Read Online The Gentle Seduction by Marc Stiegler - Free Book Online
Authors: Marc Stiegler
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departing, but that I would return the following day, all of Forma jumped to clear airspace; they knew I would only announce my plans if I could not be stopped.
They had seen me die on stage, under the eyes of their own cameras, in Springform. Yet I had lived to kill again in Summer. They thought I was an immortal god. They were fools.
Today, four more people would die.
But perhaps other people's lives, or at least some of the time of their lives, would be saved.
"Safire?"
"Yes, Gibs."
"Call the heads of state of Forma."
"All at once?"
"Oh, start with the Directress of Winterform."
One by one Safire and I went through the names, telling them to meet me in sixteen hours at Skycrest for a brief trip to the radiation belt.
The Sirians and Omegarans were furious, I was sure; but they could only attack me if they attacked together , in mutual trust. I pointed out to the Sirian commander that the Omegaran commander looked the right age to need a mindshift; I made a reciprocal comment to the Omegaran. Fearful that I had made a deal with their enemy, each fumed in silence. Each held his fleet idle.
At the appointed time, I ferried the Forman leaders in Glitter up to the Safire. They were impressed, which was why I took them aloft: Safire is a big ship. She carries a cargo of 2000 clone bodies, with the facilities to manufacture more, plus two entire Transfer systems (in case one breaks down), enough room for a twenty man crew (though I live alone most of the time), and a composite arsenal of all the deadliest weapons devised by the most advanced planets in the reaches of Man.
I looked at my guests from the head of the conference table. There was the Grantsman of Summerform with his wife; they seemed more concerned with their own lives than with the death of their daughter Karmel. That concern explained why I had met with Karmel on the beach and had been touched by her with impunity: the Grantsman had been afraid to interfere. I could understand their concern; I could not appreciate it. Karmel had been far more worthy than her parents.
There was Hawk Keensight of Springform. I smiled at him; he sweated. I suspected he might know more about the Playmaster. In time he would tell me everything he knew. People talk a great deal when their lives are at stake.
There was President Bardon of Fallform. He was my only current suspect for Playmaster, though Safire had already told me he lacked the tungstalloy skull of one with many Transfers. Also, he was terrified that he would not receive Transfer, a puzzling level of fear for the one I sought. It mattered little; he too would speak to me when his time came to lie beneath my knife.
And there was the Directress of Winterform. Her hair was silver, and she needed Transfer soon, or it would be too late. Yet she did not flinch under my steady gaze. She was a truly regal lady.
"So far, I have killed only secondary leaders in your governments," I began. "But as you now see, the execution of those who don't measure up is the least of my tools. I am a mindshifter first, and an assassin second.
"I have bad news for you," I continued. "The Sirians and the Omegarans are powerless, here on the Frontier." I stood erect, hands behind my back. It had been long since I projected not merely presence, but power; yet I remembered. "Power on Forma lies with the Frontier mindshifter in whose jurisdiction you lie." I smiled. "My jurisdiction."
I explained to them the nature of the system. They believed. I explained to them what would have to happen, if any of them hoped for a second lifetime. They understood. I appointed a council of respected scientistsfrom each form, to mediate the use of the radiation belt. They accepted.
The war ended.
I returned the leaders to their respective peoples. The Directress of Winterform stayed long enough to have a private chat. She was a good person. I would arrange her Transfer.
I shuddered; I still didn't know if I could shift a mind. I didn't want to find
They had seen me die on stage, under the eyes of their own cameras, in Springform. Yet I had lived to kill again in Summer. They thought I was an immortal god. They were fools.
Today, four more people would die.
But perhaps other people's lives, or at least some of the time of their lives, would be saved.
"Safire?"
"Yes, Gibs."
"Call the heads of state of Forma."
"All at once?"
"Oh, start with the Directress of Winterform."
One by one Safire and I went through the names, telling them to meet me in sixteen hours at Skycrest for a brief trip to the radiation belt.
The Sirians and Omegarans were furious, I was sure; but they could only attack me if they attacked together , in mutual trust. I pointed out to the Sirian commander that the Omegaran commander looked the right age to need a mindshift; I made a reciprocal comment to the Omegaran. Fearful that I had made a deal with their enemy, each fumed in silence. Each held his fleet idle.
At the appointed time, I ferried the Forman leaders in Glitter up to the Safire. They were impressed, which was why I took them aloft: Safire is a big ship. She carries a cargo of 2000 clone bodies, with the facilities to manufacture more, plus two entire Transfer systems (in case one breaks down), enough room for a twenty man crew (though I live alone most of the time), and a composite arsenal of all the deadliest weapons devised by the most advanced planets in the reaches of Man.
I looked at my guests from the head of the conference table. There was the Grantsman of Summerform with his wife; they seemed more concerned with their own lives than with the death of their daughter Karmel. That concern explained why I had met with Karmel on the beach and had been touched by her with impunity: the Grantsman had been afraid to interfere. I could understand their concern; I could not appreciate it. Karmel had been far more worthy than her parents.
There was Hawk Keensight of Springform. I smiled at him; he sweated. I suspected he might know more about the Playmaster. In time he would tell me everything he knew. People talk a great deal when their lives are at stake.
There was President Bardon of Fallform. He was my only current suspect for Playmaster, though Safire had already told me he lacked the tungstalloy skull of one with many Transfers. Also, he was terrified that he would not receive Transfer, a puzzling level of fear for the one I sought. It mattered little; he too would speak to me when his time came to lie beneath my knife.
And there was the Directress of Winterform. Her hair was silver, and she needed Transfer soon, or it would be too late. Yet she did not flinch under my steady gaze. She was a truly regal lady.
"So far, I have killed only secondary leaders in your governments," I began. "But as you now see, the execution of those who don't measure up is the least of my tools. I am a mindshifter first, and an assassin second.
"I have bad news for you," I continued. "The Sirians and the Omegarans are powerless, here on the Frontier." I stood erect, hands behind my back. It had been long since I projected not merely presence, but power; yet I remembered. "Power on Forma lies with the Frontier mindshifter in whose jurisdiction you lie." I smiled. "My jurisdiction."
I explained to them the nature of the system. They believed. I explained to them what would have to happen, if any of them hoped for a second lifetime. They understood. I appointed a council of respected scientistsfrom each form, to mediate the use of the radiation belt. They accepted.
The war ended.
I returned the leaders to their respective peoples. The Directress of Winterform stayed long enough to have a private chat. She was a good person. I would arrange her Transfer.
I shuddered; I still didn't know if I could shift a mind. I didn't want to find
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