“Don’t worry,” he responded with a wink. “I’m not going to lose you.” No, sir. This trip was beginning to have real possibilities.
Matson took the point, lit a cigar, and stared out into the void.
“Now it begins,” he muttered to himself.
8
FLUXWAR
When New Eden’s master program was loosed, most people remained where and as they were, but there were some, particularly among the older ones who had been in Flux when it became Anchor and had been trapped into the program, who took the opportunity to flee. Some went far, but Liberty had been formed out of an alliance of those who had remained close-by. It was both curious and unpleasant at one and the same time.
The countryside was nice; the dry plains of New Eden just to the south were at the mercy of conventional wind and weather; here, though, all was green and lush, with rich-looking soil and thick clumps of trees. There were, however, well-concealed fortifications in those trees and in the river valley ready to pounce on an invader and hold them until wizard’s Flux could polish them off.
Liberty had been founded by refugees from its big neighbor to the south, and it remained totally paranoid that New Eden would someday come to reclaim them. Because of this, a paramilitary state was the rule in Liberty; it was a land where literally everyone was in the military, male and female, young and old. The combined effort of eight powerful wizards working together, all of whom had also been trapped in the New Eden program, it was almost as large as two Anchors. The mega-Fluxlands, however, had their price other than a shared vision by the Fluxlords: they were too large for any mind to cover. In the small ones, even ones the size of Freehold, the Fluxlords knew when you entered and knew what was going on at all times, but here it was almost like Anchor—almost.
Now, with all attention focused to the northwest and the war with a similar mega-Fluxland, things weren’t always dependable in the south. You would be riding toward hills all day, but they would occasionally shimmer and change shape, or become less distinct. Roads and forests were equally undependable as the mind maintaining the area was preoccupied with other things. All the big Fluxlands were inherently unstable because they were compromises, but this had gotten a lot worse. It took a wizard, who could sense the throbbing grid beneath, to stay oriented.
It was three days before Spirit returned, somewhat apologetically, to tell them that the raiders had crossed once again into Flux and had turned sharply north. She had spent some time finding them, because the raiders had moved slower than Matson anticipated and they had overshot the mark. They laid out an angular course to catch up, although it meant going overland.
“I caught a look at them as a bird over New Eden,” she told Matson. “Ugly bunch of women, I must say.”
“How many?” he asked her.
“I’d say about a hundred, give or take five or ten.” She described the organization she’d seen, and it became clear that basically good military sense had been used in planning it: five companies of roughly twenty each, with three in scouting and combat roles, one handling support and also the younger ones, and one apparently just to serve the leadership and guard the projector.
“I hadn’t expected the whole bunch of children,” she admitted. “All girls, most of them pretty normal looking for any group that size. They all pitch in to help with support, but there are some really young ones that make up almost a nursery. They move with five wagons, three with mule teams, and the rest on horseback. I guess Ayesha and Suzl move in one of the wagons; I didn’t catch sight of either of them, although I saw the projector in one. Just a glimpse. It’s uglier than they are.”
Matson nodded. “You, Sondra, and Dell will have to alternate reconnaissance near them. Don’t get close! If you can see ’em, that’s enough. Remember what happened to Morgaine. I can afford her, but not two or three of her, and I’ve had to face Sondra like that before.”
Spirit was silent a moment, then asked, “How’s she been doing?” She knew why Matson had sent her and not one of the others out on this duty, and she’d accepted it. Morgaine needed a little time to find herself.
“Pretty good. She hasn’t discriminated between the two men, and she’s got both of them, even Verdugo, eating out of her hand and fetching and carrying. Her body cycle seems to be to wake up, eat and drink a little something, then she’s O.K. for several hours. Finally it builds, she has to have it, gets it, comes back, eats heavily, then dozes. As long as she gives the body what it needs, she’s in perfect control. I hate to tell you this, but I think she’s enjoying it.”
“Yeah. You really think I blew it with her, don’t you?”
“Daughter, there’s a tendency of mothers to require that they have a ton or two of guilt inside no matter what. You did your best and that’s all anybody can ask. Now let her be what she can.”
For Major Verdugo, Morgaine was like nothing he had ever dreamed of. In New Eden, a tall woman was a head or more shorter than Morgaine, and even the most voluptuous of them didn’t look and move like she did, nor make love like she did. What bothered him was that Morgaine was no servile Fluxgirl, no “yes, sir” type— she was, in fact, not deferential at all, nor was she uneducated. As much as he wanted her, she frightened him as almost nothing in his life had. She was a Fluxgirl in charge, and it was a scary combination. She had an incredible body, incredible looks, and also brains, will, and self-confidence. Spirit and Sondra were different; they were wizards in their element, which was not his element, and he respected that, particularly with their very mean looking father around. Morgaine was something else. She was the stuff of all his sexual fantasies, but she was also equally the stuff of New Eden nightmares.
He couldn’t help but think of a New Eden filled with Morgaines, one in which the girls, like queens on thrones, reclined on silk beds while male drones waited on them and carried out their orders. In that scenario, it was the men who became mere objects, slaves to superior creatures who held the keys to extreme pleasure and which men would need more than they would need men. He had never felt inferior before; he never thought it was possible for him to feel so. Relative power he understood, but this was something else. One Morgaine he could accept, and he was out to destroy the only other one, but he could see in her the stuff of Ayesha’s dreams and every nightmare he could imagine. God had placed man on top because women had the beauty and the charms and all the physical things the human body could wish. Without being the ruler, a man was no more than muscles and a prick. Men needed to be in charge because, if they weren’t, they’d be—inferior. Maybe even irrelevant.
If anything, Morgaine made him more resolved to push for an ultimate, and permanent, New Eden victory. Then they could make a number of Morgaines, but with the correct mental attitudes and attributes. One day he would put Morgaine in a Flux chamber, remove her memories and her power, and rebuild her inside as God would intend. A Morgaine for whom he would be the center of her world and the whole reason for her existence.
For Suzl it had been a strange time, but not really a bad time. Her mental state was perhaps not the best, but it was her own and not something imposed upon her, of that she was certain. She still retained her powers and her skills, and could check and control such things.
The moment she had accepted Ayesha’s spell, she knew somehow that it was right, that there was some sort of compensating force in life that weighed and adjusted you. The more people whose lives your actions had affected, the more compensation, or justice, was applied.
She accepted the blindness as unintentional, and had even examined as much of the spell as she could make out to confirm that fact. Clearly there was something in the way the oral sexual mechanism was constructed that had eliminated something necessary for sight. Her world was total darkness, compounded by the sensual but not very practical body she now had. Still, it was essentially a body that she herself had designed, one intended to give pure pleasure but involving compromises, and it worked perfectly.
She hardly noticed the organ in her mouth anymore, but while it was a source of great pleasure it also made speaking a garbled mess, like trying to talk with your tongue rolled up. It was, in fact, a primary organ which could be used to impregnate the other women, while the lower one was specifically tailored to Ayesha’s internal anatomy. Still, it was the lack of being able to effectively communicate that bothered her. She could not talk, and Ayesha could not read. Clearly, other than the sensual aspects of it, this was another factor in its being there at all. Ayesha could not be certain if Suzl would dominate, but it was difficult to give orders under such circumstances.
Sitting in and working on the projector, however, gave her an opportunity to try other means. She loved the thing, for within it she could see the grid with her mind and make out the electrical shapes of what was around her. The lorry had not proved reliable, and now the projector was transported by wagon and unloaded when needed or when they camped. Direct contact with the ground was essential, although she had begun to wonder if it wasn’t an unobstructed path rather than physical contact that was required. The only way to find out was to try and lift it.
There were always several of the daughters around with arms ready when she was in the chair, and it amused her rather than disturbed her that they didn’t trust her. Even though many of them could use it, it would have been a simple matter for her to have negated anything they might do with the speed of thought. Even without the machine, her power was more than equal to the entire rest of the group. She decided, however, to let them have their little reassurances. Better to earn their trust than demand it.
The third day back in Flux she decided to try and lift it. There was no such thing as a true antigravity spell, but she suspected that it could be supported with known forces. Opposite magnetic polarities managed to lift it almost a meter, but there was no way to get forward motion with it. If they were ever to do anything with it, they would have to find a way to keep it directly on all the time. As it was, while they were in motion three or four strong wizards combined might well break the shield.
She did not solve the forward motion problem, but by hitching horses to it and progressively magnetizing the grid squares it became surprisingly easy to both move and keep powered up. The skill was in stopping it, which involved progressive demagnetization and was very tricky. No one was sure how fragile it might be, and nobody could send out for spare parts.
The family had a fair number of high-technology devices, and she turned next to them. Her sight was now in the realm of forces, but it was still more than adequate when she had the projector. Among the things they had were small hand-held communicators which worked at some distance if only on line of sight. By vibrating its speaker elements, she was able to fashion some sort of voice, although not a very natural sounding one. It was tinny and mechanical and lacked much resonance or emotion, but it was something. Once she learned how to do it, and had practiced with it, it would have been no trouble keeping one with her, but she decided to use it only when she had real need of something or was on the projector. Ayesha did not like it.
Still, it allowed some communication with her head keeper, Ayesha’s oldest and favorite daughter, Gillian, whom they had all thought of as Baldy. Gillian did not trust Suzl, but she was nonetheless fascinated by her.
“You now have a voice. What will you do with it?”
Suzl sent a laugh but it sounded horrid on the speaker. “Talk to you. Learn a little, perhaps teach a little.”
“You have accepted your—situation—amazingly well,” Gillian noted, which of course was partial grounds for her suspicions.
“I accept the fact that it is us or them. I have been a part of them and I prefer us. I was breaking apart back there. Now I am whole again.”
“You are blind and dumb, and a captive of your body.”
“I am not dumb, for we are speaking, are we not? As for being blind—it is untrue. From here I can see the whole grid if I wish. I have a different vision, but in some ways a grander one. As for this body, it is designed for extreme pleasure. I have no need of other attributes, and I can feel and experience this body far more than you do yours. I only wish that somehow I could also experience penetration as a woman. Ayesha fears that if I give this male attribute to anyone else it will somehow threaten her. I am patient. Eventually, it will come.”
“I am still puzzled, I admit,” Gillian noted. “You say you will transform the whole of World, yet this would mean your own past family and friends as well. Do you think, when the time comes, you will be able to do it?”
“It will not depend on me alone, I hope. However, yes. It is us or them, as I said. They offer slavery to my daughters and hardship to my sons. World has always been dominated by and torn apart by sexual roles. I see that now. There will be sex, of course, but no sexes. The form will be female, the pleasure of each available to all, and the responsibility, too. The race will be free to turn together to other things, nicer things. I think it is a wonderful thing, and I have an extreme version of that form now.”
“It doesn’t bother you that the men will turn this way?”
“It is about time lately that the men turned into something.”
“Could you do it now, with us?”
“I could—but we are aiming at permanency. No one will be able to change it. Flux will still have its spells and its magic, but not to change people into other forms. For the moment, you must retain that ability. Now, will you answer me a few things?”
“Yes. If I can.”