The Strangelove Gambit

by David Bishop

  "That was a close call," Dante muttered to himself.

  I don't think it's the only close call you'll have tonight, the Crest said.

  "What do you mean?"

  You have another visitor waiting for you on this side of the door.

  A female voice was next to speak, her soft tones whispering across the room. "Poor Mr Durward. You must be tired. Come to bed."

  NINE

  "There's a time to chase, a time to run"

  - Russian proverb

  Dante spun round to see Helga lying in his bed, a single sheet pulled to just above her breasts, modestly covering her more outstanding attributes. "I thought we were supposed to be meeting in the gymnasium?" he asked.

  "We were," she purred, "but it was already locked when I arrived for our private tuition. So I decided to see if you had another location in mind. You left the door unlocked, so I slipped inside and waited. I hope you don't mind..."

  "No," Dante yelped. Realising his voice had climbed an octave, he cleared his throat before speaking again in a considerably deeper tone. "No, that's absolutely fine. Not a problem at all."

  "Good," Helga replied coyly. "I wouldn't want to make you angry."

  "True. I can be quite fearsome when I'm angry."

  "Oh, yes, I can imagine. You might decide to punish me."

  "Might I?" Dante was having difficulty in swallowing, suddenly aware that the collar of his shirt was constricting his breathing.

  "Yes," Helga said enthusiastically. "I was rather a naughty girl after class, wasn't I? Flirting with you so shamelessly. Madame Wartski wouldn't approve."

  "I take it she's against flirting."

  Helga shook her head sadly. "She doesn't want us to have any fun at all."

  "What a shame," Dante agreed. "Well, I must admit to being rather tired so perhaps we could hold our private session on another occasion..."

  "You don't want to show me how a real fighter wields his weapon?"

  "It's not so much that as-"

  "I had so been looking forward to having you put me through my paces. The cut and thrust of a good duel, our bodies glistening with sweat as we strained to outdo each other, the battle of the sexes coming to an almighty climax in our combat," Helga enthused, her eyes alive with excitement. "Doesn't that sound inviting to you, Mr Durward?"

  "Very inviting," Dante admitted, "but as I said, it's getting late and we both have classes in the morning."

  "What would Madame Wartski say if she found us alone together in your private quarters?"

  "I shudder to think."

  Helga pursed her lips thoughtfully, pressing a forefinger against them. "It would be a shame if she found out what had been going on in here."

  "But nothing is going on," Dante maintained. "Nothing's happened!"

  "Nothing yet," Helga replied, letting her forefinger slip between her lips and into her mouth. Her tongue rolled around the sides of the finger, moistening it gently, before Helga withdrew the digit from her mouth with a sigh. "But I might feel obliged to tell her anyway."

  "Tell her what?" Dante hurriedly wiped a beat of perspiration from his forehead, all too aware he was not in control of the situation.

  "How you invited me back to your room," Helga said hungrily.

  "But I didn't," Dante protested.

  "How you ordered me to take off all my clothes and fold them across that chair," she replied, pointing at a neat pile nearby.

  "But I never-"

  "How you commanded me to get into your bed, wearing only a black silk ribbon around my throat," Helga continued.

  "But I..."

  "And then how you had your wicked way with me, over and over again." Helga suddenly sat up in the bed, the sheet falling away to reveal she was completely naked but for the silk ribbon around her neck.

  "But-"

  "Of course, I don't have to tell her all that."

  Dante smiled weakly. "You don't?"

  "Nein," Helga said. "I can be as quiet as you like, Mr Durward."

  "That would be best, I feel."

  "Or I can scream so loud everyone in this castle will come running." Helga rose from the bed and began walking slowly towards him. "It's up to you."

  "Well, I don't think screaming will be necessary," Dante said hopefully.

  "No?" Helga smiled and undid the strip of black silk from her neck. "We'll see about that. Now take off your clothes. I know the perfect place to tie this ribbon, somewhere that will keep you up all night if I wish."

  You better do what she says, the Crest suggested. Grin and bare it.

  Dante nodded and began tearing at the buttons of his shirt. "You have been a naughty girl, haven't you Helga?"

  The House of Hapsburg's eldest daughter gave a tiny squeal of delight. "Yes I have, Mr Durward."

  "Call me sir."

  "Yes, sir!"

  It was close to dawn before Dante finally got some sleep, having spent much of the night satisfying Helga's needs and wants. He stirred at six to see her hurriedly dressing. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," she whispered. "I have to get back to bed. Madame Wartski checks all the dormitories just before seven, to make sure nothing has happened to us."

  "You'll remember our little conversation, won't you?" Dante asked. "Not a word to her about what we did last night."

  Helga looked horrified at the mere suggestion. "I'd never tell her anything of the sort! She'd have me expelled immediately."

  "Oh," Dante said, realising he had been out-bluffed for the second time in twenty-four hours. "Oh well."

  Helga unlocked the door and peered outside carefully. "But I'll certainly tell the rest of the girls! Everybody deserves one of your private lessons." She waved coyly and hurried outside, closing the door behind herself.

  Congratulations, the Crest said as Helga's footsteps had faded into the distance.

  "Thank you," Dante replied. "I thought it was a remarkable performance on my part too. I didn't realise you were such a connoisseur of lovemaking."

  I was congratulating you on becoming Fabergè Island's new gigolo.

  "You're exaggerating as usual, Crest. You don't honestly expect little Helga to tell her classmates about what went on last night do you?"

  Of course she will, Dante. That woman left here with enough gossip to keep the students whispering for weeks on end. You can expect a steady stream of customers for your talents in the next few nights.

  "Well, there are worse things than being a gigolo," Dante maintained. "I always fancied a career between the sheets. I could be the twenty-seventh century Casanova, the greatest lover of them all!"

  Most gigolos get paid. All you got was an hour's sleep and a smug grin on your face. Do you honestly think you'll be able to keep that up all week?

  "I'll have you know I survived the House of Sin's Hellraiser Gauntlet, a trial of male endurance that only two men in history have completed!"

  I know, I was there, the Crest replied wearily. Not a pretty sight. Anyway, it's time for you to get up.

  "I think I've been up enough for one night."

  Maybe. But breakfast is already being served and your first class begins in an hour - self-defence with half a dozen sex-starved young women.

  "Bojemoi," Dante muttered, climbing reluctantly from his bed. "How do teachers cope with this sort of schedule?"

  They get long summer holidays and sleeping with their students is strictly forbidden.

  "Well, that would make it a less strenuous profession, but rather less enjoyable too." Dante pulled on a pair of trousers and headed for the ablutions block. "Wake me if I fall asleep in the shower."

  Dante spent much of his day fending off the attentions of his pupils, as word of his exploits spread through the elite class. Carmen from the House of Andorra kept dropping her pencil and asking Dante to pick it up for her, while Tracy from Britannia took every opportunity to pinch his rear as he walked past her desk. Helga was just as happy to see him, winking at the new teacher and giggling whenever she caught his eye. />
  Dante was examining the bruises on his buttocks after dinner when someone began knocking on the door of his private quarters. "I'm not here!"

  "Yes you are," Spatchcock replied from outside. "I can hear your voice."

  Dante let the kitchen hand in and then locked his door again.

  "Why the extra security?" Spatchcock asked. "Has Fabergè figured out who you are?"

  "No, I haven't seen him since Sunday night. I'm trying to keep out any unwanted visitors." Dante pulled down the waistband of his trousers to give Spatchcock a glimpse of the bruising. "See?"

  "What have you been up to?"

  Better to ask who he's been-, the Crest began.

  "Yes, thank you, we get the idea," Dante snapped. "I'll do the smutty innuendoes."

  Spatchcock looked askance at him.

  "Sorry, just a little side discussion I'm having with the Crest."

  "Flintlock wants to know if you've found out anything from the twins yet."

  "Why?"

  Spatchcock shrugged. "I'm guessing he's terrified of getting caught in Wartski's room. He doesn't want to get too close to her."

  "I've seen her in a night-gown. He's got good reason to be scared," Dante agreed. "But he'll have to bite the bullet. Tempest and Storm have been locked away in the laboratory with Fabergè all day, so I haven't made contact."

  "I'll pass the message on."

  "What about you and Scullion?"

  Spatchcock shook his head sadly. "I think she's falling for me, big time."

  "Perfectly understandable," Dante said.

  "Yeah?"

  "Of course. You reek like a rotting corpse. How could she resist that?"

  Spatchcock smiled. "I wonder what sex with an alien is like?"

  "Just be careful where she puts those tentacles. The suckers on an octopus are strong enough to rip the skin from a human arm once they're properly adhered. Imagine what Scullion could do to you..."

  "I hadn't thought of that," Spatchcock admitted. "Best be getting back to the kitchen. She wants me to start prep for tomorrow's meals. I'll pass on the message to Flintlock." Dante unlocked the door and let Spatchcock out. Seconds later an insistent knocking made him reopen the door.

  "Spatch, I told you, I can't-"

  His words were silenced by a slender female hand clamping itself across his mouth. Carmen appeared in the doorway, pushing Dante back into his room. Once they were inside the Andorran beauty pressed her back against the door, preventing Dante from trying to leave.

  "Helga told us all about you, Mr Durward."

  "Did she?" Dante smiled thinly. "Good for her."

  "But we didn't believe her. No man could do all the things she claimed, as well as she claimed, for as long as she claimed."

  "You're probably right. Well, now that we've settled that-"

  Carmen suddenly ripped apart her blouse, revealing a red silk brassiere encasing two magnificent, deeply tanned breasts. A waft of perfume filled Dante's nostrils, powerful and intoxicating. "Perhaps such a man could satisfy Helga, for she has never known the fiery temperament of a true Latin lover. But we in Andorra pride ourselves on being the most passionate of people."

  "An admirable quality," Dante agreed. "Perhaps we could discuss it further in the morning?"

  "You are an animal, aren't you?" Carmen demanded. "You believe actions speak louder than words and now you want to prove it to me!" She clasped hold of her breasts and began to massage them through the brassiere. "Santa Maria, already I can feel my loins burning at the mere thought of your touch. Imagine what love we shall make tonight!"

  "Perhaps it's best if we left it to our imagination. Reality can sometimes be a disappointment, I often find..."

  Carmen shook her head. "You're right. Perhaps I should not be imagining such things." Her hand reached for the door, twisting the handle.

  Dante smiled, relief flooding his features. "Good. Tomorrow we can-"

  Carmen pulled open the door and whistled. The sound of approaching footsteps became audible outside.

  "What are you doing?" Dante asked helplessly.

  "I do not wish to imagine what love you and I shall make tonight," Carmen replied, licking her lips. "Instead I shall experience an even greater pleasure!"

  Don't ask her what pleasure this is, the Crest urged.

  But Dante couldn't help himself. "What pleasure is that?"

  You had to ask her, didn't you?

  Carmen pulled the door open a little wider and another of the pupils slipped inside. Her dark hair was cut in a bob, framing a heart-shaped face with warm hazel eyes. She was wearing a silk robe but it was obvious there was little on underneath it. "This is Mai Lin, a student from the Malaysian Provinces," Carmen explained. "She doesn't speak much English but we've discovered another way of communicating this past year. We talk to each other with our bodies, not with our voices."

  Dante swallowed, twice. "I'm not sure you should be telling me this."

  Carmen and Mai Lin began to advance on Dante, who was retreating towards the far corner of his room. Soon they had him pinned against the wall, unable to escape. Carmen tore off the last of her clothing and began to remove his, while Mai Lin slipped out of her robe and began to rub her body against Dante. A heady smell of musk filled the air.

  "We love you long time," Mai Lin whispered.

  Bojemoi, the Crest whispered.

  "You can say that again," Dante agreed.

  It was just after breakfast on Wednesday that the data crystal departed Dante's body. After thoroughly washing the offending item, he took it back to his private quarters and locked the door. "Well, Crest, what do we do now?"

  After last night I know there's not much you won't do, it replied.

  "I meant with the data crystal," he snapped back.

  Temper, temper. The Crest analysed the object silently for a few moments before speaking again. Put your hands next to the crystal, then cede control of your cyborganics to me.

  Dante did as he was told, watching as tendrils of silver and purple biocircuitry began to extend from his fingernails, encircling the crystal. It was a strange sensation to feel your body acting under somebody else's control, a detached helplessness.

  It's encrypted, the Crest announced.

  "Meaning?"

  I've been able to penetrate the outer shell and download everything stored inside the crystal. But the data itself has been run through a very sophisticated form of encryption, far beyond currently known technology.

  "Something Fabergè has developed here on the island?"

  Perhaps. That's not the important issue. I can break this coding, but it will take time - days at least, perhaps even weeks.

  "We don't have weeks! The Tsar will be here on Sunday."

  I know, I know. I'll have to devote all my energy and attention to this task until I find and crack the cipher upon which the encryption is based.

  "In words I can understand?"

  You're on your own.

  "Crest? Crest!"

  It replied after a long silence. Yes?

  "Sorry - you just disappeared. I'm so used to having your voice inside my head, it was a little frightening," Dante admitted sheepishly.

  Get over it. I'll contact you when I'm done. Understand?

  "Yes. Do you still need the data crystal?"

  No, I've extracted all relevant data. You'd best hide it for now.

  "Okay." Dante waited for another moment, then realised the Crest had gone again. He concealed the crystal in his luggage before leaving for class.

  Dante was pleasantly surprised to find Tempest at the faculty library when he went in for pre-dinner drinks that evening. Wednesday's classes had proven even more problematic than the day before, with Mai Lin and Carmen exchanging knowing looks and the other pupils trying to catch his eye. Dante pondered organising an orgy, simply to speed up the process of sleeping his way through the entire class, but decided that would be both risky and impractical. He might be all man but there was a physical limit t
o how many women even he could satisfy simultaneously. No doubt another of the students would be making a visit to his quarters tonight. If he could find somewhere else to spend the night, he might get some sleep.

  "Mr Durward, I wanted to talk with you," Tempest said as Dante entered the library. "There's something we need to discuss."

  "Indeed? Well, I'm all ears."

  The red-haired woman raised an eyebrow at this statement. "I'm not sure I understand your meaning. I see only two ears and they do not appear any larger or more significant than most."

  Dante smiled. "It's an expression. I was saying I'm all yours."

  "All mine?"

  "Er..." Dante cursed inwardly and realised how much he depended upon the Crest's help in such situations. For once, he'd have to sort this out for himself. "I meant I'm ready to talk with you about whatever you like."

  "Good." Tempest nodded, looking down upon him. She noticed Dante rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Is something wrong?"

  "You're so tall, it's giving me a stiff neck."

  "Then we should sit down." Tempest gestured at two armchairs in a corner of the library away from the others. Mould was snoozing in another chair, while Ms Ostrov and her cronies were watching suspiciously from the far side of the room. Once she and Dante were seated, Tempest smiled. "Is that more comfortable for you?"

  "Yes, thanks. Now, what did you want to talk about?"

  "You must excuse me. Sometimes if I fail to recognise colloquial expressions and vernacular phrasings."

  "Now you've lost me," Dante said.

  "Slang," Tempest explained. "Storm and I grew up here. The institute and those who pass through it, they comprise much of our life experience."

  "You went to the Imperial Games, didn't you? I remember watching the highlights on the House of Bolshoi sports channel."

  "True, but Doctor Fabergè insisted we keep ourselves to ourselves during the events. As a result, we do not have your knowledge of the world and its vernacular." Tempest chewed her bottom lip wistfully. "Sometimes I wonder what else we have missed out on."