From his spot on the sofa—unctuous beige with clots of stuffing boiling through rips—Jonathan eyed his brother. Marcus sat in his chair, his limbs streaked with sweat in the overheated room, his powerful chest muscles struggling under gravity. Marcus had grumbled, wondering why Jonathan didn’t want to talk via communications link. Jonathan had instead insisted that Marcus come planet-side to enjoy the fruits of their labors.
“Fruits?” Marcus sucked air. “Kurita’s still in power and Katana’s a fraccing warlord!” He sucked in another breath. “You took care of everyone else. But Katana? No, she gets to live.”
“She lives because that pleases me.” Jonathan gave a negligent yawn and stretched. His spanking new, emerald-green armor creaked at its joints. A good thing Marcus was so well off. Even better that he’d become such a wizard with computers: a hundred different accounts under as many aliases, and brimming with lovely cash. He toyed with his new helmet, admiring his reflection. “Alive, she suits our needs.”
It pleased him when Marcus’ skin turned dark as a beet. “Our needs?” he wheezed. “Aren’t we really talking about your needs?
“No,” he lied. (It came so naturally.) “Marcus, the best way to make someone suffer is to take away everything they hold dear, everything they care about—but a little at a time. You hold out hope that things will get better, and then they don’t. We know what that’s like, don’t we, Brother? Our father divorced our mother, but we hung on to him, became his little shadows.” An image in his mind’s eye: of the day he was made, finally, a Son of the Dragon after years of training—and all because his father would not call him son. “And then Father simply disappeared, leaving us on our own. So I ask you. Is killing Katana punishment? She can only die once. But take away what and who she cares for, and she’ll wish she was dead. That’s revenge—slow and sweet.”
“Only sweet for you.” Marcus made a horsey sound. “You like killing. But that’s not even it. You actually like the little bitch. In fact”—he eyed his brother shrewdly—“I think you’re a little in love with her.” When he saw his brother’s expression, he gave a nasty laugh. “That’s it, isn’t it? Great, this is just perfect. I wonder if dear Katana will mind bondage, or if she’ll prefer some of your more creative antics in the boudoir?”
For the first time in his life, Jonathan was stunned to silence—and what was more: Marcus had made him angry. How had he done that? I’m in control; I’m always in control …
“I… admire her,” he said, choosing his words with care. “I’m like any hunter, Marcus. I appreciate the wiliness of the fox even as I run it down.”
“But in your own good time.” Marcus laughed again, but silently, like a dog. “You think I don’t see what’s going on? Look at you: safely ensconced in Katana’s camp, Crawford and little Emi falling all over you with gratitude; and you’ve got Bhatia by the balls. Being so beloved and in so many camps is handy, isn’t it? Except that’s not even it. This isn’t about vengeance for you anymore.”
“Indeed?” Jonathan kept his voice light. “Then what is it, Brother?”
“Katana Tormark. That’s all. You need Katana alive.”
“Do I,” said Jonathan, his tone dry but when he toyed with his visor, his fingers shook. “My, Marcus, all this armchair psychoanalysis… just why would I need Katana alive?”
“Because you love her. The killing is almost beside the point now. Now, every time a woman begs for her life, you hear Katana’s voice. Every time you fantasize about a woman, it’s Katana you see, Katana’s body under your hands. She’s gotten under your skin. Whatever plans we made together are gone—because you want her. You love killing; you love her suffering; and you love her. But you’ve got a problem. Eventually…” And now Marcus leaned forward and said with a confidential air, “You’ll have to kill her, and do you know why? Because wanting her means she has the power, not you. So Katana will have to die—or you will. Because you are Death, Jonathan. And everyone you touch will die with you.”
Later, Jonathan would remember everything that came next: astonishment, then anger and mortification and then—relief. Yes, Katana was his; they were fated for one another; all the taboos had dropped away, and he would have her and he would possess her and he would destroy her: an inch at a time, for a very long, long time to come.
And then he felt it, that magical, sensual—click.
Jonathan gave a breathy laugh. “You’ve become quite the philosopher.” His new armor softly squealed as he stood, squared the helmet upon his head, felt it snick into place, heard the seals catch. The door lay just beyond Marcus, and he started for it now. “And you’re dead right about one thing, you know.”
Marcus tracked him, twisting round to keep Jonathan in view as his brother moved for the door. “And that is…?”
“Why, that I love killing,” said Jonathan, easily. “Watch.” His right hand flashed for the back of Marcus’ head, his left shot for the angle of Marcus’ jaw, and then he pushed right, pulled left, hard and fast. There was a sharp pop and then a crunch like a step on gravel. Sighing, Marcus folded at the waist, then slumped until his head touched his knees. His head slewed right, twisted. His eyes were still open. He didn’t blink.
Every nerve tingling, blood roaring through his veins, Jonathan stared at Marcus and said, “Yes, indeed, Brother.” Filtered through speakers, his voice hissed with a curious, susurrant hum, and that suited him because Jonathan now knew that he was separate, apart—and not altogether human. “I do believe you’re on to something.”
About the Author
Ilsa J. Bick is a writer as well as a recovering child and forensic psychiatrist. She is the author of prize–winning stories, such as “A Ribbon for Rosie,” Star Trek: Strange New Worlds II; “Shadows, in the Dark,” Strange New Worlds IV; and “The Quality of Wetness,” Writers of the Future, Vol. XVI. She’s written for BattleCorps.com , devoted to the Classic BattleTech universe, including “Memories of Fire and Ice at the Edge of the World” and “Surkai.” Her novella, “Break-Away” was the first installment of the Proliferation Anthology. Other work has appeared in SCIFICTION, Challenging Destiny, Talebones, Beyond the Last Star, and Star Trek: New Frontier: No Limits, among many others. Her first published novel, Star Trek: The Lost Era: Well of Souls, cracked the 2003 Barnes and Noble Bestseller List.
Forthcoming are the Star Trek: Starfleet Corps of Engineers novellas “Lost Time” and “Wounds, Part One” and “Wounds, Part Two.” Also forthcoming is “Bottomless,” in the Star Trek: Voyager anniversary anthology Distant Shores. She’s currently working on several mysteries, including one set in late Victorian England, and slated for a novel set in the Star Trek: DS9 universe featuring Ro Laren.
When she isn’t working—like, yeah, when is that—she lives in (mostly frigid) Wisconsin with her husband, two children, three cats and other assorted vermin. Sometimes she even cooks for them.