by S. L. Viehl
The outcasts descended on Rico and Joseph. I watched how carefully they disarmed him, the way they lifted him out from under Joseph’s body. For a moment, I thought the worst, until I saw the look on Ilona’s face.
“No.” Even knowing the depths of his depravity and insanity, I couldn’t condemn my brother. He’d been a victim of the grandfather of all monsters. “Ilona, he needs to be hospitalized.”
“He has done enough, patcher. Even you said you could not cure him. That he will never get better.” Ilona knelt beside Milass’s headless corpse. She placed her hand on his chest. “He killed my brother, didn’t he? Yet Milass was always loyal to him. He would never disobey Rico. He loved him.”
I hadn’t known Milass was Ilona’s brother. That explained a lot.
She sighed, then got to her feet. “This is our chief, our problem. Let us deal with it in our way.”
Rico was screaming and demanding the outcasts obey and release him. The pistol disappeared into someone’s pocket. Then he was silenced by a dozen hands, clamping over his nose, mouth, and throat. The last thing I saw was him swallowed into the center of the tight circle of bodies, his eyes wide and unblinking.
I couldn’t stop them, couldn’t process what was happening. All I could do was think of Duncan. “Ilona, I have to get out of here.”
“We will take care of them, patcher. Go.”
I put on my helmet and went out to the sidelines, in time to see the Gliders’ defense leave the field and the offensive team trot out to take their positions. The scoreboard remained at zero on both sides.
Reever had heard me.
I walked up to one of the players I knew. “How much time remaining?”
“Two minutes before interval end.” Small Fox glanced at me and his eyes widened. “Patcher? Is that you? What are you doing here?”
Beyond us, Ilona and the outcasts silently vacated the equipment pit and returned to the spectators’ stands.
I hoped that now, at last, our brothers were at peace. “I had to talk to Rico.”
Ilona went over to a security drone and said something. The drone immediately buzzed past me and entered the pit. A minute later more drones descended on the sidelines. They’d be notifying arena security about the dead bodies any moment.
I adjusted my helmet. I had to do it now.
A drone intercepted me as I started toward the field. “You were seen going into the equipment pit with the dead man. Security wishes to interview you about the nature of his demise.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, keeping my voice low and rough. “Can’t this wait until after the game?”
“Do not leave the arena,” the official warned me.
I saw the drones carrying the bodies out of the pit. My brother was dead. My creator was dead.
My husband was going to live.
I hid behind an equipment rack to do what I needed, then emerged with my new face. When the interval clock sounded the one-minute warning, the Gliders lined up for the last play.
This was it. My last chance.
There was only one person who could walk onto the field and not be automatically stopped by the officials. Knowing that, I headed for my husband.
A drone buzzed in front to me. “The team owner must not disrupt the game—”
“I’m just going to have a word with my players,” I said, in a low growly tone. “One minute.”
Confused, the official rolled back out of the way. My Rico-mask worked, but only for a moment. Someone must have identified Rico’s body, because a horde of drones left the sidelines and headed for me. At the same time, the play was called, and the sphere put into motion.
I had fifty meters to cover before I could get to Reever, who was heading directly for the touchzone, so I ran.
I ran the way Xonea had taught me, with fast, long strides that pulled at the muscles in my legs. If we survived this, I was going to be sore as hell.
Duncan!
Reever looked over, saw me. His face turned to stone and he kicked the sphere into play.
He thought I was Rico. I peeled off my Lok-Teel mask. Duncan! Stop!
Reever worked the sphere toward the wide white line. But why? Then I remembered the drones carrying the bodies out. He must have thought Milass’s headless corpse was mine.
My husband was trying to commit suicide.
“Duncan!” I screamed. Then, with every bit of mental ferocity I could put behind it, I repeated the call in my head. Duncan! Stop!
A few inches from his goal, Reever suddenly came to a halt and looked over his shoulder at me. I glimpsed the interval clock. Twenty seconds left. I held out my arms.
Pass it to me now.
Cherijo?
Just give it to me! I screamed in my mind.
He almost fell, then bent and scooped up the sphere. The crowd shrieked with rage and got to their feet. My ears rang as the noise increased with every step I took.
Reever threw the sphere to me just as the interval clock ran out. I caught it and went down, holding it against the ground with my body.
Gliders helped me to my feet. The game computer registered five penalties on the player’s board, all charged to Reever. A drone announced them as they were listed.
“Illegal pass. Illegal reception. Illegal number of players on the field. Illegal assumption of position.”
Another drone buzzed near me. “Release the sphere. Penalties must be discharged.”
There was no way in hell I was letting go. If I did, the sphere would act like a homing device, go directly to Reever, and kill him. I turned, and ran for the sidelines. I’d drop the sphere into the nearest bucket of water I could find. Hopefully that would short out the triggering device.
I hadn’t counted on the efficiency of the game computer, or the rule that stated if a non-penalized player refused to release the sphere, they had to take the jolts instead.
The first jolt hit me like a sledgehammer. I staggered and nearly fell, then righted myself. Five penalties, like that? That wasn’t too bad. I could handle that.
The second jolt was harder, and longer. This time I did go down, on both knees. The bioelectrical charge stabbed up through my hands and sent arrows of bright pain through my arms. Only when the jolt ended was I able to get up and keep going.
I could hear the other players running after me. A drone got in my path and I jumped over it. Thirty meters and three more penalties to go. I ran over to the sidelines, hoping that would stop the charges. Players lunged to get out of my way. Couldn’t blame them—if I touched any of them, they’d get a taste of the penalty jolts, too.
“Cherijo!”
I don’t know if it was Reever’s voice or the third jolt that knocked me off my feet. I went flying, body writhing uncontrollably, and landed on the spectators’ side of the retaining wall. When I stopped twitching, a couple of furious fans heaved me back over and onto the field.
I sat up in time to get penalty number four, which sent me into convulsions. Vague images of players surrounded my burning field of vision. Someone was yelling my name. Two men held a third back.
My immune system was good, but would it hold up under the increasing strength of the shocks?
Well, you’re going to find out, aren’t you, smartass?
Maggie stood over me, and held out her hand.
“Come on, get up. The next one won’t be for another ten seconds.”
I cringed and rolled away. “Don’t touch me. Someone will take it away.”
“Baby, ten seconds in your world is about ten hours here.” She took the sphere away from me and tucked it under her arm. “Damn stupid game. We thought these people were civilized, until we saw one of these sporting exhibitions.” She made a clucking sound as she dusted off my uniform. “Really ruined the theory you evolved from primates for me.”
“Primates? Evolved?”
“Yeah, well, Terran primates are a lot more sensible than homo sapiens. Don’t go calling them family.” She su
rveyed me. “So you saved Reever and everyone who had the lousy idea of building houses on top of a shifting tectonic plate. Proud of yourself?”
“What do you want?”
“What I always wanted. You get the discs?” I nodded. “Good girl. Now you take them, and Reever, and get off this planet. There are star charts contained in one of the discs, you’ll be able to use them to get to Jxinok. It’s easy to find even if you can’t decipher the star charts. Go to Oenrall—”
“Dhreen’s world?”
“Yeah, Dhreen’s world. Once you get there, take a left at the second moon.”
“Juh-zin-ock?” I tried out the word. “That the name of your homeworld?”
“Bingo.”
I was beyond exhausted, and hurting, and she was worried about giving me directions. “And what am I supposed to do when I get there?”
“You’ll find out all the answers on Jxinok.” She looked around at the arena. Everyone around us was frozen, as if time stood still. I finally understood that here, with Maggie, it did.
“Will I see you there?”
She looked down at herself and laughed. “No, little girl. I’m dead. All you see are some memories I gave you.”
“Interactive memories.”
“I was an interactive kind of gal.”
“Did you know about Jericho?”
She stopped smiling. “Yeah, I did. I was the one who got him out of there.”
“What about the others? Jericho said they all survived.”
“They did. If you could call it that.” Maggie turned, and suddenly we were back at Joseph’s underground facility, in the Research and Development room. A group of dark-haired boys sat playing a game. They ranged in age from three to twelve. One of them had a particularly chilling smile.
Rico and his eight brothers. My eight brothers.
“Jericho was almost a success,” Maggie said. “The only problem was his immune system didn’t work right. And the fact Joe had turned him into a full-blown sociopath by the time he was four.”
I began noticing something was physically wrong with each of the other boys. One had a deformed head, another possessed withered legs. “What about the others?”
“Some he put out for adoption. Two had to be institutionalized. By the time you came along, they were almost all gone. All except Rid and Rig. They stayed and eventually became his research assistants. Rid’s in Mendocino. Rig’s out cruising with the League boys.”
Joseph was dead. Who remained behind? “Are any of them still at the estate?”
“No. They were moved as soon as you got old enough to wander around the mansion. It doesn’t matter.”
“It doesn’t matter?” I whirled around. “They’re my brothers. My family.”
“They were raised like laboratory rats, Cherijo. Most of them don’t have the personality of a drone on auto-replay.”
“You two made sure I wouldn’t ever find out.”
“You met Jericho, wasn’t he enough?”
Jericho, who like me had only wanted our father to love him. A few genes’ difference, and I might have ended up chief of the Night Horse. “Go away, Maggie.”
“I will. When you tell me you’re going to Jxinok.”
“I’ll go to your damn homeworld. Satisfied?”
“Oh, no, baby. The dead are never satisfied.” She straightened my jersey and dusted off my helmet. Then she pinched my cheek. “But getting you there, yeah, that will do, for now.”
Someone helped me to my feet, and led me out onto the field. It was a drone official, moving me away from the crowd. Everyone had fallen silent.
“We cannot disable the game computer,” the official was saying. “If you do not release the sphere, you will die.”
Even now, if I released the sphere, it would automatically seek out Duncan. I wasn’t going to let that happen. Going out on the field was to protect everyone else, I realized. I stumbled along, ears ringing, vision blurring.
Jericho was dead. Joseph was dead. I clutched the hot sphere tighter between my palms. They were dead, but Reever would live.
The official checked the player’s board. “The last penalty shall be administered in five, four, three …”
The hysterical crowd chanted down the clock, then suddenly hushed. Behind me, a woman screamed. Everyone was on their feet, looking up at a lone figure, standing on the edge of the highest tier of seats.
Another crazy fan, determined to have the best view. What a game.
The final, lethal jolt hit me. It knocked me flat on my back. The alloy between my hands began to glow a dull red. I clenched my chattering teeth and endured the charge, holding the sphere up, high above my head, so everyone could see.
Look at me. Watch me burn.
I forgot about the pain when I saw the lone figure leap out into space, and fall. Thousands of voices shrieked their shock and horror as the figure hurtled down toward me and certain death.
As I twisted and writhed, so did the figure. Was it some kind of poltergeist, suffering with me, burning with me? No, it was tearing off its outer clothes. Another dark-haired twin who arched up and at the last moment spread out his two enormous, gleaming black wings.
Hawk.
I watched my friend as he broke his own fall and turned it into a slow, graceful glide. No one moved or made a sound, so I could hear his wings beating against the air currents. It sounded like a heartbeat.
Then someone started to chant, “Gliders, Gliders, Gliders!”
More voices chimed in, and soon everyone was chanting the word. For a hunchback who had turned into an avatar. The black-winged Glider of New Angeles myth. Now Hawk had revealed his secret, not only to his tribe, but to everyone on Terra. I was proud of him.
I let my head fall back once I saw he could sustain his flight, and let the pain roll through me. My teeth screeched against each other. The flesh on the insides of my hands began to smoke.
“Cherijo!”
Hawk swooped down and grabbed me, plucking the sphere from my hands at the same time. He was wearing some kind of insulation gear, so the jolt didn’t affect him. His talons crushed the sphere before dropping it, then he folded me against his chest.
“Reever,” I managed to say.
“Look.” Hawk hovered, and pointed. On the other side of the field, Dhreen was helping Reever, Ilona, and the cats into a glidecar he’d landed on the sidelines. “Are you ready to go now?”
Oh yeah, I was ready. I nodded and held on.
Hawk flew up and out of the arena, and glided above the regular traffic lanes. I looked down and saw Dhreen following us below. They weren’t the only ones.
“League troop units,” I said. “They’re coming after us.”
“They’ll have to get through the Night Horse first.”
I watched as several glidecars deliberately smashed into the troop vehicles, disabling them. The faint sound of Indian voices hooting with triumph made me smile. “You guys are handy to have around when someone wants to escape.” I looked up into his dark face. “But I thought you were staying.”
“I can’t now.” Hawk smiled. “You forced my hand, you know.”
“I did nothing of the sort. This was all your idea.” I grinned, painfully. “But you made one hell of a sphere-down, pal.”
Hawk flew until we were over some deserted agricultural fields, then finally glided down to the ground. He grimaced as he set me on my feet and folded his wings.
“I know those exercises you showed me how to do strengthen them, but they still hurt every time I fly.”
“Keep at it.” I inspected the spinal junctions, where his wings were connected to his back. I would have felt them, but my hands were too burned to use. “You’re using muscles that you’ve been binding down for years. The atrophy was the biggest problem, and that’s gone. In time, they’ll stop aching and you’ll be able to fly longer.”
“Not on Terra.” He reached back and touched the top of one wing, stroking the short black feathers covering it
. “At least now I won’t have to pluck these out of my chest anymore.”
Or face having his wings amputated to better pass as Terran, I guessed. That must have been why he’d never told Rico or any of the other Night Horse.
“See? And you thought Small Fox had problems.” I looked around. “Any particular reason you decided to stop here, other than getting tired of hauling me around?”
“We’re expected.” He nodded toward a nearby line of trees.
I walked with him to the edge of the field, and saw Dhreen and Reever waiting for us. Both of them were holding a very disgruntled cat in their arms. Beyond them was another, smaller clearing, and a large object covered with brush.
Reever handed Jenner to Hawk, then pulled me into his arms. “You shouldn’t have done it.” He kissed me, hard and angry.
As soon as he let me up for air, I smiled. “What, and let you get fried? Who has the superior immune system around here?” I snuggled against him, exhausted but happy. “I was so scared.”
“I was frightened, too.” He kissed the top of my head. “Now we must leave, or the League will catch up to us.”
“Is that big heap under those branches over there what I think it is?”
“Dhreen’s starshuttle.”
I looked at the Oenrallian pilot. “You mean Dhreen’s stolen starshuttle.”
Dhreen shrugged and wrapped his arm around Ilona. “As long as it maintains a stable flightshield, what does it matter?”
We all went to the shuttle and boarded. It was a Terran flagship, a luxurious craft that planetary officials used to transport League dignitaries. It definitely would be missed.
We all elected to stay at the helm, and strapped in. I jumped when a dark-haired woman walked into the cabin.
“Ilona? You’re coming with us?”
“Yes.” She smiled and sat down beside me. “Dhreen is very clever, isn’t he?”
“Yeah.” I eyed our pilot. “He’s just full of surprises.”
Hawk was having trouble with his harness, so I leaned over and clipped him in. He was sweating and staring at the viewport.
“Don’t be nervous. Dhreen has survived out in space for years. He probably doesn’t even know how many crashes he’s walked away from.”
Hawk’s wings folded around him like a cloak. “That does not give me a great deal of confidence.”