“Emry.” Psyche clasped her head in both hands again, moved her warm body closer. “Don’t worry, sweetie! You can help us keep that from happening. You know how they fight. You know their weaknesses. And they won’t see it coming when you turn on them. With your help, we can make it quick and make sure it’s done with a minimum of fuss.”
Psyche held her closer still. “Ohh, Emry … I understand how you feel, sweet baby.” Her breath was warm and fragrant against Emry’s open mouth. “And I love you for your compassion.” Her full lips touched Emry’s tenderly, but lingered there for some time. “I would never want to see your friends hurt if we could possibly help it. That’s why I need you to do this for me, honey. For me and Daddy. For your family.” Another kiss, longer, deeper.
Zephyr’s words made Emry choke, and she pushed Psyche away. “Hey, umm … we really shouldn’t be doing this.…”
Psyche’s brows furrowed, and she studied Emry’s face. “Don’t listen to Zephyr,” she said. “He’s trying to come between us. Between you and the people who love you.”
Emry knew that was strange, but was having trouble thinking clearly. Psyche went on, her voice so soothing, so alluring. She just wanted to listen to that beautiful, sweet alto and do whatever it took to make its owner happy. But that wasn’t the only voice she loved. “Zephyr … he’s my friend too.”
“Is he?” Again her head was clutched in those butterfly hands—those warm, pleasure-giving hands. Again those shimmering silver eyes filled her vision. “He’s been trying to come between us for weeks, Emry. He’s just a cloistered, bitter cyber who doesn’t have it in him to trust, or to understand the love humans can feel for each other. He’s probably a spy for the Troubleshooters. Shut him out of your mind!”
Emry wasn’t sure she could find her mind right now. “No, I … don’t believe that … he doubted Tai before I did.…”
“Because he can’t trust anyone. And you can’t trust him. Please, Emry, shut him out. If you love me, break your link to him.”
But Psyche’s lips were devouring hers again, her tongue dancing with Emry’s. Her hands stroked Emry’s hair, making her scalp tingle, sending jolts of pleasure down her spine. Emry’s arms went around Psyche’s lissome body, holding it against her, not wanting to let go. Somehow the front of Psyche’s shimmering blouse had opened, and Emry let her beautiful friend slide her head down to nestle between her firm chocolate-kiss breasts, taking comfort from their warmth, their scent, the strong pulse of her loving heart. She tried to bury herself deeper, not wanting to listen to Zephyr’s distracting whining anymore.
“I know he can be a mother hen,” came Arkady’s voice in her memory. “But mother hens usually know what’s best. You couldn’t have a better partner.”
“He doesn’t want to be my partner.”
“We’ll talk him into it, trust me. I just know I’ll be able to rest easy as long as he’s out there taking care of you.”
Gathering herself, Emry pushed Psyche away and struggled for clarity. “Stop. We have to … I need to think … what are you doing to me?”
“I’m just reminding you how much we love you, Emry. How much we need you.”
“Don’t listen to him, Emry!” Psyche was saying. “Come to me. Be with me.”
“Shut up!” Emry thrust her arms out defensively. “What are you, Psyche? There’s more to you than you told me. You don’t just read people … you affect their minds. Brainwash them into … into doing your will. All that ‘enhanced social intelligence’—it’s just a trick.”
“No, Emry. My abilities are just what I’ve told you: to read people, understand how they think and what they need, and use that understanding to win them over.” Psyche gave an insouciant shrug, as though apologizing for borrowing Emry’s clothes without asking. “I just do it in a more … proactive way than I like to let on.”
“You mean manipulative. Invasive. You use people.”
“It’s no different from any other kind of persuasion. Just more precise, more tailored.”
“Tailored.” Emry’s mind was starting to clear. “That’s why you have to get so close to everybody, fondle them, kiss them. Fuck them. You’re sampling their body chemistry. Your glands, they need time to tailor the drugs.”
“Don’t think of them as drugs. Just … neurochemical facilitators, to ease someone into a suitable state of mind. And it’s so much more than that. Here,” she went on, moving forward, baring her chest the rest of the way. “Let me show you.” Scent glands in the chest, Emry realized. Secreting her “facilitators” … those tits really are weapons.
“Don’t take another step!” Emry cried. Psyche came casually to a halt, her pose relaxed and nonthreatening. Body language … that’s part of it too. Total control of her microexpressions … everything, the way she moves, the tone of her voice … subliminal cues, subsonics … it’s all tailored. And she can read instantly how well it’s working, adjust it moment by moment.
“You’re right,” Psyche said, chilling her. “I can read you like a book, Emry. Your hormones, your body heat, your every microexpression, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg.” Was she drifting closer? It was hard to tell. “So you can’t lie to me, Emry. I can see how much you love me, how much you love Eliot. And I can see you’re not a hundred percent sure you can trust the Troubleshooters. Listen to that part of you, Emry. It’s telling you that you’ve chosen the right side already.”
“If that were true, you wouldn’t be trying to control my mind! To control the delegates’ minds!” It was finally hitting her, and it hurt. “My Goddess, the whole thing is a lie, isn’t it? You don’t want to give every nation a voice—you just want it to look that way, so people think they’re free and equal! But really it’ll be you pulling the strings, telling them how to vote, what to say!” Then the next part hit her. “That’s why you don’t want to make peace with the Troubleshooters. You don’t want to risk them finding out. And … and maybe you want to have a common enemy that’ll get all the Strider states lining up behind the Vanguard.”
She was afraid to ask the next question. “Does Eliot know? Is this just you, are you pulling his strings like everyone else’s? Or…”
Psyche’s eyes flashed. “I am my father’s daughter, Emry. I’m his right hand, his legacy. I was made for that. Couldn’t you tell from my name? Psyche, whose beauty rivaled Aphrodite’s.” She raised a hand and a butterfly promptly alit upon it. “So lovely and sublime that animals, plants, even the earth and the wind itself bent over
backward to oblige her every whim.”
Emry’s heart fell. “All this time … he’s been using me. Lying to me.”
“Emry, Eliot Thorne is the greatest man who’s ever lived! You know that! He’s the only one with the brilliance, the will, and the vision to lead twelve billion fractious humans into a new evolutionary era! Everything I do is in the name of that greater good, Emry.” Her smile was gone now, and she began refastening her blouse. “Do you think I like doing this all the time? Always being on, always calculating how to influence people and nudge them in the right direction? Never able to just be myself, let someone see who I really am? It’s hard, Emry, and it’s lonely. But it’s worth it if it helps bring my father’s dreams closer to reality.”
She sighed. “I’m sorry I’ve manipulated you, Emry. But we weren’t sure how you’d react if you knew the truth. You’re mad now, I understand that. But just … trust me a little, give me more time to explain, and maybe you’ll come around. I’d love to have you as a full partner, someone who really understands, so I don’t have to play games with you anymore. That would mean so much to me, Emry.”
A tear rolled down Psyche’s flawless cheek, and Emry’s heart went out to her—until she realized what was happening. “You’re doing it again! Stop playing me!”
Psyche gave an apologetic laugh. “You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s force of habit. You see how hard it is for me?” Emry thought back to how gleeful Psyche had been back at that party, playing with those two men’s emotions until they tried to kill each other, and decided that she liked using her power a lot more than she claimed. Psyche saw her line wasn’t working, and relaxed. “Look. Is it really that bad, what I do? Would you rather my father had bred an army and sent them out to kill everyone who stood in his way? Or if he’d used torture and blackmail the way Tai’s doing? I influence people with warmth and joy and understanding. The means inform the end, Emry. Doesn’t the fact that my father favors such gentle means tell you that his intentions are good?”
“Whether it feels good or not, it’s still force. You tried to control me. To make me feel what you wanted. That’s an invasion, Psyche! Do you have any idea what that feels like? How can you?” She was furious. She wanted to belt Psyche one. But something held her back. Something, hell—she knew what it was. Psyche’s mojo was still inside her, affecting her will, her emotions … she couldn’t bring herself to hurt Psyche, to act against her.
Emry gasped. “Oh, Goddess. Sensei. Did you do something to him?”
“Emry, God, how could you ask that?” But Emry saw something in her face for the first time: a stray microexpression. Guilt.
The dam broke. With a shriek, Emry lunged forward and struck that perfect face with the flat of her hand. The crack resounded through the valley. Psyche tried to roll with the blow, but it snapped her head around and knocked her half over. But her waist-length braid swung around toward Emry’s head. Emry dodged reflexively, distracted from seeing that Psyche had turned her motion into a spin-kick that took Emry below the sternum. She fell back, rolled, and came up into a ready crouch—just in time too, for with those long legs it took barely a step for Psyche to close with her and aim a high right-heel kick at her chin. Emry dodged and grabbed her ankle, but Psyche backflipped, her left foot jabbing Emry in the right knee and breast in quick succession. Psyche came out of the flip with her arms raised like an Olympic gymnast’s, giggling.
“You won’t be laughing when I haul you in for murder!”
“And will they believe you, a suspect in another murder? I’ll just tell them it’s a feeble attempt to frame me—and when it’s my word against yours, sweetie, you’re vacked out a very small punkhole. Besides,” she added, her grin wide and feral, “you’d have to catch me first.”
“Watch me!” She charged again.
Indeed, one of those legs came down on the small of her back, knocking her onto her belly. A moment later, Psyche was straddling her from behind, legs wrapped around her midriff and squeezing hard. A rope of shimmering, coppery-gold hair looped around Emry’s neck and Psyche began to pull it tight. “I didn’t want to have to do this, Emry! But I will kill you. You deserve it! You could’ve had everything at Daddy’s side! But instead you betray him! Just like you betrayed your own father!”
Emry only faltered for a second. For once, Psyche had misread her. Yes, she had let her father down. But that was the past, and she could forgive herself now. Rachel had forgiven her … and she knew Mom and Dad would have forgiven her too. Because that was the kind of love they’d shared. The kind that healed.
Emry shot her head back into Psyche’s face, drove her elbows into the nerve clusters under her arms. Psyche fell back, dazed, the rope of hair falling free from Emry’s neck. Emry spun to face her, seeing blood dripping from her adorable snub of a nose. “Don’t flatter yourself, Daddy’s girl. You even fight sexy—the legs, the braid—it’s fetish stuff. Not the real deal. Everything about you is just for show.”
Psyche smiled, licking her lips to taste the blood. “No. It’s for getting what I want. And there’s more than one way to do that.”
She ran. Emry followed. Soon, they emerged into the amphitheater, where dozens of delegates milled, discussing the issues of the day. “Help!” Psyche cried. “It’s Emerald. Emerald Blair. She’s betrayed us all, she’s a spy for Ceres, she’s trying to kill me!” Her voice was perfectly pitched to convey terror and helplessness. Tears glistened in her eyes, and her expression was so poignant it made even Emry mad at herself for hurting her. “Please, she’s coming for me, stop her! Stop her any way you can!”
Most of the male delegates, and many female ones, surged forward to protect Psyche. She clung to them, one by one, no doubt spewing psychoactives all over them. “No, it’s not what you think!” Emry called. But some of them were already charging—Marcus Rossi of Mars Martialis, Paul Chandler of Zarathustra, the half-bionic Ifukube Kenji of Niihama. People who could do her serious damage if she let them—people she didn’t dare hurt because they were innocent dupes. People who looked like they wanted to rip her apart with their bare hands for daring to lay a finger on their sweet, beloved Psyche.
So Emry ran. And a mob of delegates ran after her, screaming for her blood.
* * *
Beyond the stone amphitheater was a dense deciduous forest, and Psyche knew that Emry would quickly outdistance her pursuers within it. The delegates were not the best backup physically, with a few exceptions among the mods. But they were at hand, Emry wouldn’t hurt them, and, most important, they would all do anything for Psyche. Well, maybe not anything, but with the right handling, she could certainly guide them in the right direction. It warmed Psyche’s heart to see how many of the delegates leapt instantly to her defense, and how easy it was to persuade the rest to join in the pursuit of Emry—even some whom she hadn’t yet managed to program for obedience, who were just buying her story and choosing to help her of their own free will. It was a thrill to exercise her powers on such a scale, to get a real test of the delegates’ devotion to her. This was what her father had made her for. This was his will made manifest. And nothing brought Psyche such joy and fulfillment as being the instrument of Eliot Thorne’s will.
Still, the last thing she wanted to do right now was call up Daddy and ask for help. He was busy with important conference matters, comparing notes with geneticists from various delegations, exploring ways to combine their efforts and techniques toward the betterment of all humankind. As always, he was planning for the future, his great mind and wi
ll questing outward, ten steps ahead of everyone else. She couldn’t interrupt that with a mundane setback like this.
Besides, she was embarrassed. She should never have let this happen. She had underestimated Emry’s loyalty to the Troubleshooters. No, don’t be so hard on yourself. You couldn’t have known the Troubleshooters would develop their own suspicions of Tai. She’d done all she could to assess their personalities, model their probable reactions, and orchestrate matters to deepen the wedge between them and Emry. But try as she might, she could only gain so much insight into the minds of people she hadn’t gotten up close and personal with.
So she’d been forced to improvise again, as she had with Villareal. She hated it when she had to improvise. It was such a waste when people refused to go along with the plan and had to die. Especially a fabulous lover like Villareal or a friend like Emry. Damn that cyber. She didn’t know specifically what Zephyr had said, but she could read Emry’s reactions in her face, her hormones, the blood flow in her brain. If not for him, I could’ve won her over. Or at least knocked her out and taken her captive, so that she could’ve worked on changing her mind at leisure.
And maybe that could still happen if they caught her, though it would take some substantial neurological reconditioning. She wouldn’t be the same free-spirited, funny, aggravating, and endearing woman after that. Maybe it would be kinder just to kill her now and remember her as she was. After all, she had an excellent simulation of Emry’s psyche in her memory buffer, accumulated over many weeks of scanning and thus exceptionally detailed, so she could call it up for a chat at any time and wouldn’t have to lose her friend forever.
Either way, Psyche was determined to get the situation in hand before she bothered Daddy. He had faith in her to handle things like this, and she wasn’t going to let him down. She’d kill anyone, even her best friend, before letting her father down.
Only Superhuman Page 29
