by Janet Woods
***
Curran was in the shower when the communications screen buzzed. ‘Coming,’ he drawled, padding towards the lounge. He pressed a button on the remote. ‘Yeah?’ His eyes widened when an image of himself appear on screen. ‘We’re not supposed to make direct contact, Sam. What is it?’ ‘Would you mind covering my chest,’ she snapped. ‘I could have been anyone.’ He hitched the towel higher. ‘I keep forgetting I’m in a woman’s body.’ ‘Do something for me, Curran. There’s a packet of pills in the top drawer. Take one every night, would you?’ ‘I don’t believe in ingesting chemical substances.’ ‘That’s my body, and I don’t want any mishaps with it. Feed it the poxy pill, will you.’ He laughed when he saw a naked woman flit across behind her. ‘I get your drift, honey. I see you’re managing to take care of my needs.’ ‘I haven’t got any choice,’ she snapped. ‘Your body has got a mind of its own.’ She was a feisty little piece for a New Britisher. He threw himself in a chair and grinned as he draped her long, shapely legs over the chair. ‘Now, this is a body any woman would be proud of.’ ‘Keep your hands off me, you over-muscled and over-sexed clone,’ she seethed. He laughed, enjoying her temper. ‘Is that the way to talk to the keeper of your body?’ ‘If you don’t want yours to be chemically castrated reign yourself in right now,’ she snapped. ‘Take the pill, and then go to bed like a good little girl. I like regular sleep. And do something about my hair. It looks as though it hasn’t seen a brush all day.’ He flicked his hand through the tawny mass of curls. ‘I thought it looked wild and sexy like this.’ ‘Tell me about Targon?’ she said. He leaned forward, his face as still as stone now. ‘What do you know of Targon?’ ‘Only that he’s genetically imperfect. Lars mentioned you’re going to take care of him.’ ‘Lars should have kept his damn mouth shut,’ he growled. ‘If you damage my body in any way –’ He managed a smile. ‘I love your body too much to damage it, honey. If we can meet when this is over, I’ll demonstrate exactly how much.’ The pained expression she gave sat well on his features. ‘Get lost.’ He chuckled when the screen went blank.
‘So, this is what the sight of me does to women?’ he murmured. The idea of Sam finding him sexually attractive was a turn on. All the same, he didn’t fancy finding another man to service her body, though he had to admit that it needed it. The frustration level in her was high, and there didn’t seem to be any way to relieve it. His eyes suddenly lit up. I wonder if she’s got one of those nifty little gadgets tucked away in the bathroom . . ..
***
Brookson waited until dark before he let himself into Curran’s flat. The alarm buzzed in the bedroom. ‘Don’t turn on the light,’ he said when a shadow moved rapidly towards him. ‘It’s Brookson, and I need to talk to you.’ The thin beam of a flashlight blinded his eyes. ‘How the did you get in? Why didn’t you use the monitor screen?’ ‘I have the door code, and Curran’s screen is probably bugged, anyway.’ Sam swore when she remembered the conversation she’d had with Curran earlier. ‘This had better be important.’ ‘You’re in danger. Targon isn’t on New Britain - he’s here on Helios. He figures he can get rid of Curran more easily with you occupying his body. Then he’ll deal with your body.’ Fear made her hostile. ‘How did he know about the body switch?’ ‘There’s been a leak.’ ‘Why tell me? Tell security.’ ‘I can’t. One of them is in on it, and I think it’s Lars Messler. He’s set his sights on becoming president.’ ‘Lars said Targon didn’t know about the body switch.’ ‘He was lying.’ ‘But why should Lars want a criminal kept alive?’ ‘The main genetic material used for Targon came from Lars.’ ‘You mean, Targon is Lars Messler’s son?’ Brookson nodded. ‘I think Lars was responsible for his escape from Traz. Security there is too tight for any other explanation.’ ‘To what end?’ ‘Once Lars is president, there’ll be no stopping Targon. There are hundreds more like him stored. By the time New Britain is life sustainable, Lars will have an army of unbeatable force . . . and no conscience. When I invited you to Helios it was for a purpose. The escape of Targon happened to coincide with it . . . but it was no coincidence.’ ‘How do you know Targon is still on Helios?’ ‘Believe me, I know. He engineered a malfunction on the shuttle to throw Curran off track. Trust me, Sam.’ A soft scuffling sound came from the bedroom and the door clicked shut. Two strides carried Sam towards the door. When she threw it open the woman Lars had sent over was crouched before the monitor screen. Before she could turn it on, Brookson’s hands closed around her neck. One snap and it was over.
‘I have to get you out of here,’ Brookson said when she shuddered. ‘I can hide you in the transference system until I can retrieve Curran.’ ‘How?’ Brookson smiled. ‘I invented the system . . . and my staff are hand picked. Dress warmly. It’s cold in there.’ Half an hour later Sam found herself standing in an icy, clinging mist. ‘She drew a fur-lined jacket around her. ‘Where the hell am I?’
***
Curran had just dressed himself in a silky gold-colored gown when the monitor buzzed. He swore. He’d just been about to go to a hologram opera featuring the famous 20th century singer, Placido Domingo. Pulling a pleated silk wrap around his bare shoulders, he sashayed over to the screen, pleased he was finally getting the hang of things. ‘Zero in fifteen minutes,’ Brookson snapped, before the screen went blank. Curran hit the street in seven seconds, then commandeered the first vehicle he came across, a high-powered gas-fired zoomer parked outside the security forces house. His flight drew glances and hoots of laughter. His naked thighs straddled the zoomer, and the gown flowed out behind him. It was a ludicrous sight, he realized. He grinned as he wondered how Sam would explain it. Sirens blazing, he made it to the transference station with seconds to spare. The woman attendant practically threw him into the chamber.
‘My clothes,’ he said.
‘Too late . . . keep moving,’ she shouted as the vapor rose around him. A minute later he was sprawled on the ground. He grunted as he sucked the freezing mist into his lungs, and staggered upright. Something kicked him with the force of a sledgehammer in the midriff. He dropped like a stone, hugging his stomach. A foot pressed against his neck. ‘Move one muscle, and I’ll break your neck.’ ‘It’s your neck, Sam,’ he gasped. ‘Oh my God!’ She dropped to her knees beside him. ‘Are you okay?’ ‘Are you okay, you mean?’ His fingers probed at the aching diaphragm. ‘You would have killed yourself if I hadn’t strengthened your muscles. ‘Where’s Brookson?’ ‘Gone to the lab archives to destroy Lars Messler’s embryo army stock.’ The body he occupied grew colder as she related what Brookson had told her. When she finished, he rose stiffly to his feet. ‘We’ve got to keep you warm, honey.’ She promptly removed the jacket. ‘Use this.’ ‘It won’t be enough. We have to exercise to keep the blood moving and the muscles warm.’ It was she who set the pace. Feeling hopelessly inadequate, Curran tried to keep up, but after twenty minutes he was tiring. ‘I need to rest.’ ‘We’ve hardly started.’ ‘Your body needs to rest.’ ‘Oh.’ Her arms slid around him and hugged him close. ‘I’ll keep me warm.’ ‘You’ll get horny if you keep this up,’ he warned. ‘In this temperature?’ ‘Mmmm.’ He nuzzled his nose against his own neck and grinned. ‘If the perfume I’m wearing is anything to go by, the condition must be a permanent attachment.’ ‘Damn!’ She sounded annoyed by her own stupidity. ‘I never considered the olfactory organ might have been the cause of the problem.’ He chuckled. ‘Lady, you know sod all about men.’ ‘I admit most of my experience is theoretical.’ ‘Then why the pill?’ Beginning to shiver he snuggled closer. ‘It’s a vitamin pill,’ she snapped. ‘What the hell did you think it was? Did you take it?’ ‘No.’ Curran tried not to grin. ‘On analysis, I discovered the pill contained a suppressant, but not a large enough dose for your needs.’ His voice took on a mocking edge. ‘That explains the electrical device in the bedside cabinet. The degree of orgasm it produces is dismal. I could do a much better job.’ Sam found herself blushing. ‘You have a giant sized ego, Curran. Look . . . could you stop doing that,
please? It’s making me uncomfortable.’ ‘I know . . . ‘ ‘I meant . . . well hell . . . you know what I mean.’
‘That it’s uncomfortably enjoyable.’
She laughed and pushed him away. ‘Let’s go, running on the spot for ten minutes will prevent me from freezing to death. Besides, your leg muscles are tightening up.’
After that came push up’s, followed by stretching exercises. Curran had to admit his body was a magnificent machine. And Sam’s wasn’t bad, considering she was a female. He was about to tell her so when Targon stepped out of a disturbance in the mist. ‘Curran . . . you whoreson. You wanted me . . . so here I am.’ ‘Targon!’ ‘Jeez . . . ‘ Sam whispered shakily. ‘You’re an ugly looking so and so.’ Targon’s lips peeled back in a grimace as his eyes menaced Sam. ‘You first, dolly girl. You might be in a male body, but you wouldn’t have had time to learn how to control it yet.’ Without bothering with preliminaries Curran heeled him in the throat. Ignoring the pain in his foot, he followed it up with chop across the thigh muscles with the side of his hand. The pain of the blow made him wince. Sam shoved him aside with a hiss. ‘Watch it, you oaf. That’s my body.’ Targon went for her throat with both hands. Rolling backwards she took him with her and threw him on his back. When he rose, a knee to the groin saw Targon doubled over and retching.
‘See if you can handle that, dog’s breath.’ He’d never have done that to another man in a million years. ‘Good tactic, Sam,’ he said, and stepping forward, crunched Targon’s nose with his knee. Blood spurted into the mist. Targon was palming a knife when Sam king-hit him. Targon dropped like a stone and the knife slid out of his hand. ‘Take that, as well,’ she said. They shook hands over Targon’s body and grinned at each other like a couple of idiots.
‘I couldn’t have done it any better myself,’ Curran told her.
‘Thanks.’ Targon began to make grunting noises and Curran’s smile faded. ‘Turn away, Sam. I’ve got to finish him off or he’ll keep coming.’ A few seconds later and Sam heard the sound of a scuffle behind her. She turned to find Targon straddling her borrowed body, his hands squeezing her throat. Curran was blue in the face, and gagging for air. Snatching the knife from the ground, she shoved the blade through Targon’s back and buried it deep in his heart. Closing a fist round his hair he yanked him off before he bled all over her gown. Not even breathing hard, she tossed his carcass into the mist. ‘That was a bit ambitious of you, Curran. You should have left him to me.’ Her mouth twisted in a wry grimace as she observed him through a critical eye. ‘You clumsy idiot, you’ve ruined my favorite gown.’ He gazed at it in dismay. ‘I love this gown. I’m sorry, Sam. I’ll buy you another.’ He flicked her a smile. ‘Thanks for the helping hand.’ She shrugged modestly and brushed her fingers against his face. ‘It was nothing. Are you paired?’ His grin felt twice as big as her mouth would allow. ‘I think I will be shortly. We have a togetherness most people would envy.’ ‘Not if they had to haul all these muscles around,’ she said darkly. ‘I never know where to stash your equipment.’ He laughed. ‘I have the perfect place in mind if you’re game. The exercise will prevent us from freezing to death in this bloody mist.’ ‘You have no finesse,’ she grumbled. ‘You’d be surprised how much finesse I have, angel.’ She kissed him then . . . or he kissed her. It was a glorious melding of minds and bodies. The fight had affected them both, and the best way to release the adrenalin was to make love. His body was ripe for it, and so was hers.
For a beginner, she gave him quite a work out.
***
‘Curran . . . Sam . . . ‘ Brookson shouted half an hour later. ‘Is everything all right?’ ‘It was until you butted in,’ Sam muttered. ‘Right, I’m bringing you out. Whoops!’ he whispered, grinning as they tumbled out of the chamber in a tangle of flailing arms and legs. ‘I never thought you’d allow a woman to get on top of you, Curran.’ Curran grinned as he sprang to his feet and hauled Sam upright. He misjudged his newly regained strength, and she would have flown over his shoulder if she hadn’t clasped his waist with her legs. He jerked the remains of the gold dress down over his hips and set her on her feet. ‘Can’t a man get any privacy round here? Which reminds me . . . what sort of ancestry will our children inherit?’ Sam gazed at him and laughed. ‘Is something wrong with your eyesight?’ It took a moment for the penny to drop. Curran’s mouth nearly fell open as he scrutinized Brookson’s face. ‘That’s a relief. I had a sneaking feeling it might be Lars. What about the other half?’ ‘A New British envoy called Micha Baines. She visited Helios thirty years ago, trying to sell us their natural atmospheric system.’ ‘You mean I’m half New British?’ Brookson nodded. ‘The Helios council worked out a plan of invasion from what Micha told them, then they ordered her to be vaporized. The plan was passed over to Lars by his father, and with the help of Fleming Lars began to breed his troops. It’s all in his records. The fool didn’t have the brain capacity to retain it.’ ‘Am I to take it that Micha converted you?’ Brookson gave a faint smile. ‘She didn’t have to. My mind has never moved along the dictated path, and we fell in love. There are others like me on Helios. The followers of Micha’s doctrines are many.’ Curran grunted. ‘Things will change for the better, then.’ ‘Micha and I always hoped you’d become an envoy for Helios, and unite the two planets.’ ‘I guess I could work on that.’ He grinned at Sam. ‘What are your plans for tonight?’ ‘The same as yours, I guess.’ The blush she gave looked good on her. ‘What will happen to Lars?’ Brookson pulled a finger across his throat. ‘He and Fleming go before the tribunal tomorrow.’ Curran tore his gaze away from Sam’s mouth. ‘How did Targon gain access to the chamber, Brookson?’ Brookson jerked a thumb at the body of the attendant, half-hidden behind the console. ‘I thought I could trust him, but he’d gone over to Lars.’ ‘Nice and tidy,’ Sam murmured. ‘I don’t suppose . . . would it be too far-fetched to imagine Micha might be still alive?’ Brookson shrugged, then he smiled at them both. ‘You never know . . . it’s quite possible she’ll come through that door within the next five minutes.’
Brookson still had a smile on his face after they left. Tomorrow, Lars and Fleming would be tried for treason, and a month after that the President’s heart would fail.
The people of Helios were predictable. They would demand a hero to lead them – a hero like Curran.
*****
SPIRIT OF LOVE – ghost
Sebastian turned blue when he sulked and no wonder, the temperature had dropped several degrees!
Goosebumps raced up Gemma’s arms. ‘Cut it out!’
A gusty sigh almost tore the letter from her hand and whipped her hair into her eyes. ‘You should wear a skirt.’
‘This is a skirt!’
‘It’s indecent.’
‘It’s quite long by today’s standards. It covers my knees. Don’t you like my legs?’
‘They are very shapely, but I don’t like other people looking at them.’
‘You’re not other people; you’re a ghost, and you don’t exist.’
‘Then how can you see me?’ he said stubbornly, hovering in a corner like a pale neon sign.
She frowned at him. ‘At least my skirt is clean, which is more than I can say for your coat. You’ve been wearing it for the past two hundred years. Look what you’ve done to my hair, and I’ve just had it done.’
One dark eyebrow arched. ‘Done?’
‘Dressed, then. You have a cobweb on your shoulder?’
‘It’s also two centuries old. I’ve noticed your aversion to spiders so you’ll be pleased to hear the web out-lived its creator. Her name was Sybil and one of her daughters got hungry and ate her.’
Gemma shivered. ‘What happened to the daughter?’
She drowned in a jug of ale when she went after a cockroach that was bigger than her. She couldn’t get a grip on the wet surface.
Sebastian came to sit on the table next to her, blowing the hair back from her face so softly that it was almost a caress. The smile he offere
d, charmed her. ‘Did you enjoy my love token?’
‘The rose is beautiful. How did you get it inside the house?’
‘Oh . . . I spirited it in when you weren’t looking. It will last for ever, unless you touch it.’
She smiled. Sebastian was the most romantic ghost she’d ever met. Actually, he was the first ghost she’d ever met. No one could have wished for a more handsome or charming companion – if they had to be haunted.
