Omega Games

by S. L. Viehl

  “If the game’s skin is thin and flexible enough, it can be done immediately after a kill,” I said, putting on a fresh pair of gloves. “Otherwise, the carcass is parboiled first, to loosen the hide, and then stripped.” I saw the Chakacat’s throat move, and belatedly realized that I had been too candid. “I should not have described it so graphically. I beg your pardon, Keel.”

  It looked from me to the remains and back again. “How do you know of such things?”

  “We had to hunt our food on my homeworld. I know most ensleg societies do not,” I added quickly. “Akkabarr is an ice world, upon which nothing grows. The Iisleg were left to die there, and had to become hunters or starve.”

  It nodded at the table. “Do you think something ate the insides of that?”

  I saw no tooth or claw marks, or other signs that the skin had been ripped away from the flesh by something feeding. Rather than offering such details, which would upset the feline again, I merely said, “It does not seem likely.”

  I performed several other scans before completing my examination. “The only other thing I can tell you at this point is that this is not the Tingalean who attacked me. This individual died four to seven days ago.”

  “Could it have molted?”

  “This is not simply a shed layer of hide. This is all of this person’s skin.” I made a circling gesture over the remains. “All three layers are here. I know of no species that molts to such an extreme degree.”

  After I replaced the remains in the container and sealed it, Keel shut down the field and allowed me to cleanse. I took advantage of the Chakacat’s distressed state to help myself to some of the medical supplies, which I quickly concealed under my garments.

  “I would like to begin the medical exams as soon as possible,” I told Keel as we left the lab.

  “I will speak to Drefan about it,” the Chakacat said.

  I followed the feline back to the rooms the games master had given us, and found them empty. It promised that Reever would join me shortly and left me there.

  I used the next hour on the room terminal, pulling up all the dermatological information the colonial database had available on the Tingaleans and skimming through it, looking for a medical condition to explain the state of the remains. I found no accidental injury, illness, or disease that correlated with my autopsy findings.

  “Something had to remove the hide perfectly, in one piece.” I searched in one of the console bins and found a datapad, which I used to create a chart and an autopsy report. I had just finished transferring the data from my scanner to the pad when Reever walked in. The filthy condition of his clothes, face, and hands made me drop what I was doing and hurry over to him.

  “You did not fight that Hsktskt, did you?” I demanded as I searched for blood and other signs of injury.

  “Not yet,” he said, catching my hands to stop me. “I’m fine. I took apart one of the drednocs that were disabled by the Tingalean, to see if I could retrieve its sensor recordings. Unfortunately, the laser melted the command core where they are stored.”

  I needed to pass some things to him without Drefan seeing it on his monitors. There was only one place in the room where I could do that.

  “You and your garments need a wash,” I said, giving his arm a playful tug. “Come and I’ll do both.”

  When I tried to pull him into the cleanser full-clothed, Reever resisted, until I looked past him at one of the monitors and then into the cleanser. He understood and followed me inside the small chamber.

  “Drefan could not put a recording drone in here,” I said as I produced one of the slim utility knives I had taken from the lab. “The sonics would disrupt the feed. So we can do as we please, with no one watching.”

  Reever nodded. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Many things.” I inserted the tip of the blade under the edge of his tunic. “You are wearing too many clothes.” With one smooth incision, I sliced open the front of his tunic.

  My husband’s eyes darkened as he braced his hands against the unit’s walls. “And after you remove my garments? What will you do?”

  “Something will come to mind, I’m sure.” I slit both sleeves from wrist to shoulder to show him how sharp the blade was. “Perhaps you have some specific thoughts on the matter.”

  “I may.” He bent his head and put his mouth on mine, initiating a link at the same time. Why are you playacting like this?

  Drefan’s monitors can’t watch us in here, but the unit is not soundproof. They can still pick up our voices.

  He nodded. How many blades did you take?

  Five, including this one. As I cut through the waist fastener of his trousers with one hand, I used the other to strip off my tunic. Two in the right pocket, one in the left. One in my right boot.

  Out loud I said, “I love how you touch me. Your hands are like water, all over me, everywhere.”

  “I would drown myself in you.” Reever smoothed his wet palms over my breasts. We will both carry two, and hide the spare where we can easily retrieve it. Did you see any pulse weapons?

  I dropped down, cutting his trouser leg open to the knee, and pressing my mouth to his wet thigh. The soft, fair hair on his legs tickled my cheek as I glanced up at him. “Do you like this?” I teased the crease between his leg and hip with my tongue. No, but Mercy tried to give me one before I came over here. I would try to smuggle one over, but I think Drefan will scan me for weapons every time I leave or enter the dome.

  “I like everything you do to me.” His hands tangled in my wet hair, pulling it back from my face. I don’t want you going unarmed anywhere on this colony. He hissed in a sharp breath as my tongue found other ways to please him. If I ever let you out of bed again.

  I brought him to the edge with my mouth before I stood, shedding the rest of my clothes as I straightened. The link between us faded as my husband lifted me off my feet and out of the cleansing unit.

  “We will get the bed linens wet,” I said as he turned and carried me toward the sleeping platform.

  “I don’t care.”

  That I could make Duncan do and say such things thrilled and shocked me. Iisleg men never allowed women to have such power over them. My husband claimed not to have emotions, but to watch his self-control shatter made me think differently.

  He dropped me on the platform and straddled me. “Why are you smiling like that?”

  “I have been here two days and only now am I doing something I like.” I wriggled my hips, adjusting myself to fit our bodies together. “This was supposed to be our—what did you call it? The sweet time?”

  “Honeymoon.”

  Reever covered my breasts with his palms, gently pinching my nipples between his fingers before he lowered his head to them. What he did with his mouth made my insides feel hot and tight, but it was how he looked at me that made my heart constrict.

  “There are no words,” he murmured, moving up to kiss my mouth, “for how beautiful you are to me.”

  I rolled in his arms until we sat facing each other, my thighs bracketing his. “When we leave here,” I said, putting my hands on his shoulders and raising myself for his penetration, “I want to spend a week in space. Someplace where no one can find us.”

  His breath tickled my ear. “And then?”

  “We will barricade ourselves in the cabin.”

  He clamped his hands on my hips. “You can have whatever you want.” His eyes darkened as I took the initiative and pushed, taking him inside me. “Especially this.”

  When he tried to move, I wrapped one of my legs around his hips. “Hold still. I want to feel you there.”

  He put his teeth to the side of my throat. “You want to torture me.”

  I clutched at him, desperately trying to hold on to that first moment, when I felt him completely inside me. It was the completion my body craved, but it was surrounded by a complex tangle of emotions I had never felt with anyone else, even our child.

  I cared for many people, and I love
d Marel. But Reever had become part of my soul.

  “Jarn.”

  I felt him pulsing deep within my body, and kissed a bead of sweat from his chin. “Now you can move.”

  He was strong and hard and slow, so slow. He moved in my body in a matter of degrees, so that the friction between us built in the same manner. He was taking revenge for my teasing, I knew, but I didn’t care. Duncan was inside me, Duncan was loving me, and I had never felt more alive or more at peace.

  Two made one.

  He turned me onto my back, propping himself over me without stopping the deep, languid glide of his body into mine. “Jarn,” he whispered, going still. “You are crying.”

  I felt one tear escape and slide down my cheek. “With joy, Husband. With joy.”

  Nine

  Keel came to our quarters the next morning to inform me that Drefan and Mercy were still negotiating on how best to arrange my schedule so that all of their employees could be examined. The Chakacat indicated that the negotiations were not going well.

  “Mercy is angry that Drefan has kept you here when you are her property.” Keel glanced at my husband. “Technically speaking, of course. Drefan feels that Mercy might do something ill-advised if he permitted her to see you, so he refuses to allow her access to the dome. She is now threatening to go to colonial security and file a grievance against Omega Dome for illegal appropriation of lawful salvage.”

  “While they are bickering over me, I may as well start with the staff here,” I said. “It will give me something to do until they work out an agreement.” I turned to Reever. “Will you come with me?”

  “Drefan wishes me to assist you, Doctor,” the Chakacat said. It didn’t look exactly enthusiastic over the prospect. “We have reserved a sparring room for your husband, as well as practice programs he may find valuable.”

  “That is acceptable,” Reever said. To me, he said, “It has been a long time since I’ve fought an exhibition match. It will help me to practice.”

  I suppressed a smile. Reever worked out every day; he was always prepared for a fight. However, he intended to use the simulator terminal to gain access to Drefan’s database; we had talked through our link about the possibility last night.

  Still, I hated being separated from him. “Be careful when you use the practice programs,” I said as I picked up my medical case. “I do not need more work.”

  Keel took me back to the laboratory where I had examined the Tingalean’s remains.

  “Drefan would like you to begin examining his personal staff,” it said as it watched me set up an exam area. “Would you care to start with the domestic servants or the bodyguards?”

  “I will start with you,” I said. “Remove your garments and sit on the table.”

  Keel took a step back. “I do not require an examination. I have not . . . There is nothing wrong with me.”

  I eyed the feline. “You are part of Drefan’s personal staff. You will be assisting me. I will not allow you to do that until I have performed a thorough exam to insure that you are not diseased or carrying a contagion. Get on the table.”

  The Chakacat muttered to itself as it stripped out of its garments and climbed onto the flat alloy surface. “This is ridiculous. I’m in perfect health.”

  I checked the table’s panel and noted the displayed height and weight measurements on my datapad. “You are five kilos underweight, and your nutrient levels are slightly below League standard for your species.” I glanced at it. “That is hardly perfect. “

  “I have no appetite,” it said with some indignation. “I despise the taste of synth.”

  “So do I, but the blockaded cannot be choosey. Lie down.” I waited until it stretched out, and slowly passed a scanner over it from head to back paws. “What is your age?”

  “I was whelped twenty-nine seasons past.”

  I mentally converted the seasons into standard solar years. That made it very young, little more than an adolescent. “How long have you served the games master?”

  “All of my life. He bought me as a youngling from the Garnotan breeder who owned my parent.” It closed its eyes. “My species is hermaphroditic.”

  “I know.” I switched the scanner over to check its blood chemistry, and took a sample. “Your hormone levels are somewhat elevated. When are you planning to breed?”

  “Never.”

  “You should consider taking a contraceptive blocker, then, before your glands decide the issue for you.” I connected the scanner to my datapad to download the results and set them aside. “I am going to palpate your abdomen. I know most felines dislike being touched around the belly, but I will be careful and not hurt you.”

  Keel nodded, but its body remained tense as I checked for masses and lumps. “I don’t think I’ve ever been examined by a doctor who treats people. My breeder had a veterinarian give us our inoculations and body checks.”

  “Well, you are my first Chakacat patient.” I pushed back the pile of its pelt to check for parasites. It felt and smelled clean, and appeared bug-free. “The Hsktskt Hanar has ordered that all life-forms enslaved by the Faction are to be freed. When does Drefan plan to comply with this order?”

  Keel looked surprised. “Drefan does not own any slaves.”

  “You just said that he bought you from the Garnotans, “ I reminded it.

  “He did, but he gave me my freedom as soon as I was old enough to take care of myself. I am a paid employee now, free to leave Trellus whenever I wish.” Keel’s whiskers twitched as I checked the insides of its ears. “I am not recognized as a sentient being, however, so I have chosen to stay here, where I am treated as such.”

  That sounded very much like a form of slavery to me, but I thought of something else. “The Hsktskt gladiatrix wears an icestone collar fitted with a neuraltransmitter. I know that is used to control slaves with pain through nerve induction.”

  “Tya is an exception. We don’t know her well enough yet to trust her. When we do, Drefan will remove the collar and nullify her life-debt.” Keel propped itself up on its elbows to observe as I checked the mobility of the four joints in each of its arms and legs. “At least, I hope he will. We cannot keep her here on Trellus. She is nothing but an incitement to riot.”

  It might talk tough, but I could hear the worry under the words. “Not even for the use of the bloodsport gamers?”

  Its whiskers bristled. “That is the worst of it. She is useless to us as a combatant. She will fight only simulations or drones. Against living beings, she will only defend herself. I told Drefan she was not worth the credits, but he had to have her. He’s been acting oddly ever since the skin games started.”

  “What do you mean, ‘skin games’?”

  Keel flinched. “I misspoke. I meant ever since Davidov started playing these games with us. That is all.”

  It was, as Mercy would say, a lousy liar. I set down my penlight. “Keel, I cannot help Drefan or Mercy or anyone if I don’t know what is wrong here.”

  “There is nothing—”

  “Then why won’t Davidov let anyone leave? Why do Mercy and Drefan want their staff checked by me? What do they think I will find?” I waited for it to respond, but it only stared at me, its eyes hard. “You said skin games. Were you referring to the Tingalean’s remains? Was it killed and skinned in one of the games played here? Is that what you fear?”

  Keel shook its head. “Drefan would never allow anyone to be murdered under his dome.”

  “Who would?”

  Its eyes shifted toward the external viewer, and the dark, lifeless surface outside reflected on its slitted pupils and colorless irises.

  “Keel, tell me. I promise you, I can help.”

  “It was killed by the shifter. The one taking the skins.”

  “There have been other victims?” When it nodded, I thought of the missing colonists. “How many?”

  “We find two or three every week.” It climbed off the table and began dressing. “The first time it happened was a ye
ar ago, when a Beleset free trader came to Trellus. The day after the trader came, we found his skin in an empty shop. We thought the shop merchant had murdered him, as she had disappeared. Then we found her skin a few days later.”

  “Why does this . . . shifter . . . take the skin?”

  “To disguise itself. That’s why we don’t know what it is or what it looks like.” Keel strapped on its blade harness. “The skin it steals begins to decay, so it lasts only a few days before it must discard it and take another. That is how it shifts from body to body.” It looked at me. “They say it is an Odnallak. That this is the secret of how they change form. By stealing and wearing the skins of other beings.”

  I had learned a great deal about the Odnallak during the plague of memory on Vtaga. Like the Lok-teel, they were true shape-shifters, able to alter their forms to mimic those of other beings. Unlike the helpful little mask-makers, the Odnallak were not so benign. They often used telepathy to draw on the deepest fears of those around them, and shaped themselves accordingly. Given their terrifying ability, they certainly didn’t need to disguise themselves with the skin of another being.

  I wanted to tell Keel this, but I considered what the effect would be on it and the other colonists. These people were already suffering from fear-induced paranoia. Suggesting that something other than the Odnallak was responsible for the killings might push them past the point of self-control and reason.

  Had Davidov made the same, erroneous assumption? Was that why he had stranded us here? To catch an Odnallak he had assumed was murdering others for their skins?

  “What is being done to find this creature?” I asked the Chakacat.

  “We scan everyone who enters or leaves the dome,” Keel said. “Not only for weapons, but for DNA as well. But we have never caught the shifter. It uses other means to move from one dome to another. “

  “Where do you find the discarded skins?”

  “On the surface, in the air ducts, behind consoles, everywhere. It leaves them wherever it finds its next victim.” Keel gestured toward the access way where I had been attacked. “One of the sanitation crew cleaning up the mess Mercy’s drednocs made disappeared yesterday. He was last seen near the control hatch in which the shifter left the Tingalean’s hide.”