From: eam3@po.CWRU.Edu (Eric A. Meyer)
Subject: Jonathon's Story
Date: 21 May 91 02:58:02 GMT



   "...when I was still an employee of Patrick over there."  Jonathon nodded
toward the corpse.  "Patrick Tarei, that's T-a-r-e-i, tar-ay.  Smuggler,
fence, broker, anything that made money.  I think he was a slaver for a while
as well.
   "At any rate, I was one of his flunkies, sort of a courier/muscle all in
one.  My partner was Lorelei."  A shadow crossed his face.  "No other name."
   He stared at the table for a moment.  "She and I were hired about the same
time.  She was a veteran of the Third Libyan Conflict; I was a weapons
specialist out of...well, that's irrelevant.  We were assigned to work
as a team.  Patrick did things that way.  All of his 'streetrunners', as he
called us, were paired as a unit.  One provided backup for the other, and so
on.
   "Lorelei and I worked well together.  We never blew a mission and we
gradually became Patrick's top team.  He gave us special assignments, even
entrusted us to a degree.  In the meantime, she and I started to become
close.  As close as we could at the time, anyway."
   The glimmer of a smile made its way onto his face.  "We had a lot of fun,
in those days, both on and off the job."
   There was a slight pause as Spindrift sat, remembering.  Then the shadow
fell upon him, and for a moment there was sorrow as well.
   "As time passed, we eventually fell in love.  'Never was there such a one
as you...'  We were very happy.  She was beautiful, with shoulder-length,
auburn hair, hazel eyes, and a wonderful smile.
   "Patrick, however, seemed less and less friendly, which was something he
had previously been.  Before, he had favored us with commissions, entrusted
us with sensitive information, and so on.  Now, he found a problem with almost
anything we did together, and hinted that team relationships were counter-
productive, even damaging.  We kept things cool after that, but only when
on the job.  At home--we'd moved in together by then--it was the same as it
had been before.
   "Patrick wouldn't leave it alone, however, and he started cutting us away
from him.  Me especially.  It was upsetting, for being in his favor was pretty
enriching, and I'd thought of him as a friend.  He started talking to Lorelei
alone, asking me to leave when he did so.  She wouldn't tell me what was going
on; said if she told he'd find out and that would be bad.  In the meantime, I
was gong crazy trying to be perfect so he'd quit finding reasons to demote me,
withhold pay, and so on.
   "I admit that the idea of killing him crossed my mind a few times back then
I wish I'd done it then."
   Jonathon fell silent, his face lined with turmoil.
   "Inevitably, a mission went wrong.  We were supposed to pick up a package
for Patrick, down dockside.  When we got there, everything seemed all right
until our suppliers got ambushed by a rival outfit just as the deal went down.
I got winged, but not badly.  We offed about seven between us, but the
suppliers bought it early.  The package got destroyed.
   "When we got back, Patrick went nuts.  He ranted on about how we had ruined
a perfect team by becoming lovers, and we were through.  He fired me on the
spot, threatening to kill me if I ever talked or tried to come back.  Lorelei,
he said, would keep her job if she stopped seeing me.  Then he had us thrown
out of his office.
   "Well, obviously we were not happy about this.  We got my arm patched and
then Lorelei said, 'I'm quitting.  To hell with him and his stupid love and
presents.'  I just stared.
   "She explained.  Patrick had been telling her how he loved her and that he
had to have her.  That's what the conversations had been about.  She had put
up with them 'cause he was the boss.  You don't spit on the paycheck.  She
said he hadn't put any moves on her, but she was afraid he would once I was
gone.  So she said, you stay here and rest, I'm gonna go tell him what I think
of him.  I would have stopped her except she nailed me with neomorphine a
second later, which knocked me out cold.
   "When I came to, probably six hours later, I was strapped to a chair.  I
opened my eyes...and there was Lorelei."
   He fell silent, not seeing anything except the past.  His face darkened,
pain twisting his features.
   "And there was Patrick.  On top of her.  She was tied down, spreadeagled,
and he was raping her.  His goons were hanging around, waiting their turn."
    "When they got it, he told me it had been going on for three hours.  He
screamed about how I got in his way, how I took her away from him, and he
was taking her back.  Then he screamed at her.  Then at both of us, I guess
for daring to love.  All the while, the muscle was taking turns, five of
them."
   Spindrift's words came low and halting.
   "He kept ranting even when he took another turn.  And another.  He started
slicing her with a knife, pricking her with needles, all kinds of torture.
She was already bleeding heavily from repeated rape, and pretty soon most of
her body was smeared with her own blood."
   His eyes shone brightly, and his cheeks were dead white.  "She never
screamed.  Not once.  She never begged nor wept.  Never.  Not Lorelei.
When he sliced her jugular, she spent her next to last second of life
spitting on him.  She used the last second to shout that she loved me.
   "Predictably, Patrick flipped at this.  He promised me that whatever mercy
he might have shown me before was out.  I was going to be killed, very slowly
and painfully.  But first, he rigged me with 'trodes and let the juice flow
a while.  Not that it mattered.  Watching Lori die was pain enough to make
anything else miniscule."
   Spindrift drew a breath, then gulped the last of the water.  "Just before
he had the goons drag me off, I looked at him and said, 'I'll be back for you,
Patrick.  You're half a corpse right now.'  He just laughed in my face and
told the goons to give me an acid bath.  They dragged me off, presumably to
an acid tank or something.
   "I say presumably because I killed two of the goons and left the third with
three broken limbs before we got there.  I ran off and plotted Patrick's
assassination.
   "Unfortunately, I blew it.  I tried to get him on the the street, but he
had more muscle that I'd thought he would.  They nailed me seven times, three
in the chest.  I was lying on the street, slowly slipping away, and Patrick
laughed as he stood over me and said, 'Pathetic.  If you're te kind of man
Lorelei would pick, I guess I'm glad she never picked me,' and then he walked
away to let me bleed to death in the street."
   Jonathon's eyes were very cold now, burning with memories.  "I dragged
myself using the one arm that hadn't been hit to a docshop over seven blocks
away and got patched.  I told him to take the damaged limbs off, since I
wouldn't be needing them and it would keep costs down.  I borrowed some
prosthetic legs and servoed down to the nearest high-end cybershop.
   "That's where I got this."  He removed the glove on his left hand.
The hand gleamed dully in the light.  "And my legs, which are pretty damn
fast and strong, now.  Not to mention a few other implants."
   He looked at Tetsuro.  "Thank you for the endorphin injection, by the
way.  They helped."
   Tetsuro regarded him with amusement.  "There was no injection, and you're
welcome."
   Spindrift raised an eyebrow, then frowned.  "No injection?"
   Tetsuro shook his head slowly.
   There was a pause.  "I can see that I'm going to have to upgrade my
BioAnalyzer," Jonathon finally said.
   Tetsuro smiled.
   "Well, I started a little more cautiously this time.  I figured that there
was a time and place where Patrick would drop his guard.  And there was.  It
was here and now."
   Jonathon sighed deeply and fell silent for a minute.  No-one else spoke.
   "Well, that's the story, in short form.  There are only two things."
   "Such as?" inquired Tetsuro.
   "First:  whatever you do, don't call me John.  I'll call you Hebi-chan if
you like, but never, ever call me 'John'.  That's what Patrick used to call
me."
   "Second?"
   "Could I have a mop, please?  I'd prefer to get the blood clear before it
stains the floor."

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      (c) 1991 AutoScribe Publications  |  Eric Meyer, author
------------------------------------------------------------------------
--
"Unstable condition--a symptom of life       | Eric A. Meyer (eam3@po.CWRU.edu)
 In mental and environmental change          |  President, Beta Nu Chapter of
 Atmospheric disturbance--the feverish flux  |      Theta Chi Fraternity
 Of human interface and interchange-"  -N.P. |  "He's a rebel and a runner..."