by Jenn Lyons
innocent.” I swallowed. “Do you think I’m Sarcodinay? Part Sarcodinay?”
“You look human. Your DNA tests have never registered you as anything but human and your libido is most definitely human. No Sarcodinay could go through lovers the way you do. Your blood is red; you have human pupil, iris and cornea. May I ask why it matters?”
“Because I—” I tried to finish the sentence, failed; reached for another explanation, floundered; and finally said: “—It does matter.”
“You’re afraid you’ll end up like them, or rather, your current perceptions of them.”
“Yes. You don’t know—” I grimaced. “I wanted to, Deuce. I wanted to make Campbell mine, utterly mine, and he would have had no choice in the matter whatsoever.”
“You don’t need psychic powers to make Tal-Campbell Stewart yours, Mallory. I suspect all you would need to do is take his hand and express interest. He likes you. Would you like me to provide you with the biometric data on just how physically attracted to you he is?”
“And I was going to—”
“But you didn’t and you won’t. I know you. You won’t.”
“Which is why nothing between Campbell and I is ever going to happen.”
“Ah, of course, because making you both miserable will solve everything. Excellent idea.”
“I don’t trust myself. Besides, it’s not like he has all the facts, does he? I am slightly skeptical that he would be quite so interested if he knew what I could do to him, or about the whole Sarcodinay gene-experiment angle.”
“Mallory, your gene tests are on file. Nothing has ever shown up as even slightly unusual, and even if that were the case, I would like to remind you that you are more than the sum of your genetic parts, as I am more than the sum of my memory chips.”
I looked inside the cabin, then tore my gaze back outside, to the city street lit with what passed for daylight to people who had never seen the real thing. The transport fetched a lot of curious stares from service-castes unused to seeing one in this part of the Megacity; they stole furtive sideways glances as they passed. They seemed to be enjoying the chance to walk around without a destination, strolling purely for the pleasure of the act and not because they were following orders. I watched two men sitting down on a bench across from my apartment.
“You know you never directly answered the question,” I said.
“I don’t have enough information to answer the question. Perhaps Alexander Rhodes can help, can tell us if such a thing is possible. I was under the impression that Sarcodinay and human crossbreeding would be impossible. The human race has a rich cultural history and fascination with clairvoyance and the paranormal. I’ve seen many books describing such on our hunts through dead city bookstores. It may not be necessary to look outside Homo Sapiens for your genetic potential.”
“I can read Sarcodinay minds, Medusa.”
“So can the Kantari—to the Sarcodinay’s dismay. It’s not unthinkable to suggest that a human telepath would not be bound to the same rules as a Sarcodinay one.”
I smiled then. If I’d come to Medusa with gene tests and signed affidavits proving that my mother was Tirris Vahn herself, Medusa would point out the possibility of forgery and lab contamination. “Thanks, Medusa.”
“My pleasure. Now let it go. You are lethal. You always have been. This simply adds one more weapon to an arsenal that was already extensive, and if you are going to keep going up against Sarcodinay High Guard who can attack you psychically, you will need this new weapon you have been given and you will need to master it as quickly as possible.”
I winced. “North Point Station. You noticed that, didn’t you?”
“Of course I did...”
“...and you kept recording while I was unconscious. You did, didn’t you? Medusa, when were you going to remind me?”
“As soon as Campbell was gone and I could talk again. Oh yes, that would be now, wouldn’t it?” She didn’t hide her smug satisfaction.
I grinned. “Show me as soon as we return to the Aegis. I’ll see if we can find a match on our assassin.” I smacked the steering wheel happily. “Beautiful.”
“I knew that would cheer you up.”
“Oh yes.” I looked out the window and my eyes focused. Then I stopped smiling. “So how long have those two men been sitting outside my building, anyway?”
“Mallory, there’s a lot of people outside right now.”
“2 o’clock. Both men are tall, weigh about 90kg. The first one has brown hair, braided, wearing a green and brown print khani with yellow leggings. The second man has black hair, cut short, wearing a white and red poncho over blue slacks.” I didn’t move my forehead from the glass. “They are both stubbornly refusing to even glance at the direction of this transport, and the one in the khani has something under his coat that could be a maser. If they’re service-caste I’ll eat the one of the seats on the Aegis. I’m guessing MOJ. I want to be sure.”
Medusa paused briefly, a fraction of a second that I knew was the delay as she spoke to Cerberus, and Cerberus replied. For all I know they probably had a long, drawn out conversation about any number of subjects, from beekeeping to chess strategy, just one of which was ‘Does MOJ have men watching the corner of 2100x1600?’
“Cerberus says the men are not MOJ. He also mentioned that they have been here, for never less than fifteen minutes or more than thirty minutes, for most of the day. He detected a similar pattern amongst several other individuals loitering in the area today that would suggest orchestration.”
“Any of them go inside the building?”
“Yes. A young couple entered several hours ago carrying two boxes. They left after 53 minutes.” She paused again. “Cerberus cannot confirm their identities.”
“Well, well, well. Medusa, get inside the building security. I want to know if anything’s been tampered with recently: elevator, maintenance panels, plumbing. I want to know if a light bulb was changed today.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Go to my apartment.” I opened the door, and stepped outside. The two men on the bench were positively dedicated in the depth of their disinterest. I might as well have been a piece of litter on the ground, even though I drew plenty of stares from everyone else.
I mentally tsked to myself. These were not professionals, or in any event, not professionals who were used to keeping an eye on someone without a tap into the local monitoring system.
That did not mean they were harmless.
“It’s busy here, Mallory. I’m not sure I’d be able to spot any irregularities. It’s all a bit irregular right now.”
“Pity.”
I allowed the transport to follow its instruction set and swing back to the spaceport. I stepped into the frenetic lobby of the apartment building. It was all chrome and pale white patches where there had been mirrors before thirty years of tug-of-war. In addition to the old sharp smell of ammonia, I could detect a new sweetness: the subtle odor of a few celebratory recreational cigarettes, both tobacco and hashish. People were busy moving furniture and boxes and jostling for room on the elevators. This is where I would have placed someone, had this been my show. A team of people could pretend to move into a place for most of the day and not arouse any suspicion. That sort of thing takes time, particularly if you’re not organized, or at least good at pretending. If that was the case, however, these people were pros, and I couldn’t spot anyone who didn’t seem to be the real thing. The elevator was crowded, which made it difficult to slip inside, press the button and code for the penthouse level, and slip back out again before the doors closed, but I managed.
I walked down a hall that I remembered led to a maintenance entrance I’d noted when I first arrived. Maybe they had someone set up at the other exit waiting, maybe not, but if it gave me a chance to watch which way my new friends would jump, I was game to try. Besides, I wasn’t really of a mind to have a violent confrontation at my new address. The neighbors would talk.
“I would gu
ess an ambush or booby trap,” Medusa whispered. “A number of moving boxes were left outside the door to your apartment, but I can’t locate anyone new on the penthouse level.”
I walked outside, not slow or fast but with the ‘I belong here and I know where I’m going’ pace that so often equals invisibility. No one was waiting for me with masers ready, and the two men on the bench out front hadn’t teleported to an unexpected location. So far, so good.
“Is Ian home?” I asked as I crossed the street.
“Yes, he’s—”
The top two floors of 2100x1600 exploded.
I stared up at the fireball and defied the cliché that strikers are immune to shock or hesitation. I froze up fine. Ian was up there, and I knew it. Time slowed. I saw the flames expand with lazy apathy, crawling out around the top of the building like a giant scarlet spider wrapping its legs around a moth. People screamed around me, ran for cover, ducked inside doorways. The air was thick with smoke and the gagging odor of burning plastic and hot metal. It would probably be a whole fifteen seconds before the artificial weather simulator kicked in with a good rainstorm to keep the fire in check. All a matter of containment: the kinetic force of the blast had already done its work.
I started running as the first pieces of debris fell sizzling to the pavement.
The two men were walking; had likely started walking away as soon as the explosion occurred. The man in the candy cane poncho glanced
