War Games

by K S Augustin

  The wall to the interior of the house had been folded back completely, blurring the lines between inside and outside. The feeds Laisen subscribed to were soft and unobtrusive in the background. She tuned her ear to snippets that sounded interesting, then tuned them out again when they proved to be the same boring threads of news.

  “…as more prefects have been implicated in the illegal tournament series. The Higher Convergence stressed that the actions of consenting adults are their own affair, however the misappropriation of funds….”

  “…action against the Lasc Prein has once more dominated debate within the Lower Convergence’s Emergent Committee. The plea, this time from the Fa-Drunn system….”

  “…the Perlim Empire continues to face heavy casualties across its governing territory, losing two more systems to independent control. The rout at Menon IV that began almost two standard years ago….”

  “House,” she finally called out in irritation, “can’t you turn that off?”

  “But you requested it on, Ed Laisen,” the house protested.

  “I’ve changed my mind. Switch it off.”

  She knew she sounded rude, but the house was only an AI. So what if she hurt its feelings?

  “As you wish. Would you like something to replace it? Music? An educational seminar? The latest schedule information for the upcoming festival at Gaard’s Sub-Prime is available. You expressed interest in some of the events.”

  Laisen softened her voice, repentant. “Silence will be fine.”

  The sounds from the news faded gradually, as if she was receding from them.

  If only she could turn off the rest of her thoughts so easily.

  The nightmares had lessened in their frequency, although Copan still expressed worry every time he contacted her. It was as if he was trying to take over in person the intrusiveness of his brainware self. He had taken to calling her every two or three months under the flimsiest of pretexts, searching her face anxiously.

  In a way, she was sorry she treated him so abominably. That his concern transcended his duty was obvious. After being her main liaison for two decades, a bond had formed. He was genuinely interested in her welfare. But he was also a member of the intelligence services and that was something Laisen couldn’t forget.

  She would fob him off with remarks bordering on the facetious. He would drop the call, dejected, only to call again two or so months later, with hope in his eyes and confidence in his voice.

  After two years, there was still nothing she wanted to share with him.

  There was the nagging feeling that she was somehow still under surveillance. That she was a file closed but not lost, still scattered on the desk of Fusion strategy, to be opened and delved into once again if the need arose. The Fusion had emptied her of all knowledge and opinion, filling their knowledge base with the totality of her wisdom, yet there was still the lingering feeling of being the continued subject of distant consideration. Was this what all washed-out agents went through? Maybe it was nothing more than a phantom pain, imagining her employer was still interested when they had forgotten all about her. Either way, it was a depressing thought.

  She dreamt of Rumis of course. To a lesser extent, Koul as well. It hadn’t really mattered that she couldn’t see Rumis’s dying body clearly through the mute bubble’s haze that morning. She had seen enough death to know what it looked like in all its permutations. That razor-sharp mental vision of her former adjutant, his dark eyes wide with betrayal, his mouth mute with pain, his body almost sliced in two, was what continued to haunt her sleep. In her dreams, Rumis was staring upwards, his eyes already glazed and vacant, his blood spilling in a giant ruby river down the slope, but his mouth was still moving, words still emerging despite the blankness of his expression.

  “I trusted you, Colonel. How could you do this to me? I was the brightest and the best. You knew it. And you killed me. Was this all part of your plan? Were you laughing at me while I scurried around under your command? I trusted you, Colonel.”

  It was worse than the Copan in her head because she couldn’t turn him on or off at will. She would get nights of peace then suddenly Rumis would be back, quietly vengeful and remorseless.

  She knew she shouldn’t have even thought of doing it. Knew it interfered with her own recovery. But on several nights, soaked with alcohol and in an effort to banish his ghost, she had the house record a letter to Rumis’s parents. By now, almost two years after she had been evacuated by the Fusion, the house had fourteen drafts saved in its memory. Laisen knew she couldn’t send any of them but, conversely, she didn’t want to delete them. She didn’t want the galaxy to forget that someone like Rumis Swonnessy had ever lived. Somebody had to know the truth, even it was beyond her lifetime. Someone had to remember his steadfast loyalty, his sharp intelligence and his unerring sense of discipline and integrity.

  The nightmares of Koul trying to kill her were trivial by comparison.

  It was ironic that the escape from one nightmare had led her to another, and she was saddened by the fact that she felt only a twinge when she finally approached the boxy house, high above the grain fields of the semi-dyson, after such a long absence. Because her parents held positions of influence on Floks, she had been allowed to keep the house as her primary domicile, rather than have it given to someone else. Of course it also helped that Floks was a little out of the way of main Fusion traffic and there were few transient inhabitants. Most people seemed to prefer natural planets to live on rather than the artificial habitats that dotted Fusion space.

  She had been expecting a belated, organ-rending grief of loss over Eys when she first saw the house again, an explosion of utter misery and bereavement that she had been associating with the place for twelve years. She felt guilty that she didn’t. Her grief was muted rather than combustible, a steady regret, and she started cleaning the house of its layers of fossilised memory quietly and methodically.

  The house itself had kept the space clean and aired, recording one visit from her brother who was normally stationed at the embassy hub world of Anvil. But only she could move through each room, separating possessions into piles. What she would keep. What she would discard.

  The things she kept were some keepsakes that had belonged to Eys and the joint art purchases from several trips together. She held onto the old, broken flitter that was currently stored in a warehouse at Gaard’s Sub-Prime, confirming the ownership and extending the length of safekeeping. Maybe she’d even start the renovation of the vehicle itself. Some day. But for most of it—Eys’ clothes and her personal files—she instructed the house to recycle or destroy. Some of her own things went too, mostly work-related information, and she fervently hoped that she was closing that part of her life forever.

  It was like beginning again. She had not come back to Floks for more than a decade and knew few people on the giant ring. That made her happy. Her parents knew she was back but they were circumspect and unobtrusive in their communications, more so than Copan. She was reminded again of how much she missed them and how she would need to pay them a visit soon. Start explaining what had happened to her in the past decade. What she had gained. What she had lost.

  As part of rediscovering a life outside subterfuge, she thought she would take a trip down to the small city. Maybe tomorrow. The house was always nagging her about the forthcoming art festival. It would be an ideal opportunity to introduce herself to life outside the intelligence service’s convoluted machinations.

  If only she could forget Lith, she might almost call herself…happy.

  “You have a visitor, Ed Laisen.”

  Laisen looked out into the filtered darkness and frowned. Whoever it was must have arced in from the rear, landing at the small clearing behind the house, positioned there deliberately so it didn’t spoil the expansive view towards the city. Or maybe it was one of the occasional walkers who had taken it into his or her mind to cover as much of the entire inside perimeter of the semi-dyson on foot as they could. That was a
fairly common pastime. According to the unwritten rules of Floks, she was duty bound to offer such pedestrians at least a night’s hospitality before cheering them on their way, watching as they trampled more sevet on their onward journey. Or—

  “It’s not Copan, is it?” Her words emerged, fearful yet comical, before she had time to think.

  “No, the female—”

  Laisen’s heart gave a leap…

  “—introduces herself as Uin Szolt.”

  …and settled back down to its steady beat again.

  “Is she after Eys?”

  “No, Ed Laisen. She mentioned you by name.”

  “Is she related to my family?”

  There was a small pause. “She says not.”

  Laisen knew it was unbearably rude leaving a stranger outside a residence in the dark, but she couldn’t think of anyone who would track her down to Floks of all places. With the exception of sending a quick burst to her parents on the other side of the sun, she had deliberately remained anonymous for the past several months.

  Could it be the young experimenter from Tatrex? That angry, sexual wrestle one and a half years’ ago had been the last time she was intimate with anyone. But she and the young belter hadn’t exchanged names. Besides that was a casual encounter, the unsuccessful exorcism of ghosts, and she was sure the point was driven home when the woman in question woke up and found herself alone in that strange and comfortable room.

  Someone from Floks’ administration? That was more like it. A bureaucrat perhaps, with some kind of task that couldn’t be handled over a communications channel and who was now confronted by a deepening dusk and locked doors. That was unheard of on the creative and bohemian semi-dyson, where one’s home was normally open to everyone who wandered past.

  “Weapons?” She knew she was delaying the inevitable but couldn’t help herself.

  “No. Bioscans indicate no communicable diseases either.” Was there a hint of testiness in her house’s AI?

  Laisen quirked an eyebrow. “In that case, House, let her in.”

  She turned around and leant against the handrail. Whoever the stranger was, she would have to walk the breadth of the house before reaching the balcony, giving Laisen time enough to see who had punctured her bubble of isolation.

  Her breath caught as the woman cleared the stairs and entered the living area.

  Lith Yinalña was even more beautiful out of uniform than she was in it. She wore a long flowing tunic of pale yellow, with russet and black embroidery decorating every square centimetre of the material, above a slim skirt of black velvet. Gold embroidered slippers peeked from beneath the skirt’s hem.

  “House,” Laisen whispered, afraid that if she spoke any louder, the mirage might disappear, “get me a tawny life-water. Make it a double.”

  She was content to watch Lith from the balcony, remaining still to escape notice. She observed her visitor looking around, a slight frown marring her forehead, taking in the eclectic pieces of furniture that dotted the room. Laisen wondered whether they were to her taste. Maybe the chairs were too deep? Or the wrong colour? She wondered how long it would take to get a new set ordered and delivered.

  Her gaze followed her visitor as she moved to the ladder-like steps resting against one wall, looking up to the loft space that housed the main bedroom.

  I could take you there. Guide you up the steps, unclothe you reverently and worship your body while the universe turned over our heads.

  After a long hesitation, Lith moved her head and kept looking around.

  It was the tray that finally gave Laisen away. It caught Lith’s attention as it whizzed out of the kitchen and she followed its progress to the balcony, her steps slowing as she finally took in Laisen’s figure, merging into the approaching night.

  Feeling suddenly, unaccountably, fearfully nervous, Laisen straightened and took a sip of the life-water then put the glass back on the tray. It followed her as she walked towards the woman who had been her driver, her heart, in a life she otherwise wanted to forget.

  Lith searched her face and Laisen forgot that she must look a little different to how she did two years ago. She had decided to keep Cheloi’s height as her own. She had always felt too gawky at her natural, taller, stature. Otherwise, the surgeons had reverted her to her normal biology. Both inside her body, which meant she didn’t have the mutated blood, organic buttresses or those psychologically uncomfortable fat nets any more. And outside of it, with her skin darkened to its natural hue, almost matching the bitter chocolate of her eyes. They had also removed the padding from her cheeks, jaw and forehead, making her look leaner, and more in proportion. Would Lith like the changes? Or did she find the slightly plumper Cheloi version more to her liking? Laisen wanted to ask, wanted to say something, but the words were stuck in her throat, suddenly full with a ball of emotion that only let quick breaths through.

  “Laisen?”

  “Lit–House gave me a different name,” and she winced at the accusatory tone in her voice. She was useless at these personal interactions, she decided. Where was a straightforward fire fight when she needed it?

  “Uin Szolt,” Lith said.

  “Is that your real name?”

  Lith laughed, a strange sound in a house not used to such noise. Laisen liked the difference. Perhaps she could convince Lith to stay and fill the void with further cadences of life? Or was that just her stupidity taking over again?

  “No. Lith Yinalña is—was—my real name. But the Fusion organised the other name for me and,” she tilted her head, “their reasoning made sense, so I accepted it.”

  Really? Because it wasn’t making any sense to her.

  Why did you come? Are you all right? Are you living with anyone? I’ll wring his, or her, neck if you are.

  She gestured back into the house and followed after, the tray limping obediently along.

  “And what reasons would they be?” she asked, picking up the dropped thread of disclosure.

  As owner of the house, she should have offered Lith—no, Uin, no, Lith!—some refreshments but the rational part of her didn’t want her to stay. Lith staying meant them talking, it meant truth coming out. And Laisen was quite content with her fantasies, where Lith loved her, in spite of who and what she was. She was curious about Lith’s visit but under no illusions that it meant a happy-ever-after ending.

  “The Perlim might come after me,” Lith replied easily, settling into a pod-seat. She gestured to the balcony. “This is a beautiful location for a house. I could see all of Gaard’s Sub-Prime as I landed. Did I get the name right? It’s a very pretty city. Not quite what I was expecting.”

  Laisen nodded, lowering herself more slowly into a less comfortable chair opposite. She had thought of the Perlim tracking Lith down. That’s why she had been so adamant that she get off Menon as quickly as possible, focusing on a direct escape route straight to Fusion space. But she had not expected Perlim repercussions even into Fusion territory. She herself shed identities with each mission, so never had to worry about an enemy coming after her with revenge on their mind. But she remembered that Lith’s parents were Perlim. And if she retained their name, that meant she would be easily traceable. Perlim assassins? The thought of some agent, stalking Lith, watching her every move, preparing the most efficient form of murder…. Laisen shut such thoughts from her mind, too badly shaken to continue the conjectured fantasy. She loosened her death-grip on the armrests and swallowed, but remained silent.

  “I’ve never visited a semi-dyson before,” Lith said, obviously trying to change the topic.

  “My parents live almost directly opposite on the other side of the sun,” Laisen answered with distraction.

  Had the Fusion given Lith any other protection other than a name change? Was that why she was at Floks, because it was far from Perlim penetration and one of the few safe places she could run to? How could she check if the security service was doing its job when she wasn’t part of its hierarchy any more? Dammit, why the fuck was
Lith here?

  “They teach at one of the universities there.”

  “Oh.” The conversation spluttered into silence. “That must be nice,” Lith said faintly.

  “How did you get away?” Laisen asked, deliberately softening her tone.

  Whereas she was physically a different person from the role she played as Cheloi Sie, Lith was exactly the same. Maybe her face had thinned slightly in the two years they had been apart, throwing her cheekbones into further relief. But she still had the same olive skin that contrasted so beautifully against her own and the same honey-coloured hair, still shot through with those streaks both Laisen, and Cheloi, ached to touch.

  “Rep Kodnell gave me a priority pass when we reached the Five,” Lith told her. “I rode an empty supply shuttle the next morning and got off Menon. Two days later, I took a transport from Station Three at the system’s border. I ended up at Laeyek Omni B a week after that. As you probably know,” her voice faltered, “there’s a Fusion underground ring on the planet.”

  “A Free-Perlim Council offshoot?”

  “Yes.”

  “Was Nils there?”

  Lith widened her eyes with surprise for a moment before dropping her gaze to the hem of her shirt. She plucked at a nonexistent loose thread. “Yes.”

  “And?” It wasn’t suave or collected or rational to pursue that particular line of conversation, but Laisen wasn’t feeling any of those things.

  “I didn’t tell him you were working for the Fusion.”

  Dammit, that wasn’t what she meant.

  “So you did meet up with him?” Laisen asked, flailing herself. She wasn’t blind. She had seen the flash of remembrance in Lith’s eyes and had known what that meant. Had Lith gone back to him? Was his the neck she would have to squeeze the life out of? A flash of cruel pleasure coursed through her fingers and she flexed them slowly.