Reede raised his hand, finally, reluctantly, letting his hands fall away. He stared at Kedalion with nightmare going on and on behind his eyes. But one hand moved, slowly, uncertainly, reaching out.
Kedalion caught it, held on; caught the unexpected weight of Reede’s body as the younger man swayed forward and clung to him blindly, like a child. “Reede,” Kedalion said again, and, finally, “What happened … ?”
Reede pushed away from him, falling back against the side of the table, letting it support him as though he had used up all his strength in the effort of reaching out. “Jaakola …” he said, and for a moment the light of coherence began to fade from his eyes. He pressed his hand against his mouth, held it there, finally let it fall to his side again. “Mundilfbere. Killed her, she’s dead … tortured her to death.” He turned his face away, toward the incinerator chute. Kedalion pressed his lips together. Reede stared at him, with his throat working. “And he—he said … said … I don’t know who I am. What I am. I’m just meat. She used me, brainwiped me, put somebody else’s mind inside me. … I don’t understand—!” His fists clenched, his face twisted, spasming. Kedalion waited, until after a time Reede’s breathing eased, and he opened his eyes again.
“Who—?” Kedalion murmured.
“Mundilfoere! He said she loved me… .”Reede’s voice broke. “But I’m just meat.”
Kedalion shook his head. “He was lying. He said it to hurt you—”
“No!” The word was a pain cry. “Does your life make sense?”
Kedalion laughed. “Not right now, boss …” he said; and regretted it instantly as Reede’s eyes darkened with nightmare.
“Do your memories fit together—!” Reede spat out, trembling, “Damn you.”
Kedalion offered his hand; Reede’s fist closed over it in a deathgrip, holding on. “Yes,” he said steadily. “It makes sense. They fit together.”
“Mine don’t,” Reede whispered. “It’s like somebody set off a grenade in my brain. Wreckage … fragments … don’t fit together, no way at all. Some of tiern completely impossible. Working vacuum in deep space, no suit on … worldhopping—worlds that don’t exist, on real starships, not coinships. People I don’t know, making love to me….” His hand reached up, touching his earcuff. “I had one of these once … it let me … I’d just think, and talk to somebody on another planet, interface like a navigator, access a datanet that makes the sibyl mind seem like … like …” He tugged on the earcuff, jerked it off, with a curse. “I keep trying to find one like the one I had. … I keep thinking if I could just find one like that, I could call them, and they’d come … let me out of this flesh prison full of wreckage…. But it never works, because it doesn’t exist yet, or anymore….” He lifted his hands, staring at them as if they belonged to a stranger. “Ilmarinen—!”
Kedalion bit his tongue, and said nothing.
“It’s real!” Reede caught the look that registered on his face; Reede’s hand caught him by the front of his coveralls, shook him, shoved him away. “I’m not crazy, I’m not! I’m a fucking genius; how else could I know what I know? I never finished school! Who am I really? What am I—? I tried—tried to ask her … but I couldn’t remember the questions. I’d get crazy because I was so afraid…. And forget… forget, she told me. She’d put her mouth on mine … put her hands on me like that, like that … oh gods …” His own hands slid down his body, clenched on his coveralls. His head fell forward. “And I’d always forget… . Because I was just meat.”
“Reede,” Kedalion said softly. “You’re a man. She loved you.”
Reede opened his eyes, looked up again, almost sane.
“She loved you,” Kedalion repeated.
“But she’s dead …” Reede said thickly.
Kedalion nodded, looking down.
Reede looked at his branded palm, the eye staring back at him. “He’s probably listening to us right now, that—” He broke off, and spat, as if he couldn’t find words ugly enough, filled with enough hatred and pain. “Watching me howl, watching me bleed. Jerking my chain—” He ran unsteady hands through his sweat-soaked hair, looking toward the cubicles where he had found the drug. “He told me … said I won’t kill myself. Won’t go crazy. Just go on, holding the pieces together, doing anything he wants … because I figure if I live long enough, I’ll find a way to get back at him. … He doesn’t think it’ll happen.” Reede lifted his head. “It’ll happen!” he shouted. “You’re my meat, you rotting piece of crud.” His hand closed over the ring, the medal, dangling against his heart. His voice dropped to a whisper. “If you’re not dead meat now, you will be. I swear it.” The man Kedalion knew was looking out of Reede’s eyes again, hungry, deadly, and perfectly rational.
“What does he want from you?” Kedalion asked. “The stardrive?”
Reede’s mouth twisted. “Oh yeah … for a start. Got the plasma already, probably got your ship and the drive unit, too. Wants me to breed plasma so he can sell it. Shit work. That’s not my big job. … He says when the time’s right we’re going to Tiamat—”
“Tiamat?” Kedalion said blankly. Realization caught him. “The water of life-“
Reede nodded. “Tiamat,” he whispered. “The water of life …”His gaze faded, as his mind went somewhere else; as if it couldn’t help itself, drawn compulsively to the challenge of making the impossible real
“Can you—?” Kedalion asked.
Reede blinked at him. His eyes filled with fleeting panic, sudden pain, as he remembered where he was again. He held his breath; let it out in a ragged sigh. “We’ll see,” he said, and shrugged. His hand came up, touching Kedalion’s bruised face gently, as he had touched it before. “I hurt you bad—?”
Kedalion thought about it, shook his head. “I’ve had worse.”
Reede pushed to his feet, moving gracefully again. He offered his hand to help Kedalion up. “Niburu,” he muttered, looking away. “You know now. Don’t ever fuck with me like that again. I will kill you.”
Kedalion nodded slowly. “What’s the drug?” he asked.
“Don’t ask,” Reede said. “There’s no point.” He rubbed his face. “I want to sleep. Got a lot of work to do, tomorrow.” His voice turned bitter. “Got a lot of answers to find, before I die. …” They started back toward the open door.
Reede stopped abruptly, as they crossed the threshold; caught Kedalion’s wrist, turning up his palm. He looked at the eye; met Kedalion’s gaze again. “You always hated this job,” he muttered. “Why didn’t you quit me, years ago, while you had the chance?”
“You wouldn’t let me,” Kedalion said, looking pointedly at Reede’s hand trapping his own.
Reede laughed, and let him go. “You could’ve quit,” he murmured. “I never marked you as property, like this. If you’d hated me enough, you would have gone anyway.” He looked curious. “You’ve had reason enough to hate me, considering all I’ve done to you. Why didn’t you leave?”
Kedalion touched his palm, winced. Property. “I don’t know, boss.” He looked up again, into Reede’s dark curiosity. “Maybe because in all the times you swore at me, and even knocked me around, you never once insulted me about my height.”
KHAREMOUGH: Pernatte Estate
Gundhalinu stood in the drape-lined alcove of the guest room, dwarfed by the expanse of the windows, which were half again his own height; enjoying the momentary solitude and peace, the momentary lack of motion. It struck him that lately he always seemed to find himself looking out of windows. He wondered just what it was he was looking for.