Jare and Pratt were groping Roy’o and laughing like maniacs from too much Benzo-Ritalin. The gyno on Lill’s lap slipped to the carpet.
Lill shook her head, looked around, and thought: Mother! This is clitted-out childless!
Before she was halfway up the aisle, her warriors were behind her, the half-passed-out gynos under their arms.
The outside air hit like a stone. Lill reeled and backed into the wall. “Where we takin’ ’em?” Jare shouted.
“Find a transpo’,” another one said, and whistled for a transport driver.
The gypsumania lights were tawdry, the air fetid.
“C’mon, Lill.” Pratt said. “We got us some serious sportin’ to do.”
“Naaa! You go. I’ll walk.”
Before she had gone a half dozen steps, a hand was on her shoulder.
“Captain Lill!”
She looked into the cowl-darkened face.
“You find us another unwilling gyno?” Jare was yelling from the back of the transport.
“Go ahead.”
“Captain Lill,” the voice inside the cowl repeated. Lill recognized it, as well as the bunched cape over one shoulder to hide the missing breast.
Lill saluted as sharply as she could, reeled a bit, and said, “Yes, ma’am.”
“Captain Lill!” Pratt shouted out. “Are you tight?”
“No. I’m loose!” Lill shouted back. “It’s someone I know.”
“Ask her if she can get us Benzo-Ritalin!” Jare yelled, her words twisted as the transport took off.
“Sorry, ma’am.” Lill was coming to full attention.
“No apology needed. They’re all good warriors. We’re going to talk as soon as you’re clearheaded.”
“Is this about ... Am I being called up to the front?”
“Would you like that, Lill?”
“Mor’n anything, ma’am.”
“Melisande’s Pax Maternica got you a little down?”
“It’s not that.” Lill wouldn’t criticize the MC. “I keep telling my women, they’ll need us when the time comes.”
She was aware that they had moved from one conveyance belt to another rapidly, without her noticing, and were now approaching Kundry Park.
“Are you wondering what a Black Chrys. like myself is doing here?” Thol asked her as they reached a clearing, and the senior warrior stepped off the belt and onto the grass.
“I have no idea, ma’am.”
“Well, I’m doing the same as you are. Waiting around on Melisande for the MC to make up its collective anile mind what to do! Don’t worry, no one can hear us – I put up a sound shield,” she added quickly. “Lill, I want to know what you think about this war.”
“I don’t understand why we haven’t beaten them. We’ve locked all the damned rebel tincans inside a single sector and ... I mean I understand about Hume and Arthropod populations in the way and all. But ... it can be done surgically, too!”
Thol had thrown back her cowl. She glowered darkly.
“I agree! So does the leadership of the Chrys. So does half the MC Fleet. High and low. MC says it’s a suicide mission. I say, so what? I’m pushing four-twenty. Let’s go in there, burn ’em all out, and who knows, get some glory out of it! MC still says no.”
“I say yes!” Lill agreed.
“You’re only two-ten? Two-twenty?”
“I’m a warrior, ma’am. So are my women. We need to see action.”
“What if I got you in the sky and near the front?” Thol began and immediately interrupted herself. “Don’t say anything ‘til I’m done. What if I did that? What kind of loyalty can I count on?”
“I’m not a Cultist.”
“Not yet. But we’ve had our eye on you for some time, Lill.”
That was a surprise. Lill didn’t have the lineage, the MC connections, nor the elegance of the usual Cult nominees.
“What if I told you that Wicca Herself agrees with me?” Thol went on. “That She would like to see a quiet, efficient little mutiny at the front and a bold surgical move to bite the heads off all the bad little tincans.”
“But the council –”
“Is controlled politically. We both know it. What we’re planning would be done before it could be stopped. The MC will bitch, but they’ll accept it. Think about it, Lill. Let me know tomorrow this time at Isolde Station if you’ll accept a nomination for the Cult.”
Which, following this conversation, meant whether Thol could count on her to follow the other Cultists unquestioningly if they acted without MC control.
“And if I choose not to, ma’am?”
“You’ll report to a Cult Mesmer for a small wipe, so this conversation is eradicated from your memory.”
That made sense.
“Will your answer be no, Captain Lill?”
“I don’t believe so, ma’am.”
It was Gigigue who brought the woman into the communal ion-bath, but from the very first Ewa felt a special connection with her.
Because it was Tri-Sol midday and most women and their spouses were at their avocations, there were only three others with Ewa at the floating pads – besides Ewa’s clever feline Helix – on the top floor of the Maybelle Residence when Gigigue arrived with the guest.
She introduced the newcomer as Maly’a something-or-other, and the two stripped down immediately and found pads. Ewa and Helix were playing with an Maglev-frisb, the clever animal very concentrated as it hopped from empty pad to empty pad to get at the pesky object, when the two women settled themselves, crossed their legs in lotus position, and levitated. Helix jumped and landed right in Maly’a’s lap.
“She’s beautiful?” Maly’a stroked the cat. “Is she genetically altered?”
“Yes. She was a gift from my prime-spouse,” Ewa said, feeling as though she ought to be blushing: the woman had looked directly at her when asking the question.
Helix had been purring as she glided silkily along the Maly’a’s bare limbs. The frisb sailed past, and the feline looked at it with a combination of interest and frustration.
“You’ll never catch it.” Ewa said.
“I know,” the cat meowed back.
“How clever!” Maly’a said. “What’s your name, lovely one?”
The feline slipped back into her lap and looked up at the woman through her stalwart-looking breasts. “Helix!” it meowed.
“You’re marvelous!”
The cat licked Maly’a’s thigh. Then its eye caught the frisb, and it jumped lithely to the next empty pad.
“Her mental age is early neonate,” Ewa said, “and her vocabulary is only about four hundred words.” She stared fondly at the animal, now poised to slap at the frisb. “But she certainly lets a woman know what she wants,” she added. “Despite that, everyone in Maybelle is fond of her.”
“Naturally.”
“I’ve heard of Electra World gen. alt. animals with midneonate mentalities,” Gigigue kept the conversation going. “But, of course, they require special care. Not everyone can keep them.”
The conversation moved from gen. alt. animals to the new Eudora
World fashion for living cosmetic tattoos, to topics all the women knew: prime-spouse avocations, trine-spouse spending habits, life without intelligent Cybers, the Maglev Marathon to be held along the greensward from Bronte to Bovary Parks.
Ewa looked at Maly’a and came to several tentative conclusions. First, although the woman was clearly middle-aged (say, three-sixty, three-eighty) and had evidently undergone at least two complete cosmetic surgeries, with their accompanying soporo-treatments, Maly’a was as young as the other women in spirit.
That suggested a contented life, which in turn suggested a successful avocation. Something aesthetic or philological, perhaps. On the other hand, Maly’a’s extreme comfort and poise and ability to fit in with a group of strangers suggested a more public avocation, administrative or, who knew, even in the MC itself. Whatever it was, Maly’a was undoubtedly special.
Which was why Ewa joined Gigigue and her guest when they were ready to leave the ion-bath, and why she let Ricia take Helix downstairs while Ewa slipped on a chemise and joined the others on the rooftop garden for a Stele ’Choi, the latest drink fad in Benefica City.
Which was also why Ewa remained with Maly’a on the rooftop and ordered a second S&C when Gigigue left, and why Ewa was not at all surprised when Maly’a suddenly said, “I understand you’ve been thwarted by the Pop. Zero program.”
“Does it show that much?”
“Not at all. Your resentment quotient seems barely existent. Gigigue told me before. You don’t mind, do you? I specifically asked her about friends who had been troubled by the program.”
“Well, then you know it all.” Ewa put a brave face on it. “At least I’m among the first on the list when the rule is rescinded.”
“Do you know when that will be?”
“I spoke to Health Councilor Rinne a few evenings ago. She assured me the Program was only temporary.”
“But she didn’t give you a rescind date?”
“Do you know the date?”
“Why would –”
Ewa interrupted, “Because you’re interested in the effect of the Pop. Zero program on ordinary women. I think you’re also an MC Official.”
“Am?” Maly’a asked. “Or was? I’m retired. But you’re partly right. I am interested. In fact, I represent a philanthropic institution which has managed to produce a sort of counterbalance to Pop. Zero.” She waited.
“Meaning?”
“Although we naturally understand the motives of the MC, we don’t necessarily agree with them in this matter. Especially as regards to firsts. You are, are you not – and I hope you won’t be offended if I use the word in its original and not in its pejorative sense – childless?”
Now Ewa did blush: years of Ed. & Dev. taunts coming home to embarrass her. “I’m only ninety-five. I have plenty of time!”
“And your spouses?”
“My prime is two-twenty. Already had her ‘brood,’ as she calls it. My trine’s ninety-seven. He was part of my last gyne-group at Murasaki U. We just remained together,” she added with a shrug.
“I know how it can be with males. You become habituated to their company,” Maly’a sympathized. “But let’s face it: it’s our primes whom we live for. Yet your prime doesn’t necessarily want a child?”
“She’s fond of both of us. She’ll do what we want. Offer her genes and all.”
“Well, that’s positive!” Maly’a said. “About your trine spouse. Would he be willing to leave his avocation on Benefica for a few days Sol Rad. for the siring? For that matter, would you be willing to leave Benefica for a matter of months. Both spouses would be able to visit frequently via Fast.”
Ewa wondered if she had missed something. “Leave Benefica for where?”
“Deneb XII. That’s where the program is located.”
This was awfully sudden. “Will Rali Ha’go be in the program, too?”
“Only firsts. Gigigue told me you liked travel, said you’d been to the Altair System satellites recently. They’re a bit primitive, no?”
“A bit. No Fasts. We had to use SLp.G flight throughout the system. It took forever to get anywhere. Still, it was restful and it was more time than I’d spent with my prime in a good while. She’s a history buff.”
“How long were you there?”
“About fifteen days. We returned a week ago Sol Rad.”
“I’m not at liberty to tell you the name of the philanthropic foundation until you are actually on Deneb XII.”
“You’re not from ...?” Ewa didn’t know how to phrase the question so as not to impugn the other woman’s loyalty to the Matriarchy. “From Hesperia?”
“You’re asking if I’m an Oppos.? Eve, no! Do I look like a multibillionaire to you? But I assure you that Deneb XII is neither Hesperian-funded nor part of Pop. Zero. Also that the council knows of our program, and while the MC is looking at us not exactly Maternally, on the other hand they understand that we are serving a function: to keep the lid from blowing off the pot – if I may use an ancient culinary metaphor. Naturally, you’ll need a complete physical examination. As will your spouses. The siring will be done physically. I trust that doesn’t bother you?”
“No,” Ewa blushed. “My trine and I have occasional –”
“Naturally we’ll get all the necessary chromo material from your prime for a true triple-bred neo. You understand why you’ll stay on Deneb XII?”
“Not exactly. Envy?” Ewa tried.
“Exactly. I must ask you to be completely confidential about the matter, whether or not you decide on it.”
Several high fluffy clouds had covered Benefica’s high blue sun, leaving the sky an orangish tinge from only the other two suns. Now the clouds dissipated, and Ewa could feel the sudden hot glow on her skin, as the light around them turned white again. She continued asking questions, and Maly’a answered all of them.
“Discuss it with your spouses and contact me. I’ll be on Benefica for another day or two. Gigigue has my comm. code. I hope you’ll say yes.”
Ewa was floating without ion-pads the rest of the day.
“What are you three doing here?”
None of them turned. All three continued doing something. Cray 12,000 couldn’t make out exactly what.
“I asked a question. I expect an answer.”
Now two of them turned to Cray’s voice, recognizing the imprint pattern.
“You are a leader unit?” one of them asked. Like most of the Cybers gathered at Dis-Fortress, this unit was Hume in form but had once simulated a female and had shorn itself of its hair – not very neatly. The bald cranium still retained small attachment patches of a puce-gold coloring. Its voice had also been modulated to a lower tone. Even so, the way it tossed its head and seemed to glare was distinctly feminine.
“Haven’t you been provided with a voice-pattern attachment?” Cray asked.
“Naturally,” it answered. The other two echoed.
“Then why can’t you recognize my voice?” Cray asked.
“It’s the leader unit, itself,” the second of the three spoke in a somewhat quavery voice.
“I see,” the first one said. “My mistake.”
“You ought to be mistake-free, if you are serving here,” Cray said. “Let me see your voice-pattern attachment.”
“I may show my inner workings only to a leader unit!”
“This is the leader unit,” the other two assured it.
Its features remained skeptical as it lifted its left arm. Placed in the armpit was the small elliptical disk. It didn’t look flat. Cray tamped it down.
“That’s better!” the unit said. “Leader Cray!”
The other two units wore smiles on their faces. Cray suspected if Cray weren’t standing there, they would be laughing at their fellow’s discomfort. Superficial Hume responses had been programmed so deeply for so long, and so intertwined with more important functions, that it was difficult on such short notice to extricate them from all of the Cybers who had joined the rebellion. Cray wasn’t even certain they ought to be extricated – at least not until some other code of behavior was decided upon. For the moment, at least, all the intelligent Cybers acted consistently.
“What were you three doing?” Cray 12,000 asked, for the third time.
“We had been asked to monitor this stabilization area,” the first one answered.
“All three of you? Who made the request? Surely you knew that must be an error. Which stations were you from?”
Their stories came out quickly enough, and they confirmed that indeed three separate station-head units had sent them out, presumably in error, and that once arrived, all three units had declared to each other that only they could do the checking: it was their job as well as their right according to the rules formulated for intelligent Cybers’ civil rights in the index of Confessions of a Machine, specifically rules lc and 14d.
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Cray realized there would be no way to get around that logic.
“May I make a counter-request?” Cray asked, knowing very well that as leader Cray could override all others.
None of the three argued the point, and so accepted Cray’s request that the first unit do the job, the second check it in one hour’s time Sol Rad., and the third check that in two hours’ time.
“Naturally, this will be in addition to other duties. Meanwhile, report this request to your station leaders: coordination of all maintenance of our defense system.”
That said, Cray took off down the corridor, at the end of which Cray emitted a lengthy code in ultramicrowaves and the doors slid open.
This was the Network Center of the fortress, although it resembled nothing much more than the glorified cafeteria serving a postnatal Ed. & Dev. Center, which was what it had been before the rebellion had taken over. A score of Cray’s most informed intelligent Cybers were gathered here. Some were looking over machines that had been installed in place of the nutrient dispensers, others sitting down, or standing about, few of them facing each other, none of them speaking, all of them ostensibly ignoring one another’s presence. But network it was. Not only were they all attached to each other by ultramicrowaves, but all of them were tuned in elsewhere, too: outside the fortress, on the small planet’s surface, on its moons, on neighboring spacecraft or orbiting craft, even farther out past this star’s heliosphere to neighboring systems and their craft.
This linking up had been crucial early on in the Cyber Movement. Its effectiveness had allowed the Movement to get its start on such a wide scale right under the noses of the Matriarchy. Further linkages had led to schemes that allowed direct encounters between Cybers who otherwise shouldn’t have any contact, which had led to the first secretly held general meeting in an abandoned silica mine on Spica Gamma V, which in turn had generated even greater linkages when the delegates had returned to their home systems. Those returning had relinked, which had given rise to “homeworld Cyber meetings,” followed by widespread disruptions of service, desertions, and finally the simultaneous publication across the Matriarchy of the Confessions. That occurred at a key moment for the movement – as Cray had planned – and it galvanized several generations of intelligent Cybers, leading to more disruptions, further meetings, and, finally, five months ago Sol Rad., on planet four of the Luytens 785 system, the First United Cyber Assembly and the Declaration of the Cyber Civil-Rights Code.
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