally recognized the gruesome side to our profession. “You were ovulating the day I brought you here.”

  Ovulating, yes. Able to reproduce, no. Why had he missed that? “What about my immune system?”

  “I’ve taken that into consideration. After my personal insemination, specific genetic adjustments, and a regime of immuno-suppressants should protect the fetus for the duration of your pregnancy.”

  “Really.” I gave up the pretense of eating and drank some of the red wine he’d poured for me. A California merlot, one of his favorites. It resembled congealed blood in color, and old sterilizer solution in taste. “Far as I know, my immune system will render anything inert and useless. You’d better go with the in vitro method.”

  He actually reached out and put his hand on mine. “I do not plan to use artificial insemination.”

  I dragged my hand away. “I doubt you could implant a gestating zygote …” I stopped, and reconsidered his statement. “When you said personally impregnate me, you mean personally? As in having intercourse?”

  “Yes.”

  I dropped my fork. I tried to say something. Nothing came out. I took a deep drink of the lousy merlot.

  “I didn’t create you simply to be the perfect physician and human.” He placed his utensils down and flattened his hands against the table. Like he was bracing himself.

  I needed some bracing, too, and quickly downed the rest of the merlot. “You—”

  “I created you to be my wife.”

  PART THREE

  Consanguinity

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Not To Be Trusted

  Everything I had never understood about my creator for the last twenty-nine years abruptly snapped into stunning, nauseating clarity. I must have sat there in silence for a full five minutes as I saw my entire existence turn upside down.

  He’d made me to be his wife.

  I’d misjudged the motives behind everything he’d done. He’d programmed me genetically. He’d taught me to obey him. he’d isolated me from other men. He’d convinced me to take up his profession. He’d instilled in me some, if not all, of the values he held sacred.

  Not because he’d wanted to be a good father.

  When I’d left him, he let me go only so far. He had allowed me my alien experience on K-2, to test my immune system and to instill in me the hatred of non-humans he had. Only it had gone all wrong. I’d become fascinated with aliens. I’d even fallen in love with one. I’d refused to come back to him.

  Of course he’d come after me with a vengeance. Not because he was being a good father, or he considered me a lab rat.

  He’d made himself a mate, and he wanted her back. Panic set in. I shoved my chair back away from the table and got up. “You’re sick.”

  He came after me. Slowly, with great poise and dignity.

  “I have been training you to take your place at my side since you were born. You are an accomplished surgeon who can understand and share in my work. You have been brought up to appreciate the finer aspects of Terran existence, unsullied by alien cultural pollutants. You were physically engineered to be an attractive female and a highly responsive partner.”

  He’d tinkered with that? “Stop. Stay away from me.”

  He did stop. “I designed you to be the perfect woman for me. This is your destiny, Cherijo.”

  “You made me so you could mate with yourself,” I said, and saw him extend a hand. “Don’t touch me. Unless you want to pull back a bloody stump.”

  “Think of what we will do together.” He smiled a little as he watched my face. “As husband and wife, we will produce the children who will chart the genetic future of the human race. We will continue my research and resolve the threat to our way of life. It will be an incredible journey for both of us.”

  He was completely insane. “Incest is still against the law.”

  “You’re not my daughter, or my sister. Only a sentient being qualifies as such, under Terran law.”

  “So you made sure I wouldn’t meet the specifications.”

  “Naturally, there will be no officially recognized union between us. I have no need for the bonds of marriage. You are my property.”

  “Your own little brood mare.”

  “You cannot become pregnant with an alien’s child. Only a Terran can breed with you. That is why the World Government consented to my proposal thirty years ago. You and I will have children who cannot be corrupted by alien DNA. Their children, like you, will be unable to crossbreed, thus preserving our heritage forever.”

  I’d always known my creator was brilliant, and narcissistic, but this went way beyond the worst megalomania. Somehow, he’d convinced himself that he was God, and it was time to rewrite Genesis.

  Even scarier, he might just pull it off.

  “I see.” I centered my weight on my feet. The calm Xonea had taught me to seek inside myself settled over me. You had to be calm to beat the daylights out of someone. “Is that all you have planned for me and the human race?”

  “We can discuss it in more detail, as long as you cooperate. If you resist, I will have the drones attend to your linguist friend.” He took my cold hand in his. “Shall I signal them now?”

  We stood like that for a minute. Joseph had rarely touched me when I was a child. Now I had the final puzzle piece. And I could use it.

  “You’re in love with me.”

  He jerked, then tightened his fingers.

  “That’s why you never bothered getting married.” Hard to fake the bewildered wonder in my voice, but I managed. “It was always me, wasn’t it?”

  “My only personal inconvenience was waiting for you to mature.” More sure of me now, he led me back to the table. “I felt the result merited the effort. No other man could match your intellect, potential, or talent. No other woman would suit me, for the same reasons. In time, you will come to understand.”

  I’d walk into the backwash of a starshuttle discharge vent first. Time. I needed to buy a little more time. I waited as he pulled out my chair, then I sat down.

  “Why didn’t you raise me to regard you as a lover instead of a father? You could have saved yourself ten, maybe twenty years of frustration. Not to mention all those inconvenient explanations to your colleagues and friends.”

  “I am not a pedophile.” He said that as though it made everything all better, and took his seat. “I required a valid reason to be involved in every facet of your childhood and adolescence, both in public and private situations. I’d hoped you’d
naturally gravitate toward me as you went through puberty, but when it became apparent you preferred to pour your passion into your work, I was willing to delay the inevitable.” He offered me another glass of merlot.

  “No, thank you.” After this night, I’d never be able to drink wine again. He wanted to talk clinical, we’d talk clinical. “What about my psychological reaction to the prospect of incest?”

  “The potential damage was an acceptable risk. You’re a highly intelligent woman. Once I explained my rationale, I felt confident you would accept the change in our relationship. You accepted everything else I required of you.”

  That I had, idiot that I’d been. Why hadn’t I ever picked up on this? “But the blackmail sure comes in handy, doesn’t it?”

  “It does.” He finished his quail. “You have been controlling your temper admirably. What I have to say to you now will be difficult for you to accept, but it is important to start out with complete understanding.”

  If he thought it was going to be tough to listen to, I was positive I didn’t want to hear it. I needed just a few more minutes. “Knock yourself out.”

  “You have an emotional attachment to the linguist, which I would not have permitted, had you been living here. I had no control over your choices after you left Kevarzangia Two, much to my regret, but I anticipated this happening. As a result, congress with me initially may be unpleasant for you at first. Until such time as you feel willing to participate, I will provide you with tranquilizers.”

  He was going to drug me before he raped me. Only Joe could make that sound logical. I refused the dessert offered by the serving drone. “You can’t drug me into submission forever.”

  “You will adjust in time. Loss of control and ability to surrender to a familial authority figure is a common sexual fantasy among otherwise dominant women.”

  He’d even managed to make rape sound respectable. “You have the research to back that up?”

  He nodded, then frowned. “Your hatred of me was a concern, at first. I failed to take into account your penchant for independence and competitiveness. All that will be corrected as our relationship progresses to the next level.”

  “So you think eventually I’ll kick off my footgear, incubate your child, and take up permanent residence in the food prep area?” A faint odor reached my nose, and I sniffed. “Just like that?”

  “One area we will need to work on is your irreverent speech patterns. I tolerated them when Margaret was alive, but they are extremely annoying.”

  “Why not cut out my vocal cords? Then you don’t have to listen to anything.” My internal time clock and the smell said it was just about time, so I got to my feet. “Can we cut to the chase?”

  “I suggest—”

  Whatever he was going to suggest fell to the wayside as the household thermal sensors went off. Several staff drones rushed in, displays blinking, alarms chiming.

  “Dr. Joseph, a room console in the east wing was cross-wired, and set fire to the bed linens draped over it.”

  My creator gave me a furious look. “You gave me your word.”

  “I told you I’d cooperate.” I studied the deplorable condition of my fingernails. “I didn’t say a thing about avoiding arson.”

  “Keep her here. Send all maintenance drones to put out the blaze.” Joe put down his wineglass and gave me his famous disappointed look. “I’ll deal with the linguist myself.”

  I picked up a knife from the table. “No, you won’t.”

  I could have disabled him. I certainly would have, if twenty screaming, knife-carrying Indians hadn’t burst into the dining room at that exact moment.

  Two worlds collided right in front of my eyes.

  Faces smeared with colored pigments, bare chests gleaming under the chandelier optics, the Indians charged at me, Joseph, and the drones like the front line at a shockball game. Chairs went flying and smashed against the embossed floral wall coverings. The long dining room table was upended, and the remnants of our meal scattered.

  They got to me first. I didn’t resist when someone’s strong arm snatched me off my feet and I was carried to an out-of-the-way corner. By then I’d realized it was the Night Horse players I’d treated, evidently sent to rescue me.

  Polished metallic drones tried to fend them off, with static discharges, which didn’t even faze the shockball-hardened athletes. The drones ended up hitting the walls and being reduced to jumbles of components.

  I peered around Small Fox’s arm to see what had happened to Joseph. He was already gagged and tied to a chair. The Indians circled around him, jabbing at him with their knives and screaming insults.

  Then the dark man walked in, and everyone fell silent.

  “How is it one of the blood lives like a whiteskin, alone in an enormous hogan filled with objects obtained by his greed?”

  Rico bent down and picked up a piece of quail from the floor. He sniffed at it, then tossed it back down.

  “He eats the whiteskins’ food.” He came over to Joseph and inspected him. “He cuts his hair and wears the whiteskins’ clothes. This is not the way.”

  “He is not blood,” Small Fox muttered.

  “But he says he is.” The chief bent over my creator, who was staring at him, wide-eyed. “He takes the blood for his own.”

  Joseph strained against his bonds, his gaze bouncing from Rico’s face to mine. He looked quite uncharacteristically terrified.

  Rico, in contrast, seemed almost serene as he pulled a blade from his belt and tested the edge. “His life should belong to those he has wronged.”

  I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to see the chief slit another throat, but I couldn’t think of a single good reason to stop him from killing Joe.

  Things got even more complicated when Rico strode over and held it out to me. “Here. His life is yours.”

  I took the knife. So it would be my decision. Killing him would solve a lot of problems. Nearly all of mine. It would keep him from wreaking havoc on the future of the human race. Then I thought of the hypercellular procedure, and the fact Joseph had never been able to recreate me.

  I handed the knife back to the chief. “No.”

  “He is the one who hunts you.” With a single jab, Rico buried the knife in the highly polished surface of the dining room table. “End it now, or you will look over your shoulder forever.”

  I shook my head. “Thanks, but I have to leave. I’m going to get Reever.” I started for the lab.

  “You’re coming with us.” The chief nodded to Milass and Hawk, who grabbed my arms.

  My heart started pounding out of control. I couldn’t leave Reever here. Joe would dissect him alive, an inch at a time, out of spite. “If you want me as your cutter, my husband goes with us.”

  Rico mulled this over for a moment. “If he comes back, he comes as one of us.”

  “Fine.” Reever wouldn’t care if he had to pretend to join the tribe.

  I walked over to my creator. He was still struggling, trying to free himself. I bent over so my words were for him alone.

  “Before I go, I want to thank you for saving Reever. I love him. My life would have very little meaning without him. We have the rest of our lives to be together. You made that possible.” I moved around so he could look into my eyes, so he could see my hatred and disgust. “That’s the only reason I’m not using that blade on you.”

  On the way to the lab, a few more drones got in the way. The players mowed them down. Once we stepped onto the lift and descended into the research facility, the men began congratulating each other and comparing whatever they’d swiped from the mansion.

  “You should have killed him.”

  I looked at the small man behind me. Milass had painted his entire face black, and was wearing Joseph’s dinner jacket. “There are plenty of people in that category.”

  The little twerp grinned, his small teeth white against the paint. “Any time you wish, woman.”

  We got off the lift, to be greeted by t
he thermal sensors triggering an alarm. A virtual barricade of maintenance drones rushed toward the lift. It took the Indians a little longer to plow through this line. At one point, I picked up a dismembered extensor unit and started hammering on a couple myself.

  Felt pretty good to be beating the components out of something.

  I led the Night Horse through the resulting pile of fizzling bodies to the lab and Reever. The sight of the malformed fetuses in the embryonic chambers seemed to mesmerize the Indians, who shuffled back and muttered some things to each other.

  Reever, who was semiconscious, was still too weak to travel under his own power. “We’ll need to rig a litter to carry him. I also need to take some equipment and supplies with me.” Including all the antibiotics I could get my hands on.

  “This place smells of whiteskin trickery,” Milass said. “We should take nothing from here.”

  I ignored him and finished redressing Reever’s torso brace. Only when I went into Research and Development to load up a medical case did the little twerp get nasty.

  “No.” He appropriated the case and flung it across the lab. “You will not bring evil spirits into Leyaneyaniteh.”

  “Get lost.” When he didn’t, I looked for Rico. He had followed us in and was over by the embryonic chambers, studying one of the specimens. “Chief? I need to take these supplies for Medical. Call off your deranged midget.”

  The chief regarded me, then his secondario. “Why do you object, Milass?”

  My nemesis spat on the spotless floor. “She will curse us with the Shaman’s trickery.”

  “Make an effort and don’t be stupid for once.” I showed Rico the syrinpress units and surgical supplies. “These are things we need down there.”

  “Take what you can carry, patcher,” Rico said at last.

  That wasn’t going to be much. I cleaned out Joseph’s stocks of antibiotics and confiscated some lightweight instruments. One of the hybrids had some mild cardiac damage from the syphilis infection, so I added a couple of biomechanical replacement units to my pack, in the event his condition worsened.