* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

                      SEX, LIES, AND NECROMANCY

                                  by

                    Daniel Parsons and Brandi Weed

                  The Insect serves some useful end,
                  But what it is, I've never kenned.
                  I do not like the ones that buzz,
                  I do not know a soul who does.
                  And of those that crawl and creep,
                  the more they die, the less I weep.
                  But such is ego, low or high;
                  They'd rather be themselves than I.
                                      -- Ogden Nash

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


"Hey," Ardrin eloquently greeted No. 220.  They were in the woods on
the inland side of the Village.  220'd asked him to meet him there.
     "You're here.  We're trimming trees today."
     "Great."
     "Can you climb?"
     "Yeah, I guess.  We're not doing it from the ground?"
     "No poles, and no ladders."
     "What, are they politically insensitive?"
     "That would be telling," No. 220 grumbled. "By order of the
Village Council, tree-trimmings to be done by climbing up, and cutting
through the branches up there.  Here's gloves, a saw and your braces."
     The "braces" were a long nylon strap with two pads along it.  One
went around the trunk of the tree, and the other under Ardrin.  By
leaning back, sitting on the strap with your feet against the trunk of
the tree, you'd hang off the trunk and have both hands free.
     "Take yourself up this one, cut through all the branches in that
big bunch on this side.  And any dead ones you find."  Then No. 220
handed him a thing that looked like a gun with a bugle instead of a
barrel.  "Put this on your belt, you might need it."
     Ardrin looked at it.  The handle and trigger were easy enough to
figure out, but the bell-like end was weird.  There was no hole inside
for anything like a bullet to come out. "What is it?"
     "Hypersonics.  Some big bugs in this part of the world.  This'll
take care of 'em quick."
     "Uh... right." After clipping the sonic thing on his belt, Ardrin
got the strap around the tree, secured it under his butt, and started
hitching his way up the trunk.
     The climbing got easier after he got high enough for branches,
and Ardrin started sawing away at the base of the big tangle.  It was
a small saw, as big saws were probably considered too dangerous in the
hands of prisoners, to it took damn near forever.  Long enough to
realize, before he sawed all the way through, that he was underneath
it.  After shifting around, he got through the branch, but it didn't
fall anyway; all the other branches in the bunch held it up still.
     Ardrin stopped for a minute to look around the tangle, and figure
out where to cut next.  It was a big bunch, and was making the tree
lean over.  They probably wanted it cut off because of that.  Inside,
he could see a few things moving around.
     After getting the sonic thing off his belt, Ardrin moved some
branches aside to get a better look.  And, to his great surprise,
found himself looking in the eye of a praying mantis that must have
been six inches long.  It was starting right back at him too, both its
arms up and ready.  He hit it with the sonic; there wasn't much noise,
but the bug convulsed and shriveled up in less than a second, as well
as a lot more bugs living in there that he hadn't noticed.  "Cool,"
Ardrin thought, and decided to just cut the whole bunch of branches
off and let 'em fall.
     It took about an hour.  Finally, the whole thing broke loose, and
went crashing down to the forest floor.  Ardrin nursed his hand and
looked around for any dead branches.
     There were a few, further up the tree.  After hitching his way
up, Ardrin started cutting with his left hand.  It was a bitch, but
the dead wood was pretty easy to cut.  He'd gotten two branches off,
and was halfway through a third when he felt something, like lots of
bees stinging his legs.
     Ardrin looked down, and his legs were covered with huge red ants,
biting and stinging and crawling up him!  They were crawling out of
the holes he'd left when he cut the other two branches off.  Swearing,
he dropped the saw and started trying to beat them off, grabbing for
the sonic blaster with his other hand.
     Every time they stung him, it felt like part of his leg lit on
fire.  They were all over now, so Ardrin just waved the blaster all
over the tree and all over him, watching them twitch and trying to
brush them off after they did.  His legs felt funny after he'd hit
them with the blaster a few times, but he hardly noticed it.
     But then, they stopped twitching when he aimed the blaster at
them.  The batteries must be dead.  They were mostly gone, so he
hitched his way down the tree as fast as he could, screaming for 220
to please, sir, get your ass over here, finally falling out of the
brace when he'd gotten close enough to the ground.
     No. 220 helped him kill what was left of them, then put him in
the back of the car and drove him over to the hospital.  His legs felt
swollen and tingly and weird, and worse than that time he'd tried to
kill a yellowjacket's nest on his grandma's house.
     No. 220 grinned over his shoulder at him. "What do ya think of
the locals?"
     "Real bastards, sir."
     "They're survivors.  Somebody threatens their home, don't care
who it is, all out war.  Life in the jungle."
     "Yeah, sir.  What does that sonic thing do when you hit yourself
with it?"
     "Dunno, but it hurts.  Stay in the hospital a few days, you'll be
all right."
     Ardrin nursed his legs, which were beginning to feel like jello
with jalapenos mixed in. "Sure hope so."

                             *     *     *

Janie and Angel walked into the gym, and headed up to the second
floor, where the sparring mats were.  There were a few people there
already, including No. 95, the big Spaniard Janie had learned Kosho
from.  He waved, then returned his attention to the woman trying to
kick his head in.
     "Hullo, 95!" Janie called.
     "You know him?"
     "Yeah, he's the one who taught me Kosho."
     "Oh, yes.  That's a very strange game.  My goodness, he certainly
is a big fellow, isn't he?"
     "Uh, yeah, especially up close.  That woman he's sparring with
isn't exactly small either."
     She certainly wasn't.  The woman in question was nearly Janie's
height, but out-bulked her by far, mostly in muscle.  Angel sniffed.
"Yes, rather.  I do wonder what she's done to herself to look like
that."
     "Probably worked out a lot.  Here, help me stretch?"
     "Of course." Janie put her leg in Angel's hands, and Angel pushed
up to stretch the hamstring.  Her knee nearly touched her forehead; a
bit stiff, for Janie.  "But what I wonder why any woman would want to
look that way.  I've seen men with fewer muscles who were quite
rugged."
     "'Cause she wanted to, that's all.  I mean, maybe she's just
doing it to be an individual."
     Angel nodded. "That I can understand, though it seems there would
be more productive ways, or at least aesthetically pleasing, to go
about it."
     Janie grinned. "All the productive ways have been declared
Disharmonious by the Village Council."
     "Oh, yes, I'd forgotten.  You see her number?"
     "Uh... 94, I think."
     "Against No. 95?  What a curious coincidence.  Or do you think
they might be compatriots, like us?"
     "I don't know.  We'll have to ask them, won't we?"
     "Certainly.  But first, let's get some sparring in so they don't
think we're watching them."
     "Righty-O."
     They were both a bit out of practice, Janie especially.  Angel
might have been doing katas in her room late at night, judging from
the way she threw Janie around.  After a bit, they saw they had a
small audience, including Nos. 94 and 95.
     After a particularly embarrassing fall, Janie slowly stood up,
rubbing her leg. "Ah... no more for me.  I guess I'm more out of shape
than I thought."
     "Nonsense, Janie.  You did quite well.  That axe kick of yours
was particularly well executed."
     "Well, yeah, I'm pretty good at that one.  It mostly works
because I'm tall and I can get my leg up real high."
     "Yes, very high.  Well, do you wish to go home now?"
     "Hey," No. 94 said.  The compatriots theory went straight out the
window, she spoke with an English accent.  "You're not bad.  Want to
go against me, then?"
     A bit rude, perhaps, and more than a little proud of herself
judging by the way she was standing.  But Angel accepted the offer,
with a proper bow.  No. 94 stepped onto the mat and went into an
offensive stance without any bow at all, then leaped, hard and fast,
with a loud kiai.
     Janie stood on the sidelines, watching them kick each other
around, until someone tapped her on the shoulder. "Excuse me," a small
man next to her said, "are you her friend?"
     "Who, you mean... No. 11?  Yeah." His badge said No. 65. "Yeah, I
know her."
     "Oh, um, great!" he said, then looked around like he was doing
something he shouldn't. "Um, can we go spar together over here?"
     "Uh... sure.  No problem."
     No. 65 seemed to have studied some Kung Fu, but he wasn't very
good at it.  He did have a talent for sneaking in under your guard,
though, probably because he was short.  Finally, after she'd knocked
him down twice, he spoke up. "I... was wondering, you see, if you
could introduce us."
     "What, introduce you to her?" Janie helped him back up.
     "Uh, yeah."  A little smile.  "I kind of want to meet her."
     "What, Angel?!" Janie asked incredulously.
     Her blurted retort seemed to take all the wind out of his sails,
so to speak.  Quickly realizing she'd done something stupid, Janie
lowered her voice and asked, "Can't you just ask her by yourself?"
     "I, uh, I would like to, but I'm scared I'd say the wrong thing,
or something."
     "Oh." This was a little strange; who knows what this kid saw in
Angel.  No, not a kid; he wasn't any younger than Janie, and the only
'kids' in the Village were born here.  "Well, maybe you can ask her to
spar after 94's done with her."
     "I'm not that good..."
     "So just say you want to try, and talk with her afterwards."
     "But what do I say?"
     This was beginning to be a little nerve-wracking. "Look, I'm
sorry, but I'm not a match-maker.  I don't know what to say to No. 11
sometimes, she's not... you'll have to try something.  Just talk to
her."
     Angel, quite unaware of these dealings, was struggling to keep
No. 94 from kicking her head in.  She was very quick for all her
muscle, even more so because she kept forgetting to pull her punches.
Angel could do an occasional hit or throw, but she was just a little
too quick for Angel to properly teach her a lesson.  After a while, it
became clear that they were both willing to break it off, and did.
     "Not bad, love." No. 94 said. "You studied Hapkido, didn't you?"
     Angel smiled, though no more than politeness demanded. "Yes,
father insisted.  He always said you never know what sorts of people
you might meet, and should be prepared."
     "Here, you get the broom out of your tailpipe, or I'll have you
declared disharmonious.  I've got friends in high places, you know."
     "Do you."
     "Yeah, it so happens I do.  So have a little respect."
     "Of course I shall.  Will you be running to see your friends,
then?"
     There might have been a rather more serious fight then; No. 94
didn't seem to take the suggestion well.  But No. 65 chose that moment
to step in, and ask, "No. 11?  I greatly admired your fighting so
much, could I have a chance to spar with you too?"
     "Of course you may!" Angel smiled. "Do excuse me, 94.  Let's chat
again some other time."  She and No. 65 squared off on the mat, and
she went easy on him until 94 left.  And after, too; this young man
seemed like a nice chap, and it really wouldn't have been worthwhile
to knock him about, even though she certainly could have.

                             *     *     *

     Late at night, a helicopter landed at the landing pad.  Everyone
was supposed to be asleep, but they couldn't get out of their rooms
anyway, so no one could have identified the man on a gurney they took
off the helicopter.  The guards wheeled him into the Green Dome, not
the hospital.


Daniel Parsons                                             Brandi Weed
                   Questions or comments to parsons@indigo.ucdavis.edu
        Available for ftp from ftp.cs.pdx.edu, in /pub/frp/stories/SLN