Descending Road - A LONG HUNT BEGINS by Dana W. Paxson

A LONG HUNT BEGINS

1529 4D

Gullinder scanned the wall of data. The andro seemed to die, but then he, or someone using his name, appeared later to start trouble once more. Other andros gathered, and the damned maintenance virus mutants would break out again, and then Gullinder would have to notify City by the usual channels — his embedded spies in their ranks — that they were loose once more. Then he’d order the andro scrubbing to cleanse the human world again, and hold back the tide for a little longer.

He lowered his gaze, and massaged his neck. Its heavy muscles always tensed when he spent all this time studying Jeddin and Jeddin‘s mysterious reappearances. Jeddin was his headache, his backache, and his hemorrhoids, even though hemorrhoids were only a memory thousands of years old in human history. Now the ancient brand name “Preparation H” referred to a popular relaxant at topside andro bars where Jeddin and his cronies played the knife game for money.

No one understood. Not even Talizirin, nor Frintar, nor any of the other leaders, and least of all the corp heads. Gullinder could at least count on Arlen, ruthless as he was, to take firm steps when they were needed: relocations, scrubbings, interventions with other corps, sabotage of the colls whenever possible. But Arlen always needed watching.

“They’re here.” Gullinder‘s admin called in from the outer office, his Hau Ren tones coloring his words.

“Send them,” Gullinder said. His deep voice echoed a bit in the oval chamber he used for his office.

Two lean, muscular figures in silver skinsuits, one female, one male, stepped in and stared at Gullinder with large dark eyes. They seemed to float on their feet, moving with grace, perfect balance, and sinewy flexibility: Hounds.

“You are?” Gullinder knew their names, but wanted to hear them speak.

The woman said, “I am Teerinasi. He is Nessim-lai.” Her voice was high, nasal.

“Do you speak for him?”

“No.”

The man grinned, lowering his look a bit, and spoke in a near-growl. “She is smarter than I am, so she speaks first.”

“Are you vat-partners?”

Both nodded. The woman said, “We’ve been out for two weeks. Our training in-vat took a year.” The two exchanged a look that told Gullinder they fucked often.

Hound training demanded in-vat work on andro tracking, combat, interrogation, and assassination that consumed most of the year. The little remaining time in the vat gave the Hounds a façade of personality sufficient to keep them from killing the wrong people, at least the greater part of the time. Strictly speaking, their makeup violated most provisions of Gene Law, but Gullinder‘s security mandates overrode the law.

There was no point in bandying words with these semi-people. Gullinder handed the woman a folded but slightly-wrinkled skinsuit. “His name is Jeddin,” he told her, as he had told dozens before her.

The woman inhaled scent and DNA from the garment, and passed it to the man, who did the same thing, handing it back to Gullinder with a small smile.

“Find him, torture him, get all the information he has about the andros, and then kill him. Burn the body with the usual protocols, and spread the ashes to the sky.”

They nodded. He watched them turn and leave. Maybe, this time, these two would succeed.

Story List	SURPRISE ME	Author Page
USER SURVEY	PUZZLE ME	MAKE ELM MARK

HOVER Lucida Bright BARE	HOVER Lucida Bright FULL	HOVER Palatino Linotype BARE
HOVER Palatino Linotype FULL	HOVER Times New Roman BARE	HOVER Times New Roman FULL
PAD Arial BARE	PAD Arial FULL	PAD Lucida Bright BARE
PAD Lucida Bright FULL	PAD Times New Roman BARE	PAD Times New Roman FULL


	A LONG HUNT BEGINS 1529 4D Gullinder scanned the wall of data. The andro seemed to die, but then he, or someone using his name, appeared later to start trouble once more. Other andros gathered, and the damned maintenance virus mutants would break out again, and then Gullinder would have to notify City by the usual channels — his embedded spies in their ranks — that they were loose once more. Then he’d order the andro scrubbing to cleanse the human world again, and hold back the tide for a little longer. He lowered his gaze, and massaged his neck. Its heavy muscles always tensed when he spent all this time studying Jeddin and Jeddin‘s mysterious reappearances. Jeddin was his headache, his backache, and his hemorrhoids, even though hemorrhoids were only a memory thousands of years old in human history. Now the ancient brand name “Preparation H” referred to a popular relaxant at topside andro bars where Jeddin and his cronies played the knife game for money. No one understood. Not even Talizirin, nor Frintar, nor any of the other leaders, and least of all the corp heads. Gullinder could at least count on Arlen, ruthless as he was, to take firm steps when they were needed: relocations, scrubbings, interventions with other corps, sabotage of the colls whenever possible. But Arlen always needed watching. “They’re here.” Gullinder‘s admin called in from the outer office, his Hau Ren tones coloring his words. “Send them,” Gullinder said. His deep voice echoed a bit in the oval chamber he used for his office. Two lean, muscular figures in silver skinsuits, one female, one male, stepped in and stared at Gullinder with large dark eyes. They seemed to float on their feet, moving with grace, perfect balance, and sinewy flexibility: Hounds. “You are?” Gullinder knew their names, but wanted to hear them speak. The woman said, “I am Teerinasi. He is Nessim-lai.” Her voice was high, nasal. “Do you speak for him?” “No.” The man grinned, lowering his look a bit, and spoke in a near-growl. “She is smarter than I am, so she speaks first.” “Are you vat-partners?” Both nodded. The woman said, “We’ve been out for two weeks. Our training in-vat took a year.” The two exchanged a look that told Gullinder they fucked often. Hound training demanded in-vat work on andro tracking, combat, interrogation, and assassination that consumed most of the year. The little remaining time in the vat gave the Hounds a façade of personality sufficient to keep them from killing the wrong people, at least the greater part of the time. Strictly speaking, their makeup violated most provisions of Gene Law, but Gullinder‘s security mandates overrode the law. There was no point in bandying words with these semi-people. Gullinder handed the woman a folded but slightly-wrinkled skinsuit. “His name is Jeddin,” he told her, as he had told dozens before her. The woman inhaled scent and DNA from the garment, and passed it to the man, who did the same thing, handing it back to Gullinder with a small smile. “Find him, torture him, get all the information he has about the andros, and then kill him. Burn the body with the usual protocols, and spread the ashes to the sky.” They nodded. He watched them turn and leave. Maybe, this time, these two would succeed.