Descending Road - FORMAL INTRODUCTIONS by Dana W. Paxson

FORMAL INTRODUCTIONS

1529 4D

Turiosten, dying again, looked out through the woman paramedic’s eyes at the small confinement chamber: nothing on walls, floor or ceiling except one armored lamp in the center of the ceiling dome. No one came in or out; food and drink for the woman arrived through a small lockdoor; wastes went out through another.

She should have fed before she left, but she had decided instead to find food once she was in the City. Now she lay in a human body, consuming the last of her energy, with no possible contact that would offer her sustenance.

Under better circumstances, consuming the host was possible, but not this one; the woman had abundant sentattar-spirit, and that protected her from becoming a meal for Turiosten, at least for the time being.

The large door opened. The woman she inhabited said, “Are you letting me go home now?”

The four guards anesthetized the woman; Turiosten lost access to the senses. When she looked out again, there was another woman with them in a slightly larger chamber, a sealed viewport the only feature. A man’s voice said over a comm system, “Who are you?”

Turiosten‘s woman said, “I’m Paramedic Arnathe.”

“Not you. The voice you told us about. Let it speak.”

Turiosten withdrew. She did not want to be known here. If she hadn’t been so weak, she wouldn’t have said anything in the first place.

“I don’t know how,” the woman answered.

“I see. We’ll put this in simple terms. Either that voice speaks on its own, or I will destroy the body it resides in. I regret this, Arnathe, but the importance of this is too great.”

Arnathe started to cry. “Please, don’t kill me. I can’t make it talk.”

A long silence.

“Derain, you may shoot her now, as I instructed.” A resigned tone. The other woman raised a beam gun and fired. Turiosten was plunged into limbo once again.

She became aware of a mouth-to-mouth contact. Her only chance: she oozed through into the living woman, and looked out through her eyes at the smoking, heat-destroyed body of Paramedic Arnathe.

“I will repeat this process if you do not come forth with your own speech,” the man’s voice said coldly.

The woman Turiosten now inhabited waited patiently. It was no use. Turiosten took control and spoke. “I am Turhnushthenh, or Turiosten in your language. I am of the Zashinhalh. We granted your people the use of the anth stone. If you wish me to live, you must feed me very soon.”

“We will feed you,” the voice said. “We have many questions for you. Do not attempt to use the weapon again; only one cartridge was provided. We will care for you.”

Turiosten said into the woman Derain‘s mind, Who is that man?

After a pause, Derain said softly, “That is Arlen. You won’t harm me, will you?”

Oh, no. You will enjoy my company, once I have eaten. Using the woman’s own ribosomes, Turiosten synthesized a small pulse of cocaine into the woman’s bloodstream. Do you like that?

Derain nodded silently, then subvocalized, He is very dangerous. I am his servant. He has a million ways to build a special hell for you. He did for me.

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


	FORMAL INTRODUCTIONS 1529 4D Turiosten, dying again, looked out through the woman paramedic’s eyes at the small confinement chamber: nothing on walls, floor or ceiling except one armored lamp in the center of the ceiling dome. No one came in or out; food and drink for the woman arrived through a small lockdoor; wastes went out through another. She should have fed before she left, but she had decided instead to find food once she was in the City. Now she lay in a human body, consuming the last of her energy, with no possible contact that would offer her sustenance. Under better circumstances, consuming the host was possible, but not this one; the woman had abundant sentattar-spirit, and that protected her from becoming a meal for Turiosten, at least for the time being. The large door opened. The woman she inhabited said, “Are you letting me go home now?” The four guards anesthetized the woman; Turiosten lost access to the senses. When she looked out again, there was another woman with them in a slightly larger chamber, a sealed viewport the only feature. A man’s voice said over a comm system, “Who are you?” Turiosten‘s woman said, “I’m Paramedic Arnathe.” “Not you. The voice you told us about. Let it speak.” Turiosten withdrew. She did not want to be known here. If she hadn’t been so weak, she wouldn’t have said anything in the first place. “I don’t know how,” the woman answered. “I see. We’ll put this in simple terms. Either that voice speaks on its own, or I will destroy the body it resides in. I regret this, Arnathe, but the importance of this is too great.” Arnathe started to cry. “Please, don’t kill me. I can’t make it talk.” A long silence. “Derain, you may shoot her now, as I instructed.” A resigned tone. The other woman raised a beam gun and fired. Turiosten was plunged into limbo once again. She became aware of a mouth-to-mouth contact. Her only chance: she oozed through into the living woman, and looked out through her eyes at the smoking, heat-destroyed body of Paramedic Arnathe. “I will repeat this process if you do not come forth with your own speech,” the man’s voice said coldly. The woman Turiosten now inhabited waited patiently. It was no use. Turiosten took control and spoke. “I am Turhnushthenh, or Turiosten in your language. I am of the Zashinhalh. We granted your people the use of the anth stone. If you wish me to live, you must feed me very soon.” “We will feed you,” the voice said. “We have many questions for you. Do not attempt to use the weapon again; only one cartridge was provided. We will care for you.” Turiosten said into the woman Derain‘s mind, Who is that man? After a pause, Derain said softly, “That is Arlen. You won’t harm me, will you?” Oh, no. You will enjoy my company, once I have eaten. Using the woman’s own ribosomes, Turiosten synthesized a small pulse of cocaine into the woman’s bloodstream. Do you like that? Derain nodded silently, then subvocalized, He is very dangerous. I am his servant. He has a million ways to build a special hell for you. He did for me.