The Atomic Question - Ch. 10

Gaines was silent as Dawson explained everything about Instinct. At several points he opened his mouth as if a question had occurred to him or he felt a desire for clarification, but each time he seemed to decide to hear the entire thing before commenting. The first time he blushed was when he heard about Instinct ending up with Mother Earth during their new moon celebration, an occasion which was common knowledge in San Francisco but seldom talked about in polite company. It was not the last time he blushed, and only towards the end when he had reached the point of utter saturation of perplexity did he stop being surprised or vicariously embarrassed by Dawson's descriptions.

When she'd finished he asked to be allowed to think for a few minutes and Dawson took the opportunity to pull up the footage from the shoot-out on her commpad. A news drone in pursuit kept a clear view of what was labeled Neon Justice as the creature inside shot Wilhelm Kross in the throat while shoulder-mounted speakers blared out You're out of touch! I'm out of time! But I'm outta my head when you're not around!!

It had been a nasty confrontation that wouldn't have looked out of place in the occupation and that no one had been killed on either side was a miracle. Instinct's restraint with the suit's rail gun was a testament to just how near she was to being like Dawson herself. Capable of taking the final step but never lightly, even if a menace like Kross had little likelihood of changing his ways.

The thought of that reminded her of something she'd been dwelling on for a while, and Gaines was the person to talk to about it. She turned her attention to him and at her regard he asked his first question.

"Is she good in bed?"

Dawson smiled. "Like no one else I've ever had."

He raised both brows. "That means something, coming from you."

"You've seen her," Dawson told him. "She was on the street yesterday. She stopped someone from suicide bombing you."

Gaines' eyes took on a mystified quality. "I looked at what I thought was you and something felt off. I... I couldn't make sense of the look she gave me, the look coming from that face I know so well. Like she was... apologizing for something. You, you never apologize for anything. People just sense your contrition. You know those things you did, they had to be done. However much we wish things could have gone differently, every step of the way."

Dawson felt the inclination to turn away as she had in years past when someone sought to truly see her, but the new strength since returning from the UCAS held firm and she held his gaze. "My regrets," she said, "Extend further back than the occupation."

His eyes went from mystified to misty. "I know," he said softly, extending a hand across the desk that half an hour ago they'd been fucking on. She took it and brought his fingers to his lips. "I'm not going to pretend that luxury or sex can ease your pain in that regard. All I need you to know is that anything I can do for you, you only have to ask."

Her grip tightened on his hand. "That's what I like to hear," she said in a suddenly husky voice.

He half smiled, half grimaced. "When you got on top, you said you'd fuck me until I was useless. If you want to go again, I ah... I'm going to need a glass of water. And maybe some leonization treatments."

"Don't worry," Dawson told him, reaching out with her essence again to twine with his. His apprehension was genuine, since his dick was sore, but so was his willingness. He'd signed the contract with his lips and this was the job. "I'll give you some time to recover. But Instinct will want a piece of you."

That he was a little more frightened of. "She going to steal my genes or something?"

"Yes," Dawson said, "And your heart. And there's something else. Do you remember the woman who put a gun in your face earlier this year? The Cutter?"

Gaines took his hand back gently and reclined in his seat. One corner of his mouth came up in measured distaste. "As if I could forget. What about her?"

"Her name is Carletta," Dawson reminded him. "You made sure she went away for a long time."

His eyes narrowed. "She threatened to shoot one of my department heads in the face. I'd have pushed for more except I thought it might upset you."

"The idea she's going to spend the rest of her life in a hole with no possibility of getting out upsets me."

"She should have thought about that before she..." The irritation on Gaines' face softened as realization dawned on him and his voice lowered in volume. The final few words of his sentence were quieter. "... picked up a gun."

"I'm not saying we open up the door and look the other way," Dawson said patiently. "I want to talk to her. I want to tell her that there's a possibility she could be free one day. And a citizen of the free state."

Gaines let out a slow sigh. "Alright."

"And when I tell her that, it's going to be true."

"You going to do this for everyone you put behind bars?"

She smiled slightly. "If I live long enough."

"I can't help you," he said evenly, "With people who are imprisoned because of crimes against megacorporate entities beyond Ares Macrotechnology."

"I'll get other help for those," Dawson assured him. "Tell me you're on my side with this."

She could tell from her connection to him that there was a feeling of tremendous relief in him that he could say his next words without hesitation. "Of course I am."

When they'd dressed, he insisted on walking out with her. In the elevator, with Cranston politely not speaking and bearing no particular expression, Gaines spoke. "So what was that about a suicide bomber after me?"

This got the ork's attention. But Dawson waved one hand, the other in her coat pocket.

"It's alright, she stopped him. We're working on it. Shouldn't happen again." She looked at him, saw his pursed lips, and a line of inquiry occurred to her. It would quell the urge she had to blow him for the rest of the elevator ride down.

"You met with Arthur Vogel, and he hasn't announced much since Knight went missing. What happens to Ares now?"

At the broaching of this topic, Gaines relaxed into the mask he'd worn nearly every moment of every day since she'd known him. The man with clout. "How about you make an assessment," he said, "And I'll tell you if I agree with it."

Dawson's hands tightened in her coat pockets, a motion that helped her think while talking. "Vogel started life as an environmental lawyer. He got his seat at Ares from Dunklezahn's will and has been frustrating Damien Knight and the rest of the board ever since then. Rumors of his connections to eco-terrorist groups have never stopped, and with Knight gone--for now, anyway-- there's no one for Vogel to contend with, he has a majority share. He said he'd step down in 2082 regardless of whether the board has picked a new CEO, and I wonder what Ares' corporate hierarchy will look like by then. A lot less moneyed, a lot more radicalized, if I had to take a guess."

Gaines spoke in a low, even tone. "Close to the mark, Dawson. Project Pyro was how Knight got rid of people."

"And Vogel gets rid of them with GreenWar," Dawson finished. "Accomplishes the goal and sends a message to everyone else in the process. But you seemed surprised to learn about this. Did you think you were on his good side?"

For a moment Gaines had a far-away look in his eyes. Briefly he really did seem like a forty-eight year old boy. "Vogel told me he respected the work I'd done in San Francisco, during the occupation and since then. Said it was the behavior of a man who cared about more than just money."

Dawson took her right hand out of her pocket and set it on his shoulder, making him shift nervously. "I agree with that," she assured him.

"Told me if I would keep taking care of San Fran, I still had a place in Ares. Told me that... while showing me footage of you in the suit, fighting in the street."

She wasn't afraid. "Did you tell him?"

Gaines lifted his brows. "He didn't ask. Just showed me the footage and said he respected the risks I'd always been willing to take. Then sent me back here."

The detective in her spoke before anything else could weigh in. "Then why try to kill you? He could just fire you if he wanted you gone."

"Must not have been him," Gaines supposed. Any further thoughts he had on the topic were cut off by the sound of the elevator's arrival chime and the doors opening.

Dawson shook his shoulder lightly. "I'll get to the bottom of it," she promised him. Glancing at Cranston she added, "And hopefully nobody will lose any more hands about it." Behind his glasses the ork smirked but said nothing.

Just outside the main doors of the Orchard at the top of the steps, Dawson turned to regard him. She said, "Glad you're back."

He smiled then, the genuine kind he'd always put on when she'd come to see him once or twice a year when it was just them left from the occupation. Before Vayger came back, before Pickers' heart had softened, before Instinct had come to exist. Gaines had always been reaching out in his way, wanting to touch but forever afraid she would explode like an aging claymore and kill them both. It had been a well-founded fear for a long time.

But he wasn't afraid of that anymore. Feeling his essence with hers, there was a total absence of doubt in the spaces around the metal that was his astral silhouette. Their sex had driven out the uncertainty, leaving him open to her love. "I'm glad too," he said gently.

With slow reluctance she let their essence separate and the yearning to be near to someone was immediate. Whatever he was going to say next caught in his throat as his gaze shifted subtly to one side. At that same moment Cranston glanced up sharply and reached for Gaines' shoulder.

The ork shouted, "Get down!"

Gaines didn't bother to say anything, only grabbed Dawson's upper body with both arms and leveraged his whole body weight to one side to throw her. The gunshot echoed across the open space in front of the Orchard and the bullet ripped by the left side of her head a fraction of a second later. A small puff of powdered concrete announced the projectile's arrival into the wall beyond them.

On the ground Dawson had ended up on top of Gaines, who held one side of his neck with blood visible between his fingers. The quantity was not so much that the sight terrified her and she was able to keep her head, redirecting the mana within her to her right arm and leg and causing the moisture in the air to rapidly freeze into a bulwark of solid ice. It formed just in time: three more quick gunshots rang out and the bullets crunched into the ice, hissing hot from having just left the barrel.

Before more shots could follow Cranston's cybernetic hand gripped Dawson and Gaines by the shoulder. The muscular ork easily dragged the two of them back towards the doors to the Orchard, bringing them out of the shooter's line of fire. And then a second later his Savalette Guardian was in his his hands and firing up at one of the roofs of a building across the square.

Dawson turned her attention to Gaines, grabbing his wrist and prying it away from his neck. He grit his teeth and asked, "How bad is it?"

"Just grazed you," she told him. "You'll get another scar."

"Getting a lot of scars on your behalf," he remarked.

"Cost of doing business."

Cranston fired again and a perimeter defense drone flew into view, followed swiftly by another. Riggers somewhere in the vicinity of the Orchard were quick to respond to an incident of this nature. No more gunshots followed and Gaines' bodyguard holstered his weapon.

He turned at once and said to Gaines, "Inside." Belatedly he added sir.

"Why?" Gaines asked as Dawson helped him stand. "She's the one they were shooting at."

The ork opened his mouth but thought better of it.

"Because," Dawson said for him, "You risked your life for mine and that makes his job harder."

Gaines tested his hand on his neck where the hitman's bullet had been a few centimeters from fatal. Without his intervention that might have been the back of her head. "Who's trying to kill you, Dawson?"

Without asking permission she set her hand on his opposite shoulder. "Hired gun, I suspect."

As her touched persisted he tensed up. "Ah... What are you doing?" The injury on his neck ceased bleeding at once. He put one hand over hers.

"Don't do that," he said, "Knight Errant employs medics for this kind of thing."

Pain bloomed in her neck in the same place as his own but no wound opened as he pried her hand from his shoulder. Her tone was both impish and concerned. "You really want that BioMed gel all over you, Thomas?"

"You didn't complain much about my gel all over you," he replied. Dawson couldn't keep from breathing laughter.

A medic in a Knight Errant uniform met them at the door, backed up by half a dozen body-armored sentries. Gaines let them fret over him with the grace and dignity of someone well accustomed to a crowd of minders.

"I ask again," he said with a little more sternness, "Who's trying to kill you?"

Dawson looked away briefly, thinking about what to say. In the past when these situations had arisen, she'd deflected all concern. Too many people had taken bullets for standing next to her, and just as it had every day since he'd been killed the hole in her shaped like Templeton ached.

When she met his eyes again she spoke at a volume implying discretion. "Probably a hitman, hired by Kane Reymont."

Gaines' reply was harsh and subdued at once, letting the people seeing to his injury and ongoing security know this was privileged information, not to be repeated if any of them wanted to keep their careers. "That portly confederate chicken leg? Is this revenge then, for ruining his half-baked scheme to be San Francisco's new mayor and running him back to the hills of Texas?"

Dawson lifted her brows slightly. "Sounds a little petty when you put it that way."

He turned his head to speak to one of his aides. "Call Captain Adeen. I want a brute squad put together."

Dawson extended both hands and slowly enfolded the sides of Gaines' face, at once regaining his full attention.

She said slowly, "Do not do that."

Everyone else present pointedly looked away from their suddenly intimate moment. Gaines said softly, "If that skull-measuring soy-butter ball thinks he can keep trying to kill you and never face retaliation he's even stupider than I thought he was. You may not mind being shot at, Dawson... How many people around you would take a bullet for you?"

"Too many," she admitted. "But let me do this my way."

His expression tightened. "Your way better end with that cretin in a cell." He reached up to his collar with one hand and pressed his thumb to the fabric, pulling it away bloody.

"I'll risk this for you, and I'll shed it for you just as quickly."

Her eyebrows went up in what she meant to be reassurance and not condescension. "I was on my own from the day I turned eleven, Gaines."

His reply was quick, starting out with his voice raised and then dropping sharply in volume when he remembered they were surrounded by other people. "Well you're--Well you're not alone now, Dawson. I can't fix things from twenty-eight years ago, I can fix what's in front of me."

Still holding his face, Dawson leaned forward and kissed him on the lips briefly, which he returned. "I know," she said softly. "You're the fixing kind and I'm grateful for it. I'll see you again soon."

Outside again there were dozens of security personnel on high alert. Drones in trios flew around the Orchard in tight patrols with full coverage of every building and window. Cranston raised his cybernetic hand to Dawson to get her attention, then wordlessly handed her a datapad with the information he knew she'd want to see.

A surveillance drone had spotted activity on one of the rooftops on the far side of the square, movement among the air conditioning units. The rigger on duty had quickly pulled up maintenance for the building and confirmed there was no servicing scheduled and immediately triggered a perimeter alert.

Through his implant Gaines was notified instantly; if he'd been inside there would have been a short delay to give security personnel time to assess the situation and form a report. Because he was outside it was corporate court regulation that he be informed so he could take cover.

Instead he'd pushed Dawson to safety, nearly getting a bullet in his neck for the sin. There had only been a five second gap between the notice and the timestamp of the first gunshot. Five seconds for him to see what was happening, the danger at hand, and decide his life was worth risking for hers. She wanted to go back inside and fuck him again just for that.

Drone swarms were flying over the district and a security team was combing the rooftop. Cranston's return fire had hit one of the AC units and driven the attacker away; some shaky footage from the drone that spotted the shooter showed a metahuman deploying a personal glider with wings made from reflective fabric that caused him to blend in with the urban environment around him. It appeared to have electronic signal shielding to deflect ranged scans, but one thing the drone could identify was that the device was nuclear-powered. In under a minute he outpaced the drone and dove into a narrow alleyway to break line of sight.

"Fucking hell," Dawson whispered, "This guy is a pro." It was a miracle neither she nor Gaines were dead.

Gaines' bodyguard was not the type to procrastinate or make small talk. He asked in his deep baritone, "How can we help?"

She thought for a moment and handed the datapad back to him. "A taxi. Someone has my car and may not bring it back right away."

Cranston's eyebrow went up slightly. Even before the occupation it was standard in higher-end vehicles provided by Knight-Errant to be biometrically keyed. His black sunglasses, the ones he never removed in public unless knocked off his face by the likes of her fist, betrayed nothing but behind them she knew he was wondering: who could be driving your car but you?

At that she smiled impishly. "Don't worry, you'll meet her soon. She'll come here soon to try to fuck Gaines to death. And you too, if you don't tell her no."

The slightest curl appeared at the corner of his mouth. He said, "I'll get you a taxi."

= = =

Last month of 2027

Abandoned Aluminum Mine in Henan Province, China

- - -

The last push towards Beijing had been disastrous. At dawn Gao Jin Wei had told Commander Zheng that something was wrong in the morning air, that they should call off the assault, but Zheng had set a hand on Jin Wei's shoulder and said Have faith, comrade. We are on the right side of history.

Somehow in spite of their intelligence efforts they'd been on the wrong side of the artillery.

The days since had been the most difficult of Jin Wei's life. Zheng and all the other senior officers were dead save for General Liang and Major Hu. The party leadership had been in debate over the next steps since even before the retreat back to the province. Some wanted to keep prosecuting the war against the dissidents, and some were pointing out that even with almost half their forces wiped out in Beijing they would soon be struggling to feed those that remained if they did not see to their infrastructure.

Jin Wei worried for the future. He had always been comfortable with the rank of lieutenant and with so much of the leadership gone, a new generation would need to take up the defense of the party, and the people.

As he dug his shovel into the side of the shaft by the light of his electric torch, Jin Wei found he was not afraid of dying in battle. It was starvation that he could not stave off with gun or sword. He could not feed his brother's children with bullets, could not water crops with a bayonet. Now more than ever the party needed resources, of the kind he hoped to find. Henan province had yielded aluminum in the past, before the so-called New Progress Party and their corporate puppet masters had brought about this terrible division in the people.

Momentarily overcome with a simmering rage, Jin Wei paused to wipe the sweat from his brow. He sought to distract himself from the thought of traitors and collaborators and foreign exploiters with the hope of some gleam among the stones. Even a single deposit would be a boon, he knew. The party leaders would know what to do with it.

But the fresh regrets were not easily shaken off. He found himself thinking, if only Commander Zheng had listened to me. Jin Wei's instincts for such things had never led him astray. It was said of late that magic had returned to the world in the time since Jin Wei had been born. Perhaps there was a shred of it in him, one that he could develop. One that would let him help the commune, in Henan, in China and all over the world.

That line of thinking led Jin Wei to an incriminating supposition. If there was magic in him then the failure was not in Zheng or the other officers but in Gao Jin Wei not being able to make them believe. If he'd tried harder--if he'd known what to say or how to express what he'd felt--then maybe many of his brothers and sisters in arms would still live. Maybe China would be whole.

Losing his balance in a reckless swing, Jin Wei toppled against the wall of the mine shaft and had to lean on his shovel to keep from falling over. He ended up on his knees, chest heaving as he grappled with the notion that he had failed in this way. Zheng had said often, history seldom hinges on just two shoulders. Fidel had Raul and Guevara, Ho Chi Minh had General Giap, and Zhen had insisted he had Gao Jin Wei.

He found his hands white-knuckled around the handle of the shovel. With a cry of frustration, mourning and guilt he swung the tool with all his might against the wall of the mine. For a dozen seconds it echoed down the carved-out rock corridors and when it was silent there was a faint rumbling that rose as if in answer.

Gao Jin Wei staggered to his feet, prepared to run in the event the mine was about to collapse. Layers of thin rock and dirt were vibrating off of the walls around him, billowing into fine clouds that obscured the light from his torch. The rumbling faded into utter silence save for his own heavy breath, and as that dust died down about him Jin Wei found there was a great deal more light in the mine.

This, he soon saw, was because the walls were no longer composed of rough rock that had years ago been stripped of ore. Now they were rough, angular surfaces of a reflective amber crystal the likes of which Gao Jin Wei had never seen.

It was bright now in the mine, like an overcast day, for the crystal carried the light of the torch to every place. Jin Wei was drawn to a mostly flat section of wall tall enough to show his whole body. From head to toe he was covered with dust, running in spots on his neck and face from where he'd been sweating during his desperate prospecting. This filthy man he seemed to be was a far cry from the well-dressed lieutenant of the People's Army that he remembered himself as.

If this is the commune's last hope, Gao Jin Wei thought, we are in a dire place.

He did not know what this was, but he suspected it was valuable. Jin Wei retrieved the handheld radio from the bag on his back and twisted its knob. The static was heavy, as he'd expected inside the mine, but it was his duty to report this as soon as possible.

"This is lieutenant Gao. Forward post, respond if you can hear this. I must speak to Major Hu."

Over the static there was a voice behind Jin Wei. It alarmed him for three reasons: that it was behind him in a place he thought he was alone, that it did not echo in the mine shaft, and that it was his own voice he heard speaking.

"I would not be so trusting, Gao Jin Wei."

Jin Wei spun around at once, hand reaching for the knife in its sheath on his belt. There was no one behind him, but the image of himself in the reflected crystal was standing up straight, not matching his adopted combat stance.

"Not all your comrades are as true to the cause as they claim."

His reflection was speaking to him, and acting of its own accord!

"What is this?" Jin Wei demanded. "What are you?"

Jin Wei's reflection smiled politely. The teeth inside its mouth were sharpened to points. "You are clever, Gao Jin Wei," it said. "You tell me."

Backing up a few steps, his heart hammering, Jin Wei drew the knife. In his other hand the radio crackled with the operator's voice back at the command post.

"... lieutenant Gao?... Repeat..."

Ignoring it for the moment, Jin Wei struggled to find his wits. "You are a spirit," he guessed.

The reflection of him nodded approvingly. "I am, Gao Jin Wei. I am a spirit, who has dwelled in this world for all your life and longer. Much longer. And I come... as a friend."

"A friend," Jin Wei said sharply, "Would wear his own face and not that of someone to whom he is a stranger."

The handheld went off again.... Gao! Major Hu... your report!"

Jin Wei glanced at the radio and back to the spirit in the amber. It said, still with his voice, "I have no face of my own, Gao Jin Wei. I cannot wear a face which has never existed and never will exist. And yours seemed the most practical to start our conversation with."

His nerves were frayed even before this frightful apparition had manifested. "What do you want? Do you haunt this mine? Whatever this substance is, it belongs to the people of China!"

"It does," the spirit agreed, and then its form beyond the surface of the crystal began to darken. Features melted into blackness, the silhouette becoming slightly shorter, slightly wider, morphing at the edges. When it was solid again and distinct, Jin Wei's face was no longer what it wore. It was the lightly bearded face of Major Hu.

"And who," it said in Hu's deep voice, "Are the enemies of the people?"

Jin Wei could not keep from backing up a few steps as Major Hu's bright white smile was directed at him with those same sharpened teeth. "I do not like what you are implying," he said, more sharply than he had intended. "Major Hu is--"

"Doing quite well for himself," the spirit finished. "So recently finding himself in a position to move up, when before the party leaders told him he was best utilized in his current position. And think of his newer friends he will be able to lend aid to, when he is General Hu of the People's Army!"

Major Hu had volunteered for the attack angle that would have been the most dangerous, and yet only he had escaped when all the other officers had been killed in action save Liang who was wounded by artillery fire that somehow landed directly on his command tent. As if the corporatists had known precisely where to direct their fire...

"I have seen Major Hu's best and newest friend," the spirit went on. It began to change again and when it was through the reflection was of a man that Jin Wei had not before seen. Long wisps of greying black hair trailed down from below his mouth and the top of his chin, capped at the end with gold bands. His hair was tied back into a tight bundle which trailed down his back like the tail of some beast, ending in a hunk of solid metal shaped like a fanged maw. His brow was heavy, his forehead wrinkled with great age, while the robe he wore seemed to be spun of strands of silver and pearl, all tinted amber by its nature as a reflection in the mirrored surface.

Gao Jin Wei's doubts overtook him and he spoke. "Who is this?"

"You look," the spirit said in a corrosive voice that rumbled inside him but still did not echo in the mine, "Upon the Great Eastern Dragon, Lung!" Two points of smoldering light were born in the creature's eyes that struck a primordial fear into Jin Wei's heart.

"Dragon?" he whispered, the hand around his knife's handle trembling at the thought. The corporatists--and Hu--were in league... with a dragon! "How can the people oppose such a creature?"

The image of Lung faded as the spirit became only a silhouette again. It spoke without a clear mouth, and the sound of its speech became a deep faintly feminine onethat Gao Jin Wei and his descendents would always think of as comforting.

"The people cannot fight a dragon with courage alone," it told him. "But I have come to help you, Gao Jin Wei. I have always been in this world, and always will be. I have looked into your soul and seen the virtue within you, and I know your heart is true. It is that of a hero, of the people, and of life."

The darkened spirit placed a hand on its side of the crystal, palm flat. The tips of its fingers ended in sharpened points. "I am a mentor spirit, Gao Jin Wei. Let me teach you... You and the rest of the party. To root out deceit, and to face the forces of this world that would oppress you. The dragons in all their guises."

Jin Wei could hear his own breathing again. The crackling of the radio seemed distant as he stowed it in his back and stuck his knife back in the sheath. He reached out with one shaking hand and pressed it to the crystal, over the spirit's own. He could feel warmth.

"Who are you?" he asked again.

The spirit's hand closed over his gently, slipping through the surface of the orichalcum as easily as if it had been made of mere light all along. Its grip was strong and gentle both.

It took form then as it began to step through from wherever it had been and came into the world. As it did so the shadows were banished, peeled away from the face of a human woman with high cheekbones and a piercing grey gaze. Straight hair of a raven persuasion fell down around her broad shoulders and Gao Jin Wei found himself being towered over by a figure nearly a head and a half higher in stature. Later he would meet foreigners in great quantities and he would know her features as american.

She emerged dressed in a uniform like that of the People's Army but all black with no rank or unit. And her teeth were still sharpened to points at the end when she spoke.

"I am," she said, "The Dragon Slayer."

Gao Jin Wei looked at where they were still holding hands. She raised her eyebrows and spoke again, softer.

"Now take me to your leaders."

= = =

The Greek Theatre east of Berkely had weathered the years with what could only be called good fortune. It had the good fortune to be situated within striking distance of the Lawrence Berkeley National Lab. After the UCAS ejected California in 2036, the LBL found its federal funding suddenly evaporated and was in a mood to listen when just days later every AAA megacorporation contacted them with offers of generous donations to keep their lights on and their personnel on staff.

They also promised protection in the event of hostilities with their neighbors, so the researchers at the LBL were happy to have made their arrangements when in the same month Aztlan invaded from the south, Tir Tairngire from the north and Japanese Imperial Marines--at the request of California's last governor--showed up in San Francisco and declared martial law to 'protect imperial interests.'

Knight Errant made certain that when Keiji Saito and his Protectorate went rogue, they were never able to threaten the LBL. The Greek Theatre had been used as a barracks during the second world war of the fifth world and Ares Macrotechnology was delighted to honor that memory by making it one of their staging areas for material and manpower. Dawson had never been assigned there because the area around the LBL had been so staunchly entrenched that the Protectorate never bothered getting near it, instead pursuing the slightly more palatable urban warfare to be had in Silicon Valley.

The campus was long gone but Research and development continued in pristine isolation up in the Berkeley Hills while the Greek Theatre became the responsibility of the people of Berkeley itself. Given that Normandy Village and Southside had been one of the most popular targets of the Protectorate for their death squads and had absolutely decimated the neighborhoods, it was no surprise the Theatre had fallen into disrepair.

But neo-pagans were fans of nature reclaiming territory. To the members of San Francisco's Mother Earth cell the ivy clinging to the old stone walls was a welcome addition of color. Once cleaned of the accumulated trash of past decades, the rows of benches were fit for sitting and for lying down on or between. With a little padding they'd be perfect for group sex during the new moon ceremony.

Instinct had parked the Firebird in the lot and climbed the hill that overlooked the theatre itself. A decade and a half ago soldiers of fortune in Knight Errant uniforms had squatted in this place in prefabricated tents; before that students had gathered here to watch actors and musicians play on the stage at the center. If she closed her eyes and steadied her breathing, she could almost feel the echoes of those lives, those people, could almost imagine the conversations and the emotions and the complex lives each of them had...

Now eco-terrorists dwelled here, plotting to overthrow the machine bleeding the planet dry. Soldiers in their own way, students of history and philosophy, and Instinct's extended family. They chatted, fletched, knitted and stitched among the seats. In the corner of one section a raven-headed woman was eating another out, her gasps and sighs echoing across the open space of the theatre as she clutched at the stone behind her with both hands, trembling from the effort of her lover's attentions. Music to their ears...

It was Instinct's inclination to join them but a fountain of strawberry blonde hair atop a wondrous body drew her attention to the stage. Queen Veer'dalai. The dramatic glance she gave towards Instinct would have made Calista envious of her flair and presence; sword in her hands, her aura radiated with smoldering regality and authority in a way few metahumans did. This was a woman who had dedicated herself to the domination of crowds with her looks so that she might dictate to them how the world should be.

Tranquility was intoxicating, but to someone who had grown weary of escape the buxom blonde woman's allure could be resisted. If Veer'dalai had been the one to abduct Dawson years ago and tempt her to the cause of Mother Earth, her conviction and promise of putting the world to rights--and her stunning body--might have captured Impulse's will.

It was clear that Veer wanted to talk and so Instinct descended the central stairway, straight towards the stage. Women made their way into Instinct's path to kiss her, squeeze her hands, breathe the scent from her neck, but never hold her up, and soon she was climbing onto the raised stone platform before the queen.

Instinct did not get up, remaining on her hands and knees before Veer. She spoke and the acoustics of the amphitheatre gave her words great warmth.

"You show such obeisance to your queen," Veer'dalai observed with obvious approval.

"It is my queen's purpose to be reminded of her superiority," Instinct supplied. Veer's smile was somewhere between vulnerable and entitled, and Instinct found herself becoming smitten. But that was no surprise; Instinct was smitten with all of metahumanity.

At Veer's beckoning Instinct rose and came to her. Instinct was slightly taller but Veer'dalai's muscle made her slightly broader, amplified by her wearing only a belt and pauldrons. Standing close to her, Instinct ran a hand over her rock-hard abdominal muscles and laced fingers into the generous mound of silken hair between her legs, tenderly at first to see if it was welcome. Veer closed her eyes indulgently and Instinct continued more boldly, middle finger finding its way to the top of her cunt to begin negotiating her clitoris out of its shelter.

Instinct spoke softly, "My human says we'd get more terrorism done if we didn't fuck each other so much."

The corners of Veer'dalai's lips curled slightly. "If we don't fuck each other as much as we can," she decreed, "There's no point to saving the Earth."

"I tell her that," Instinct said, "But she remains convinced there are other reasons."

Veer's hand closed over hers, tightening intimately. "Existence is... for this."

Instinct breathed deeply of her raw scent, her sweat, her skin and hair and rising sex. "Yes, my queen." Metahumanity had so much to offer...

Instinct was prepared to abandon the reason she'd come her and begin feeding on Veer'dalai's womanhood when the warrior-queen reasserted her authority. "An agent is here," she said in a sigh. "She is called a commissar, but her true role is none other than inquisitor, looking for deceit to expose."

As much as Instinct wanted to use her mouth for more sacred things, she surrendered to the circumstances demanding otherwise. "Why does Henan care to question us?"

"To see if our purpose is true," Veer said with clear distaste. "As if we've ever given anyone cause to doubt us."

Instinct kisses Veer's neck tenderly, biting ever so softly with her sharpened teeth. The woman didn't disapprove. "And yet you say we need them."

"We do," Veer replied. "The people of Henan have a vision that we are ever suspicious of..."

Finishing the thought for her, Instinct continued "But they say they want peace and safety for all. To smash the machine and break the chains."

"If this is true," Veer'dalai whispered, "Then we both serve Mother."

"And we're fighting fire with fire," Instinct concluded. "Henan might want a stateless society where everyone has enough. Will we let them burn the lungs of the Earth to make it happen?"

Veer's hand came up to seize Instinct's shoulder. "We will watch them," she said sharply. More evenly she repeated, "We will watch them. Answer her questions, Instinct Dawson. We have nothing to hide from fellow servants of The Realm."

The Realm. Veer'dalai liked to apply this name to the forces of good, of light and righteousness and happiness and beauty and all the other good things about metahumanity. "Yes, my Queen," she supplied. "Anything to bring a smile to your precious lips."

Those lips smiled now as Veer moved her hand to below Instinct's chin. "I will have you when you are through," she declared.

Instinct smiled back. "Why wait, your highness?"

For a moment, a thrilling and validating moment, Veer'dalai kissed her on the mouth and it seemed they were going to give in to nature's compulsion, but Veer displayed her admirable will by breaking the kiss noisily and insisting. "The inquisitor will complain, as she has been all day. I will endure a little longer without you."

Leaving her queen to the stage, Instinct continued through the doorway at the center of the stone wall that made up the backdrop. In the rear yard there was a tall and stately sycamore tree where Tranquility was lounging in the shade it offered. Two women were tending to her utterly bare body, rubbing her from heels to ears with butter hand-made out of mango grown in Amazonia.

The blonde woman's eyes cracked slightly, her expression indulgent in the extreme. At seeing Instinct, she parted her legs and ran one hand through the generous hair between her thighs, a feminine mane which had never known the edge of a blade and, Mother willing, never would. Instinct had seen that look before many times: I am the altar of Mother's beauty. Worship at me.

Instinct had, and wanted to, and would again, and at this moment could fall down beside the others and express her affection. Tranquility had no discipline; she would let the hours pass as others pampered her, fed on her in the ways they needed to feed, never demanding or commanding but only suggesting and inviting. The Corporate Court labeled her a cult leader, but Instinct thought it was more accurate to think of her as an idol. Of fertility, of naturalism, of unity.

In these moments the woman seemed far away from the biologist she had been during her time in the machine. Her aptitude for manipulation would reappear the moment it became necessary to the cause of saving Mother.

Tranquility's mere existence was manipulation on the part of the Earth, Instinct was certain. Crafted by Mother's love to seize Metahumanity by the hand and lead it back to Eden...

As much as Instinct wanted to surrender and revel, duty called. For the moment.

Beyond the sycamore was a collection of squat concrete buildings, once storage space and small offices for the theatre and those that came afterward. Mother Earth members had over time draped these buildings in vines and painted them with ink made from flowers milled in bowls. Up in the hills at the lab they were probably splitting atoms or accelerating particles, working to improve technology to try to let their benefactors watch from space what a group of ordinarily impoverished women were doing with their hands on concrete from the previous century.

They could watch the lounging and eating out all they wanted. Without traitors they would never know what was said within those walls, and none of them would ever turn.

Instinct found her inherited detective skills were adequate to the task of determining where the commissar was waiting for her, picking the office with the light on inside the window. The door was unlocked and unobstructed and she entered without knocking, stepping into a cool room with a ceiling almost too low for comfort. The old furniture of the previous world had been cleaned out and in its place were improvised benches broad enough for the average amazon's back, padded with the leather cut out of old car seats and stuffed with dried-moss to make them comfortable to exercise on, even with another person's weight added on.

Sitting on one of these benches, hands in her lap, was a woman of Chinese descent dressed in the green and red uniform of a People's Army commissar. While that uniform was spotless and well-maintained, no doubt having been ironed at dawn this morning, the woman herself--soft brown hair, light ruby eyes as sharp as a bayonet blade and a curious fullness around the biceps--was wearing an expression that mixed shock with recognition.

That was a good place to start her questioning. "You recognize me," Instinct inferred while closing the door behind her, "Which we both know should be impossible because we've never met before. And it's not from seeing this face on the Matrix newscasts, is it? Tranquility would have told you all about that. You've seen me, me specifically, teeth and claws and pulled-back hair, though maybe without the headband because that's kind of a regional thing. How am I doing so far?"

The woman watched silently as Instinct took hold of one of the benches and pulled it away from the wall. She set it at a distance that was almost intimate without being impolite and then sat down opposite the commissar.

"You're not pulling out a gun or sweating bullets so that means you're either happy to see me or at least neutral. You have the body language to suggest there ought to be a deep relationship between us and--" Here Instinct smiled briefly, showing her pointed teeth. "--I do hope that's going to be true, soon, but as we're all squarely on a bad side of the Corporate Court in these endeavors I'd say it's best we be as honest as we can. You're the guest, so you go first."

The woman was silent for another twenty seconds, looking Instinct in the eye and calculating. Impulse would have an idea what she was thinking, but Impulse wasn't here. Finally the woman spoke. Her English was only lightly accented.

"You resemble... No, you are the perfect replication of the appearance taken by a mentor spirit which has aided the state of Henan since the last days of the the civil war. When it walks among us it wears our clothes, and it does not have the tattoos you bear, but otherwise you are identical."

Instinct listened to this with clasped hands, maintaining eye contact with the commissar while thinking. After a few seconds of deliberation she asked, "Which mentor spirit?"

There was only a second of hesitation. Probably she was accustomed to saying that is on a need to know basis but chose instead to divulge it instantly. "The Dragon Slayer."

Instinct couldn't contain her surprise. "Whoa. That goes a long way towards explaining why Henan has been able to stick it to the megacorporations for the last half a century. You've got a guardian angel."

"She guides us," the woman clarified. "Advises us. Most often she reminds us of what we already know, and that helps us stay on the path we have chosen."

Smart spirit, Instinct thought. Then asked, "Does she fuck you?"

The woman's smile suggested more than her words revealed. "Rumors persist of the looks she shared with my father, and that she shared with his father, and his father. She neither confirms nor denies."

Instinct showed her teeth again with her grin. "That's as good as a confession in these circumstances."

"Her exact connection to the male side of my lineage is unclear. She is not, as the saying goes, a village bicycle."

"Well," Instinct said, "No one's perfect. Before we go any further, do you think that I am the Dragon Slayer?"

The commissar shook her head. "From what I have been told by Mother Earth, you did not exist until a relatively short time ago, and we have never known the Dragon Slayer to be anything other than honest. Wry, and sometimes provocative, but never deceitful."

"That's good," Instinct sighed. "I fuck a lot of people and I don't want to get a reputation for otherwise."

Her laughter was good-natured and sincere. "You Mother Earth believers are quite libertine," she observed tactfully. "I had heard reports of course, but no amount of digital accounts will prepare you for seeing a woman begin to receive oral sex while you are having a conversation with her."

Instinct shook her head sadly. "If we kept any men around we'd really be behind schedule."

Still smiling the woman reached out with her left hand. "I am Gao Li Yun."

Instinct seized the hand with one of hers, carefully lacing the fingers together in a way that made Li Yun raise a brow. She leaned forward enough to press lips quietly to the back of the woman's hand, and then spoke with a deadly serious tone.

"Did you send Kincaid to kill Thomas Gaines, and himself in the process?"

The woman stiffened her posture but didn't move to take back her hand. "I informed him that one of our highest value targets was in the area and he volunteered to assassinate them. GreenWar understands the value of sacrifice in a way few others do, including the partisans of Henan."

Still holding onto her hand, Instinct spoke at a volume barely more than whisper. "Why?"

"Because he was close to Damien Knight," Li Yun said evenly. "And we have a vested interest in ensuring Arthur Voegel remains at the head of Ares Macrotechnology for as long as possible."

Instinct's eyes narrowed. "You took the initiative," she guessed. "He didn't tell you to kill Gaines, you just decided it was a good idea."

"All of our information suggested that he was a committed Knight loyalist," Li Yu said slowly. "Had we known he was under the spell of your human counterpart we would never have considered touching him."

Instinct couldn't keep the venom out of her voice and it took all her control not to grip Li Yu's hand savagely. "This was a near fucking miss, Gao Li Yu. Three decent people could have died and that's assuming no collateral damage. GreenWar agreed not to conduct any bombings in San Francisco but you gave them the go-ahead anyway. Helped Kincaid get through security."

Li Yun too struggled to contain her voice. Below the collar of her green and red uniform her skin was suddenly flush. "This is a fight for the survival of metahuman kind," she said sternly, "And the planet. Do you think that the defeat of the forces of global capital can be accomplished without some collateral damage, or some cases of death dealt which was in error? Your personal affection cannot shield everyone on both sides of the conflict!"

"I'm not entirely like my human," Instinct said fiercely. "I'll take life if I have to. For this world, for its people. I'll tell you the same thing I told Kincaid: go to another city, try to harm another executive, I can't stop you. Do it in mine and we will have more than words. I'll forgive this once and I won't forgive it again."

Li Yun exhaled slowly and met Instinct's gaze. "You would destroy the alliance between the forces of good in this world for the sake of lives you deem worth saving? You would let evil reign?"

"I'm not interested in being part of a side that's merely a different kind of evil," Instinct answered. Slowly she let go of Li Yun's hand and the woman put it back in her lap with its twin. "I'm still a little skeptical of you," she went on, "But that won't keep me from fucking you if you want to."

At this Gao Li Yun smiled in a slightly strained way. "Let us start with questions, if you would indulge me. I have already questioned all your fellow believers."

Crossing her arms and leaning back, Instinct asked "Is this meant to determine my ideological purity? See if I'm compatible with communism?"

"The goal of the questioning is manyfold," the commissar explained. "There are no wrong answers."

Instinct gestured her assent and the woman cleared her throat.

"Why are there poor people?"

"Oh," Instinct said, "And here I was worried this was going to be heavy philosophical lifting. I interpret this as 'why do some have too little,' and the answer is because some have too much. Not complicated, and anyone who claims otherwise is probably selling something." She smiled in a manner she hoped looked smug "Next question?"

Li Yun, who had no doubt spent years on end asking this question and others like it, nodded in agreement. "And how would you go about fixing this?"

"Take from the rich," Instinct said, "Give to the poor. I swear I've heard that somewhere before."

"And if the rich don't want to be taken from?" Li Yun asked with her best impersonation of impartiality.

Instinct's smile fell away immediately. "Now why would they take exception to a thing like that," she wondered aloud.

"I am obligated," Li Yun said, "To ask if you have a sincere response."

"I'll be charitable and say they don't know what they have or what it's like not to have it. Being born with enough sometimes prevents someone from empathizing properly with those that don't. We can show them the error of their ways. Psilocybin and lubricant are the way to unity."

The commissar's brows went up. "All of them?"

The question did not feel like one of theory, and Instinct had to admit the topic stoked a fire in her. The part that imitated Dawson and wanted to protect people. "I will admit, sometimes I get the feeling that some of them know full well what they're doing."

"We have a list," Li Yun confided softly.

Instinct didn't hesitate. "I'd like to see that list."

The commissar offered her hand again and Instinct took it. Her fingers squeezed. "In time," she assured.

"Time is something I have a great deal of," Instinct promised. Then amended, "In an existential sense. I have to bring my human back her car at some point."

"I need to meet her as well," Li Yun said. "You can introduce me, I hope."

Now Instinct could smile again. "She'll like you. For a political officer, you're pretty jacked. And your aura reads like a neon sign of a pyramid with an eye on it. You an adept?"

A nod. "All commissars of Henan possess awakened talent."

"That a requirement?"

"A consequence, actually. The Dragon Slayer sees to it."

Now that was curious. "She... engenders the talent?"

Li Yun lifted one hand in an uncertain gesture. "She says she only brings out the magic that is present, but her success rate is one-hundred percent."

"Sounds like someone gives magic hand jobs."

Gao Li Yun couldn't keep from laughing. "When Tranquility spoke of you I thought she was overstating your mirth. She says your human is frightful when she is upset and you inherited little of it."

"Impulse is a scarred person," Instinct said quickly. "She's had a lot of bad hands dealt to her. I promise you she's a wonderful metahuman when you get to know her."

"I do not doubt that," Li Yun stated. "And if recent matrix footage is to be believed, her hand jobs are also quite magical."

"Oh, you have no idea!"

"I think you are compatible with Henan's vision," Li Yun said with finality. "This was not unexpected. The goal of Mother Earth appears to be the part that most communists agree comes after communism."

Instinct smiled hopefully. "Sex?"

The commissar scoffed fondly. "At least a little, yes."

Leaning forward on the bench Instinct asked, "Hey, you're not giving me a pass just because I look like the spirit that taught you magic, are you?" Li Yun shook her head looking amused and Instinct pressed further. "And the Dragon Slayer, she's a communist? Far as I know there's no documented case of a mentor spirit taking an interest in

"On that part we have never been quite sure. Like you, I think if we became an oppressive institution she would be aiding others in engineering our destruction." Li Yun paused for a moment as if considering how to phrase the next thing she wanted to say. Eventually it came out.

"She says that our way appears to be the best way to prepare the world for what is to come."

Instinct's jaw tightened. "As a fragment of what is to come," she said, "I can tell you that the world as it is now is not ready. There's a lot of extremely dangerous dragons on the way."

Gao Li Yun reached out and took Instinct's hand again. "And the People's Army," she said confidently, "Will slay them."

"And that's done," Instinct asked carefully, "By keeping me and my human in the dark."

At this Li Yun pursed her lips. "The correct framing for this is that you are instrumental to the plans in motion. We depend on you to act as we trust that you will."

Instinct wasn't sure how she felt about that. "How can it not be better just to tell us?"

"Maybe it isn't," Li Yun admitted softly. "It is entirely possible we will regret trying to use you in this manner."

Instinct stood up, looming over the still seated commissar. "I can forgive anything done to me. It's everyone else I'm worried about."

Li Yun met her gaze resolutely. "As are we. Stay with Impulse Dawson, who I suspect even now is close to uncovering things she must not."

Once more Instinct's eyes narrowed. "I'm not going to hide things from her and I doubt I could stop her if I wanted to."

At this the woman smiled. "No, of course not. But I suspect that once she sees what is coming, she will, as the vernacular goes, 'play ball.'"

"You're putting all our rounds into one magazine with this," Instinct warned her. "Might be the best one on the market but even the best one can be kicked away in a fight."

"All our hopes," Li Yun intoned, "Go with you."

Pursing her lips, Instinct said "Well then, guess I have to pull through. For the people. Now ah... if we're not going to have sex, I'm going to go find my human and have sex with her."

The commissar's smile was again polite. "I fear that when I begin having sex with members of Mother Earth, they will never let me stop. And I have tasks yet left to accomplish in this life."

Instinct regarded Gao Li Yun with a long gaze. "I think I expected someone different. Someone who was every bit as bad as corporate actors but with politics as the drug of choice. You're not like that at all and it's a relief."

"The communists of the past were too political," Li Yun said. "They wanted to compete with capitalists and fascists."

"And what do you want to do?"

"Convert their people. Their customers and their subjects. Ours is a way of life, not just a system of government. Once people see it, they will lend their hands."

Instinct hoped that was true. "Do we get to meet the Dragon Slayer?"

Li Yun's brows went up and her words came quickly. "I do not possess the authority to tell the Dragon Slayer what to do. I do not expect to return to Henan for some time, and even then she appears when and where she chooses..."

"Well," Instinct said, rolling her shoulders, "If I meet anyone who looks like me I'll just fuck them. It's never steered me wrong before."

- - -

AllNaturalDame: All this hair and so little cunt. I need yours too.

Det. Dawson: I'm in Oakland.

AllNaturalDame: Are you fucking orks? Without me?

Det. Dawson: If you bring me my car, I might wait for you before I start dropping bodies.

AllNaturalDame: Firebird's starting now.

AllNaturalDame: This commissar said Henan has help from the Dragon Slayer.

Det. Dawson: Really? They're smart not to advertise that fact.

AllNaturalDame: Also the Dragon Slayer looks like me. And therefore you.

DetDawson: Magic more than accounts for the how, but why?

AllNaturalDame: She's a mentor spirit with good taste.

DetDawson: My reputation can't handle getting any better.

AllNaturalDame: Think of the trideos we could put out. The girls are going to lose their minds!

DetDawson: They barely have minds to lose as it is!

AllNaturalDame: Three is a number of power, isn't it?

DetDawson: I should sue for identify theft.

AllNaturalDame: I'm coming with your restitution right now.