"These men are working on such a disease?" Hamilton asked.
"We think so . . . for a number of reasons."
Hamilton looked at Caruthers and sighed. "All right; sign me up."
"You have a long and intense training program ahead of you, then."
"I have one question:
"No," Mary said, "not money."
Castle Noisvastei, Province of Baya, 22 Sha'ban, 1536 AH (18 June, 2112)
Ling waited until the fat man had left before easing into Petra's room and crawling into bed next to her, conforming her own body to Petra's like one spoon to another. When Ling put her arm around her, Petra was stiff and unresponsive. Then again, she always was whenever that grotesquery in vaguely human form came to visit her.
"Bad, honey?" Ling asked.
Petra sniffled, "He didn't even grease my ass first . . . and I had to pretend I liked it. Oh, God, Ling . . . I
"There are worse things," Ling said, thinking of the computer- controlled creatures down below.
"That's the worst part," Petra wailed. "I
Under the circumstances, Ling didn't even try to make love to Petra. Instead she just held her tightly and softly kissed her hair while the sixteen-year old houri cried herself to sleep.
For while Ling had told the truth about having been sold when she was four, she'd neglected to mention that she had a chip in her head as well, one planted there when she was purchased by MSS and just before she was "sold west." In her case, however, nothing had been removed from her brain. Instead, she'd had a whole suite of things implanted—little things, mostly: loyalty, duty . . . code words and phrases . . . field craft.
Not even the Hindus did better human programming than did the Celestial Kingdom of the Han, once known as the Peoples Republic of China.
OSI Headquarters, Langley, Virginia, 19 June, 2112
"My local contact is a
Caruthers sighed. "She's a slave girl, a prostitute. More specifically, she's an implanted agent. She has a chip in her head. The Chinese have been doing this kind of thing for thirty years. It's the major reason we stopped allowing immigration from China."
"That's abominable."
Caruthers gave a characteristic shrug. "We do the same things with convicted criminals. So they don't
"But we're at war with them."
Caruthers put out one hand, palm down and fingers spread. He wagged it, saying, "Not by declaration. Almost everybody is at war with almost everybody, these days, and all the time, too. What that means in practice though is that nobody's at war—not emotionally, anyway—unless bullets are actually flying. So, yeah, we're at war with them but, also yeah, we can cooperate."
"Do we know anything else about this woman?"
"We have a picture, sort of," Caruthers answered, then produced a hologram of that. The hologram was . . . decidedly odd, out of focus, as if taken through a bad lens.
"Awfully white, for a Chinese. Unusually large breasts, too. Why is the picture so fuzzy?"
"She's also relatively tall. The chinks were coy. We think she was specially bred, maybe even genengineered, for exoticism. As for the picture . . . our best guess is that the camera was her own eye, tapped by the chip in her head."
Hamilton had a sudden thought and as suddenly looked ill. "Jesus, that's vile. This poor girl was chipped, then sold as a hooker, and everything she does is recorded for anyone to see. And she
"Look, I didn't make the world," Caruthers said testily. "I don't even approve. I just observe and report. They sell us—we buy from them— redundant human organs and we should balk over a little incidental voyeurism?"
Rocking his head from side to side, Hamilton grudgingly agreed. "Okay. Sure. Go on. What's her name, by the way?"
"Zheng Ling."
Castle Noisvastei, Province of Baya, 22 Sha'ban, 1536 AH (18 June, 2112)
"Petra, Honey, wake up," Ling said, while gently shaking the girl awake.
"What is it, Ling?" Petra asked sleepily.
"I just got the word. There's a big group of new-minted janissaries coming to the castle for their graduation party. We have to prepare. It's going to be a busy few nights."
Petra groaned. After all, she was still sore.
