Free Surfacing by Walter Jon Williams Page B

said.
    “He’s using you to hide behind. He was here in person, the son of a bitch.” He took her hands in his own and kissed her. Purest desire flamed through him. He wanted to commit an act of defiance, make a statement of the nature of things. He put his arms around her and kissed her nape. She smelled faintly of pine, and there were needles in her hair. Telamon had put her on Earth, then, in a forest somewhere.
    She strained against his tight embrace. “I don’t know if this is a good idea,” she said.
    “I want to send a message to Telamon,” Anthony said.
    They made love under the sun, lying on the deck in Anthony’s cockpit. Clear as a bell, Anthony heard Dweller sounds rumbling up the boat. Somewhere in the boat a metal mounting bracket rang to the subsonics. Philana clutched at him. There was desperation in her look, a search for affirmation, despair at finding none. The teak punished Anthony’s palms. He wondered if Telamon had ever possessed her thus, took over her mind so that he could fuck her in his own body, commit incest with himself. He found the idea exciting.
    His orgasm poured out, stunning him with its intensity. He kissed the moist juncture of Philana’s neck and shoulder, and rose on his hands to stare down into Telamon’s brittle grin and cold, knowing eyes.
    “Message received, Anthony.” Philana’s throat convulsed in laughter. “You’re taking possession. Showing everyone who’s boss.”
    Horror galvanized Anthony. He jumped to his feet and backed away, heart pounding. He took a deep breath and mastered himself, strove for words of denial and could not find them. “You’re sad, Telamon,” he said.
    Telamon threw Philana’s arms over her head, parted her legs. “Let’s do it again, Anthony.” Taunting. “You’re so masterful.”
    Anthony turned away. “Piss off, Telamon, you sick fuck.” Bile rose in his throat.
    “What happened?” Anthony knew Philana was back. He turned and saw her face crumple. “We were making love!” she wailed.
    “A cheap trick. He’s getting desperate.” He squatted by her and tried to take her in his arms. She turned away from him.
    “Let me alone for a while,” she said. Bright tears filled her eyes.
    Misplaced adrenaline ran charges through Anthony’s body— no one to fight, no place to run. He picked up his clothes and went below to the main cabin. He drew on his clothing and sat on one of the berths, hands helpless on the seat beside him. He wanted to get blind drunk.
    Half an hour later Philana entered the cabin. She’d braided her hair, drawn it back so tight from her temples it must have been painful. Her movements were slow, as if suddenly she’d lost her sea legs. She sat down at the little kitchen table, pushed away her half-eaten lunch.
    “We can’t win,” she said.
    “There’s got to be some way,” Anthony said tonelessly. He was clean out of ideas.
    Philana looked at Anthony from reddened eyes. “We can give him what he wants,” she said.
    “No.”
    Her voice turned to a shout. “It’s not you he does this to! It’s not you who winks out of existence in the middle of doing laundry or making love, and wakes up somewhere else.“ Her knuckles were white as they gripped the table edge. ”I don’t know how long I can take this.“
    “All your life,” said Anthony, “if you give him what he wants.”
    “At least then he wouldn’t use it as a weapon! ” Her voice was a shout. She turned away.
    Anthony looked at her, wondered if he should go to her. He decided not to. He was out of comfort for the present.
    “You see,” Philana said, her head still turned away, “why I don’t want to live forever.”
    “Don’t let him beat you.”
    “It’s not that. I’m afraid…” Her voice trembled. “I’m afraid that if I got old I’d become him. The Kyklopes are the oldest living things ever discovered. And a lot of the oldest immortals are a lot like them. Getting crazier, getting…” She shook her head.