by J. R. Rain
“Freeze!”
They froze. Men appeared from their hiding places. “Oh, crap!” The Bull muttered. “It’s a trap.”
So it seemed. But why hadn’t she located the men mentally? She had been scanning constantly.
Then she remembered what Brookstone had said: compartmentalization. They had walled off what they were really doing, and she hadn’t thought to check all the compartments. She had been an idiot.
Worse, some of them were animen, who had been similarly hidden. Damn! Now they stood in a circle around the two of them, and they were armed. Any false move would make them pile in.
Armed? As she checked their minds more closely she realized that there were no guns here, only knives or other weapons. And she knew why: the president’s wife had forbidden firearms on the “yot.” More power to her! But that did not mean that these men were not formidable.
All she could do now was to try to alert the president openly. “We have to see the president,” she said loudly. Though she did not move physically, she was busy both heating her core for action and enlarging her breasts and hips to make a sexier presentation in the tight wetsuit. Every little thing could make a difference, especially when dealing with men.
The head man gazed at her evenly. “Why?”
It was clear there would be no reasoning with him; his mind showed it. Also, these men were under orders to capture the intruders alive. Why? The men did not know, but would obey to the best of their ability. The leader, appreciating her growing sexiness, hoped to get to rape her the moment it was allowed. He did not understand her full nature. She was going to enjoy burning him to a crisp.
Now she realized also that there had to have been a telepath involved. Just as she had been scanning mentally for animen, the telepath would have been scanning for her, while remaining out of her mental sight. So her arrival with The Bull had been no surprise, and they had walked blithely into the trap. It was a lesson for the future, if there was one: learn to detect any telepathic scanning that touched her.
But now they had to act.
To the president’s cabin, she thought to The Bull. Now!
Then she said aloud: “Mark Twain.”
The animen stood unmoving, fighting their internal battles. They were out of the fray. That reduced the odds at the outset.
Meanwhile The Bull leaped into action so swiftly that even these trained men were caught off guard. His horns and fists hurled them left and right. Meanwhile, Lavender simply charged forward, picking up the squad leader and flung him overboard. He had not anticipated anything like that from this pretty girl with the swelling bosom. Her core power was stronger than any man or woman’s. Another reason she was a good fit for The Bull.
A man emerged from the president’s cabin. It was the president himself! She knew him from his pictures on the media.
“Mister President!” she cried. “You are in great danger!”
“Oh, I doubt it,” he said, eyeing her torso.
“Do not go near your bathroom—”
She broke off, reading his mind. They were too late.
This was the clone.
Chapter 19: Submersible
“Mr. President,” I said, not sure what the protocol here was. I almost reached out for his hand, then nearly bowed. In fact, I did a little of both. No doubt looking foolish.
“Give it a rest, Horny,” said Lavender. “He’s a fake.”
The faux president bowed. “I would say all the way down to my fingertips, but that’s not quite accurate, for even a clone’s fingertips will vary from the original. But everything else is nearly identical.”
“All of which will help you launch the nuclear weapons,” said Lavender.
The clone bowed. Lord, but he looked just like President Walton. “But how?” I asked. “President Walton was only elected, what, three years ago? How could a clone exist so quickly? I mean, don’t they have to, you know, grow up?”
Lavender turned to me. “We really don’t have time for this, Bull. I’ve scanned the clone’s mind, and I can ascertain he’s only a few years old. In fact, barely over a year.”
“I don’t understand—”
“You can thank Villainous’s advances in technology for that. Not only has he perfected cloning humans—which isn’t that difficult to do—but he has created the ability to do so quickly. The clone before us has limited intelligence. In fact, he knows only what he has been trained. Correction. He is being operated by a distant mind.”
“What the devil does that mean?”
“He’s being remote controlled.”
“I need a beer.”
“Focus, Bull,” said Lavender. “You can drink later, when all of this is over.”
“And if we survive.”
“That goes without saying,” said Lavender. “First things first, we need to know where the real president is. You,” she said to the fake. “Where are you keeping President Walton?”
“I don’t answer to you, bitch.”
“No, you don’t. And your mind is blank. Bull, throw him in the ocean. Feed him to the sharks.”
“With pleasure,” I said, and picked him up by the scruff of his neck, feeling an odd sense of fear and guilt grip me. After all, he looked so much like the real president. At the railing, I paused. “Are we sure he’s a fake?”
“I’m sure.”
“Then here goes.”
“Wait!” screamed the fake.
“Wait for what?” asked Lavender, who came up to my side. Behind her, I heard growls and gnashing of teeth, and claws clamoring over the wooden deck. The animen, who had been out of earshot before, were more animal than men, and they were fighting it out on deck. I don’t know how Noah did it.
“The clone knows nothing,” he said, in a voice that suddenly sounded a little higher pitched. “Please put him down.”
“Do no such thing, Bull,” said Lavender. “Who are we speaking to?”
There was a short pause. The man weighed close to two hundred pounds. For me, that might as well have been next to nothing. I could hold him over the railing all day if I had to.
“I am Villainous,” said the voice through the faux president.
“You are controlling the president?” asked Lavender.
“I control many of my creations.”
“You don’t control The Bull,” said Lavender.
“No, and that is unfortunate. He ended up being a real pain in the ass.”
“Hey,” I said.
“Where’s the president?” asked Lavender. “The real president?”
“He’s needed elsewhere. The clone is just for show, of course. His fingerprints or retinal scan won’t unlock the nuclear codes. Only the real president can launch a nuclear attack. And he will, too, whether he wants to or not.”
Elsewhere on the ship, I heard crashing and growling and the sounds of feasting. The animen were really going at it. A part of me wanted to jump in there, and join the fray. The animal part of me, that is.
Lavender put a hand on my arm. “I scanned the ship. The secret service agents are being held below decks. Many of them are wounded. The one I have connected to understands that before the nuclear bombs can be launched, the president must be positively identified. The United States has a two-man rule in place, and while only the president can order the release of nuclear weapons, the order must be confirmed by the Secretary of Defense.”
“You are a powerful telepath, my dear,” said the fake president dangling from my grip. “I could use you.”
“For what?” asked Lavender, surprising me.
“To help rule our new world.”
“There won’t be much of it left once the bombs go off.”
“Not much above ground, dear girl. But I am building a Utopia below. Far, far below, where it will be safe, and where your kind will thrive.”
“My kind?”
“Yes, Lava girl.”
“And what of the humans?” she asked, surprising me further. I sure as hell wis
hed I could dip into her mind to see what she was up to. But she was the telepath. I was just the muscle.
“They will be removed, of course. Humans are a plague to this earth.”
“And yet you propose to wipe the earth clean of all life, not just humans.”
“Like a forest fire consumes the dead log, a nuclear holocaust will give the earth a chance to renew.”
“In thousands of years,” said Lavender.
The president continued dangling over the railing of the ship. He had given up fighting me and now hung there, watching Lavender with interest.
“Oh, it will be more than a thousand. But what’s a few thousand years to this planet? Once the radiation has decayed, life can begin anew. As we watch from below.”
“And you will be dead many times over.”
The president laughed in my hands, sounding just like the real president. So weird. “My dear, I have created life. I have created new species. What makes you think I haven’t conquered death as well? Everyone in my world will live for as long as they wish. Reborn over and over again into fantastic new bodies. Stronger bodies. Join us, Lavender.”
“I’m interested,” she said, and I turned and stared at her.
She looked at me and shrugged. “We should at least hear the guy out.”
“You mean, just before he kills us?”
The president laughed in my arms, following this conversation. And for all I knew, Villainous was following my thoughts too, and Lavender’s. Which meant...
Which meant the bastard was nearby.
“Of course I’m nearby, Bull,” said the president. “Now, if you’ll put me down, you’ll find a submersible on the starboard side of the ship. Yes, that means the other side of the ship. You missed it coming in from the port side of the ship. You will find your president in there.”
“And you too?” asked Lavender.
“Of course. We’ve been waiting for you.”
Chapter 20: Templa
Lavender thought fast, doing her best to shield her thoughts from the telepath she knew had to be close by, maybe with Villainous. But she needed more. Maybe The Bull could help.
“Grab my ass,” she murmured to him.
“Huh?” He knew she wasn’t naive about his interest, but she had always discouraged public displays of it.
“Now.”
He was confused, but happy to obey. He put down the clone and took hold of her right buttock and squeezed. His mind plunged into a maelstrom of sexual aspiration.
“You must have an interesting personal relationship,” the clone said, licking his lips. The sight made him wish for something similar. He was, after all, male. They were like cookie cutters in this respect.
“Yeah,” said The Bull. “She’s some doll.”
Now there was so much sexual tension that any telepathic contact with their minds should be hopelessly compromised. That and her shield should suffice for long enough.
Lavender sent a thought to the two lava folk. Vital message.
Transmit.
“Mark Twain stops animen.” Send it to all volcanoes, to tell humans, unless I tell them not to every 24 hours.
Done. They did not question her meaning or her reasoning, knowing from her background mind that this was serious business.
That was it. Thank you.
She returned to the immediate scene. “Now let go,” she murmured.
The Bull reluctantly obeyed, knowing that she had her reasons in this department too. The sexual tempest eased.
“I presume there was a point to that little display,” the clone/Villainous said.
Now it could be told. “Yes. To block out your telepath while I sent the following message to all volcanoes: ‘Mark Twain stops animen.’ If I do not counter it every day, it will go out to the human realm. Should I become incapacitated or die in the interim, it will be broadcast, and you will lose your animen. That will likely complicate your program, Mr. V.”
“You took out an insurance policy.”
“What else? It isn’t as though we trust each other.”
The man gazed at her. “Damn. I like your style.”
“I don’t like yours. Now let’s adjourn to your sub to negotiate.”
He smiled. “This way,” the clone said, leading them to the starboard, which was the right side of the yacht when facing forward. There was the sub, nestling close, its top hatch open. “Sorry I can’t join you, but it’s a private meeting.”
They jumped across and climbed single file down the ladder into the sub. The hatch closed, shutting them in. They were in a small modestly illuminated chamber. Subs weren’t known for spaciousness or for wasted power.
A svelte young woman appeared. She wore long blond hair, a tight blouse, and a very short skirt. “Hello, Bull and Lavender. I am Templa.”
“The telepath!” Lavender exclaimed, surprised. It was right there in the woman’s mind. The Bull just looked, as she was an eyeful.
Templa smiled. “You were looking for a male, lava girl. Mistake.”
“Mistake,” Lavender agreed. She had missed the obvious again, by limiting her focus to one gender. But she could tell that this woman’s powers of mind reading and projection were significantly beyond her own. That was another reason Lavender had missed her: she was better at hiding. She was dangerous.
“We are meeting under truce,” Templa said. “Agreed?”
Was there a choice? “Agreed,” Lavender said, and The Bull nodded, his eyes locked on the woman’s torso. Lavender was annoyed that his interest was so readily invoked, but what could she say? He was male.
“This way.” Templa turned, providing The Bull a view of her pert rear, and led them to a larger chamber where two figures waited in comfortable chairs.
The enemy was throwing curves at them, in more than one sense. Both Lavender and The Bull had been unbalanced, albeit for different reasons. There were certainly rough seas ahead.
“Welcome, visitors.” He was a big, powerful bear of a man with white hair. Villainous was the merged man and polar bear. The other man was the real President Walton. “Take your seats.”
Lavender and The Bull sat. “The president appreciates your coming,” Villainous said. “He hopes you will somehow free him and save humanity, but he doubts your ability to do so.” Lavender read the truth of that in the president’s mind. He was a thoroughly experienced politician, a realist, who understood the odds against him. Knowing himself to be powerless, he was lying low.
Then Templa took the last seat, opposite them, her skirt not even trying to cover her thighs. “Three of us present are not telepathic,” she said, meaning the three males. “Therefore I will translate as necessary.”
“You’re human!” The Bull said, his eyes not quite reaching the level of her face.
Her lips quirked. “You noticed. To answer your questions, yes I am to be spared the holocaust. I am Villainous’s girlfriend. I am also the leading telepath of the vicinity. It is a business and social relationship. But Vil is not the jealous type, should you be minded to join our cause. I happen to like animen.” She smiled at The Bull, who shifted uncomfortably.
“Let’s get on to business,” Lavender snapped. She was aware that if Templa succeeded in distracting The Bull sufficiently, Lavender would be on her own. Villainous might even use him as a lever against her. There were levels and levels.
True. Lavender almost jumped. That was Templa’s projected thought.
“First, the tour,” Villainous said smoothly.
“Tour?” Lavender asked, surprised again.
“I will show you Utopia. You need to appreciate what we offer.”
“You offer disaster.”
“Hardly. Unrestrained humanity offers the disaster. It will not govern itself for the sake of reason. It needs to be stopped before the world is completely ruined for the future of life itself.”
“He has a point, Lavender,” Templa said. “You know it.”
And she could read Lavender’s mind to ve
rify it. He did have a point.
Still, she fought. “Humanity has its flaws, and some are huge,” she conceded. “It needs to be corrected, not destroyed.”
“Books have been published on the subject,” Villainous said. “Movies have been made and shown. Scientists are overwhelmingly aware. Common sense shows that the human course is wrong. Yet the destruction continues. It will soon enough wipe out most other species, and then mankind itself. Man is doomed. My proposal merely takes man out of the picture while something else remains to be saved. It is, by grim analogy, like a lone man getting to end himself before pointless and hideously expensive medical procedures wipe out all his assets and needlessly impoverish his family. He is being sensible; it is the larger society that is mad.”
“You know—” The Bull started.
“Grab my ass,” Lavender said, hoping to shut him up.
“Or mine,” Templa said. “I will let you talk freely, animan.”
The Bull remained loyal to Lavender, but Templa’s offer was tempting. He wished he could somehow be allowed to grab both.
And Templa knew it, salaciously reading his mind at the same time Lavender was. She did know what interested animen. Villainous was making progress with The Bull by focusing on his weakness.
“She’s full human,” Lavender murmured. “Your unbridled passion would kill her.”
Templa winced, now reading Lavender’s mind. What The Bull considered fondling, anyone else would consider mayhem. “True,” she said regretfully.
There was a bump. “And we are here,” Villainous said grandly.
“Where?” The Bull asked.
“Utopia,” the president said. “It is impressive.”
“You’ve seen it?”
“Templa projected it to my mind. It’s like a total immersion internet game.”
Lavender was becoming increasingly wary of Templa. But something bothered her: so far it seemed as if Lavender herself were the object of their persuasion, rather than The Bull. Did that make sense?