The Ophiuchi Hotline

by John Varley

  "I think you lost me again," she said, tiredly. More than anything, she wanted to go back to sleep. Her head was throbbing, and the voices sounded fuzzy. "What year is it, did you say?"

  Cathay sighed, which irked Lilo and made it harder than ever for her to believe what he had told her. The story was incredible enough without having to believe her dead clone had loved this man.

  But Parameter went on with infinite patience.

  "The year is 571, the month of Capricorn. You were arrested in Sagittarius, 568, and executed one year later. That is, your clone was executed, according to Cathay. The original Lilo lived for a short time after that, then she was killed, too. A second clone—apparently already prepared, if the times are to add up right—"

  "That's Tweed's standard procedure," Cathay put in.

  "Yes. The second clone was killed escaping, like the original Lilo. The third clone was sent to Jupiter, where she met Cathay and was—"

  "Yes, yes, I remember that part all right," Lilo said. Actually she did not want to hear someone say again that she had been killed. The details of her clone's adventures on Poseidon were murky to her. That could be straightened out later.

  "Now, why the.... It seems like I should have been awakened here sooner. What happened?"

  Parameter paused, seeming to sense that Lilo was disturbed by the story.

  "Maybe we should let you get some rest before we go on."

  Lilo looked up. Parameter/Solstice was a comic figure, a human sculpted by a child out of green Silly Putty. The only visible part of Parameter's body was her mouth, from which Solstice had retracted so her partner could speak to the others. The figure had bulging hips, a narrow waist, and no neck; just a huge lump of Solstice's body that covered the head and shoulders. But Lilo was not laughing. Unlike most humans, she was a little in awe of the perfect symmetry they represented.

  "No, go on. I'll rest later. But thanks."

  "Very well. You're in a clone body; you knew that and you expected it. But it isn't the clone body you left behind seven years ago, when you set up this station. That one died."

  "What? Why?"

  "Are you sure you want to go on? I can see this is upsetting you."

  There was nothing she wanted more than sleep, but she was determined to plow on. It was important to know the extent of the situation, frightening though it might be.

  "We don't know why, really. When we arrived, it was dead. You said that might happen, but you didn't say what to do. We went over our discussions with you and concluded we had agreed to awaken you. The trick was in defining what that meant. We decided we had an obligation to produce another clone, and awaken it. We weren't very experienced with your machines, so the waking up was a problem, I fear..."

  "No, don't worry. You did very well, considering. So I'm the second one. Let's see, with the three that were grown on Luna, and my original body, that makes—"

  "I'm afraid not," Parameter said. "We studied the problem carefully before we started growing another clone, but I guess we had to learn as we went along. The second clone was a failure. It died when we tried to awaken it. You're the third. Cathay helped. He arrived here three months ago."

  "By now," Cathay added, "there's certainly another clone of you on its way to Poseidon."

  Lilo crouched over the computer console. Five days had passed since her awakening and she was feeling much better, physically. Careful exercise had strengthened her muscles, though she knew she was still far from full health.

  The capsule was getting too damn small. Not that Parameter/Solstice took up much room; they seemed content to stay in one spot all day; they didn't move just to be in motion. But Cathay was another story.

  She took a perverse satisfaction in the fact that she disliked Cathay. It had shaken her to hear him tell of Tweed's methods for ensuring the loyalty of his agents. It was not pleasant to hear that she could be so predictable. But the last Lilo had liked this man, or so he said. Perhaps she had even loved him. Well, goddam it, this Lilo did not.

  "Can't we at least talk about it some more?" he said, quietly. "Nothing is solved by your being like this."

  "There's nothing to solve, as far as I'm concerned." She was at the computer on the pretext of finding out what had gone wrong with her first two clones raised in the capsule. Actually, she was too angry to concentrate on the figures that flew by on her screen. She was there so she could turn her back on him.

  "You're really going through with it." He sounded as tired as she felt. Relenting for a moment, she realized it must be hard for him, too. He remembered her clone. He'd had a relationship with her, before her death. Now Lilo had changed that picture.

  "Yes, I am. You haven't given me any alternative, because—"

  "It's the chance to save a lot of people who mattered to you... I take that back. They would matter to you, if you met them."

  "Damn it, you could say that about half the human race! Think what you're asking me to do. Okay, it sounds cold, but the fact is these people are nothing to me."

  "Not even your clone? There'll be another there by now."

  "Yes," she whispered, angrily. "You've kept reminding me of that, haven't you? But she is not me. I have no more obligation to her than to anyone else. I feel sorry for her. But frankly, the thought of meeting her makes my skin crawl." She turned back to her console and sighed. All right, she thought, one more time. Then if he doesn't drop the subject I'm going to kick his ass out the lock.

  "I've admitted that the thought of taking that moon and leaving the whole damn system attracts me. It's an insane idea, but it's radical enough to solve all my problems—if it works. You've given me no reason to think it will. You're asking me to risk my life—which I have gone to extraordinary lengths to preserve—on the longest gamble I ever heard of. You tell me that isn't so."

  Cathay was silent. He would never look at her when she got to this point, and she knew that meant he agreed with her.

  "I'm not disputing that the drive would work. I know it has in the past. I'm saying that with the security you've described to me... with this... this Vaffa thing, this obscenity that pretends to be a human being—and a dozen of them..." She couldn't go on. The situation he had described to her on Poseidon was so utterly repulsive. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves.

  "You tell me how we can get around Vaffa and set up the drive. Then I'll consider what you suggest."

  "The other Lilo..." Cathay trailed off. "Well, she was talking in terms of laser rifles. If we could attack them indoors, when their suits are off—"

  "I've never fired one. Have you?"

  "No," he admitted miserably. He glanced up at her. His look told her that she was not the Lilo he had known. Well, she had been trying to tell him that for days. After several awkward minutes of silence he got up and went outside to be alone.

  "I've fired one," Parameter said, suddenly.

  "Have you?" Lilo asked. She wondered what had prompted the statement. Parameter seldom spoke for no reason. "Are you a good shot?"

  "The best," Solstice said. When Solstice used Parameter's vocal cords to speak, she used a lower-pitched voice. It was startling until you got used to it. "I never miss. My reflexes and powers of calculation are much better than human."

  "I know that. But would that make a difference? Would you be able to kill ail the guards before they got you?"

  "No."

  "I didn't think so. Face it, we're outnumbered. I'll bet each one of those monsters is almost as good as you are. And Cathay and I would be useless."

  "Yes." The pair was quiet, but Lilo suspected they were conversing with each other rapidly. It should be interesting when they got through. She was not disappointed.

  "It's possible," Parameter said.

  "Yeah? You as much as said a fight would be hopeless."

  "We never said that. We said we could not win a battle with laser rifles. We've thought of another approach. We won't be going, of course. There's nothing in interstellar space to interest a
pair. Not enough sunlight."

  "Obviously." Lilo sighed, and rubbed her fingers through her hair. She winced, and massaged her arm. She was still subject to cramps and spells of weakness. "Well, I'll admit there's no other alternative that attracts me. I had some vague idea of... well, of pairing and going out into the Rings. That's what I had in mind when I set up this station. Not that it's actually happened, though... I mean, now that I'm actually living in a clone body..."

  "You're afraid," Parameter finished. "I'm not surprised."

  "I'm sorry."

  Parameter laughed. "Don't worry about my feelings. I'm quite used to the fact that most humans are afraid of pairing."

  "I had planned to do it... "

  "...but you hadn't thought it out enough. No, it's not for you. That is, it would be right for you, but you'll never see it that way. I knew that a long time ago."

  Lilo knew Parameter was right. It was a sobering realization. With all the trouble Lilo had gone to, setting up the life-capsule station in the Rings to ensure her survival if she was caught in her illegal experimentation, she had not really thought hard about where she would go when she was revived. She had contented herself with vague thoughts of living in the Rings as a pair. There were no laws in the Rings; never had been and never would be.

  But what other place was there for her to go? None of the Eight Worlds would have her; as soon as her genotype was detected she would be arrested and sentenced to the same fate as her original self had met.

  She was an outlaw. And out there, circling Jupiter, was a world of outlaws in the same fix she was in.

  "You said it's possible," she said, cautiously.

  Parameter's exposed mouth grinned.

  "You're a groundcrawler at heart, Lilo. You think in terms of hand-to-hand combat, even though you know nothing about it. Get your head out of the tunnels. We're talking about moving a world, taking it right out of the solar system. You have to think big."

  12

  STARLINE LTD.

  TOPSECRET; AAA RATINGS ONLY

  SUBJECT: OPHIUCHI HOTLINE TRANSMISSION OF 1249 HOURS 44.3 SECONDS UT, 8/14/570.

  TRANSLATION FOLLOWS: (PROBABILITY WEIGHTED)

  FOR (A PERIOD OF TIME: CONJECTURE: 400 EARTH YEARS?) DATA HAS BEEN SENT. NEW SUBSCRIBERS (43%) ARE GIVEN A (UNTRANSLATABLE) TO ADJUST. YOUR TIME PERIOD IS EXPIRED (TERMINATED?) (EXTENDED?). PLEASE REMIT THE (BALANCE DUE?) (REMAINDER?) OR FACE TERMINATION (45%) OF SERVICE. YOUR ACCOUNT (22%) WILL BE REFERRED (45%) TO A (UNTRANSLATABLE). SEND PAYMENT (30%) IN THE FORM OF (UNTRANSLATABLE) IN THE NEXT (PERIOD OF TIME: CONJECTURE: 10 EARTH YEARS?). CREDIT (58%) IS AVAILABLE TO (NEW?) (OLD?) STRUGGLING LIFE-FORMS. SEVERE PENALTIES, SEVERE PENALTIES, SEVERE PENALTIES (97%).

  ENDS.

  MESSAGE REPEATS THIRTY TIMES.

  TOTAL BITS: APPROX. 2.3 X 108

  Gold.

  The memory and premonition of yellow gold.

  Somewhere was a forest under a blue sun.

  The face was still there when she woke up, still smiling. Lilo smiled back, glad that it was over.

  "Not so fast," Mari said, lightly. "I have to unhook you first, and close you up."

  Something was different. She looked again, and realized it was the background. Something behind Mari's face had changed.

  It was the trees. They had been green, and now the branches were bare.

  They trained her. She had a lot of time to brood about her situation. It was hard to believe that the year was now 571, that it had been two years since Mari had recorded her in the clearing.

  Tweed had shown her his frightening script. He had now seen her revived three times in the same place. Three. She heard the story of how her original self had tried to escape soon after being set free from the Institute, and how she died. Tweed had pictures. She knew how her first clone, Lilo 2, had died. Then there was Lilo 3, who killed Mari and was herself caught and killed. No one would tell her what had happened to Lilo 4, but she must have been the smartest of the bunch. Or the most intimidated. She had lasted a year.

  She was Lilo 5. (And what of the life capsule in the Rings? Was there a number six stirring?)

  She intended to be very careful.

  They put her on a ship bound for Titan with the female Vaffa and a man called Iphis.

  The ship was three days out of Luna when the signal came from Tweed. Lilo wasn't allowed to see it; Iphis and Vaffa took the decoded message and went to the bridge. She could hear angry voices, the loudest belonging to Iphis. Something about schedules, missing the other ship, and reaction mass. But when they came out it was clear who had won. Iphis was glowering, and it seemed like a good time to stay out of his way. Vaffa was her usual imperturbable self, with perhaps a touch more ice around the eyes.

  It seemed they were diverting to Mars.

  Vaffa wanted to talk to Lilo. She had a rather direct way of letting her know; she grabbed her by the ankle and towed her like a toy balloon.

  "We're stopping on Mars long enough to catch the high-gee run to Pluto," Vaffa said, after locking Lilo and herself in the small sleeping area.

  "How interesting."

  "Yes." She looked thoughtful, relaxed. Then she exploded. Lilo found herself strapped to an acceleration couch with Vaffa's face very close to hers. Her cheek hurt terribly, and she tasted blood in her mouth.

  "Yes," Vaffa said, again. "Interesting." She did not look interested. If anything, she was distracted. Lilo had learned that Vaffa was not exceptionally bright, and that she seldom had doubts to resolve. Now she had a problem, and was working it out to her satisfaction. Lilo felt something cool and hard against her throat, and forced herself to swallow.

  "The Boss says there's an emergency," Vaffa went on. "I have to go look into it, and he wants you along, too. I know why. There'll be a problem to solve out there, and I'm not so good at that. So you'll be solving it, and I'll be watching you."

  "Listen," Lilo said, keeping her voice low. "Surely you can handle it. I'd be happy to stay locked in the ship and out of trouble until you—"

  It was only the slightest increase of pressure on her neck, but suddenly she could not breathe.

  "No. We'll do it the way the Boss says. I'm supposed to make sure you don't get away. We'll be meeting someone else who's supposed to help me, but I'll have to watch him, too. I want you to know I've studied the character profile the Boss made of you. I know pretty well how you think."

  "I believe you—"

  She grabbed the straps on each side of Lilo and placed her knee on the hard bone between Lilo's breasts. She pulled, and pressed with her knee.

  "I won't say anything against the Boss," she said, pressing a little harder. "But I think he puts too much faith in those profiles. I thought you might be easier to control if you feared me more than you do."

  "Vaffa, I fear you already, honestly, I don't know when—" But Vaffa motioned her into silence with a slight movement of her head. For the first time, her brow wrinkled slightly. This was proving to be a tough problem.

  "I thought you would fear me if I amputated your arm or leg without turning off your nerve centers. I have the skill to save your life and restore the limb, but it would involve more pain than you've ever imagined. Would that persuade you to behave?"

  Lilo was amazed to realize that it was a sincere question, one that Vaffa really wanted her opinion on.

  "No. No... I, Vaffa, I don't know. Please don't do it. I... I think it's more likely I'd just hate you more." She didn't know what else to say. To her extreme relief, Vaffa was nodding.

  "I thought of killing you now. I might lie to the Boss, but... no, I don't think I could. I'll make a threat, then. I think that if you try to escape from me, I have a good chance of catching you. If you do manage to get free, I'll certainly devote all my time to getting you back. Here's the threat. If I catch you, I'll take a very long time killing you."

  "I understand that."

  Vaffa was still puzzling over it. She massaged the shiny skin on her scalp, and eased the pressure on L
ilo's chest. Lilo breathed a little easier. Finally Vaffa unbuckled her and let her get up. She grabbed Lilo's head, not roughly, and made her look into her eyes.

  "I want you to swear to me that you will not try to escape while we're on Pluto. I appeal to your honor."

  "What happens if I won't swear? You kill me now, and tell Tweed I was escaping?"

  Vaffa looked surprised, and slightly offended. "No. I won't harm you further, no matter what happens, unless you try to escape. I'm not threatening you to make you swear. A promise made under duress is not binding." She stated it like a natural law of the universe.

  "All right. I swear I won't try to escape on Pluto."

  They sealed the oath in blood, of all things. Making the cut in her own palm without deadening her nerves was one of the most courageous things Lilo had ever done.

  It wasn't until later that Lilo realized how childlike the whole thing had been. Was a solemn oath enough to bind her to Vaffa when the stakes were her life and freedom? She didn't see how it could be, but the question troubled her more than she was willing to admit.

  Later, Vaffa turned to Lilo in the dim light of the sleeping room. Iphis was snoring.

  "We've got to talk." Lilo had been afraid Vaffa wanted to cop again. While Lilo got along well sexually with Iphis, Vaffa frightened her. They moved out into the tiny freefall gym.

  "You should read this first." Vaffa handed her a sheet of faxpaper. It was covered with code groups, and under them was a messy translation in Vaffa's seismographic writing. Lilo noted the StarLine name, and the Topsecret, AAA rating.

  "I don't know where the Boss got it," Vaffa volunteered. "He has his sources."

  Lilo read it through, then again, carefully. She was familiar with the weighting system used in decoding Hotline transmissions. Often the Hotline signal, after traveling seventeen light-years, was considerably garbled. But that couldn't be the case here, not with thirty repeats. So the uncertainty attached to key words was the result of the computer's lack of context for a good translation.