Free Total Recall by Piers Anthony Page A

stomach. The blow was powerful rather than fast, and she was light. He had pulled his punch somewhat, still loath to really hurt her. Also, he had been shaken by her violent attack on him, and for the moment weakened. The effect of the drug had not yet worn off entirely, which made it worse. Even so, the punch launched her all the way to the kitchen.
    She kept her feet, by no means downed. She was in better condition as a combatant than he had ever suspected. In fact, it seemed that there was a whole lot about her that he hadn’t known. But how could she be in on this conspiracy to kill him? She wasn’t even interested in Mars!
    He staggered toward her, knowing that he had to put her down and question her. It had never occurred to him that she would know anything about this astonishing situation, but now that he knew she did, he had to learn whatever she knew.
    Lori grabbed a carving knife from the holder on the wall. Now she stalked him, moving with more confidence than he did. He retreated, realizing that he was up against no amateur.
    He looked around for her gun and spied it on the floor across the room. He started toward it, but she intercepted him, deftly slicing his reaching arm. He tried to dodge aside and make for the gun again, but she whipped the knife across his chest, opening a thin gash. She kept him at bay, tagging him whenever he focused on the gun instead of on her, but wasn’t able to make a lethal score on him. He was becoming a mass of shallow wounds and dripping blood.
    He feinted toward the gun once more, with his left hand. She stabbed at the arm, inflicting another injury—but was caught by his right fist. It was a solid blow to her jaw.
    Lori fell back, stunned. Quaid quickly picked up the gun and aimed it at her. “Talk!”
    She remained stubbornly silent. He shoved the gun barrel in her ear. He meant business, and it showed. The hard alternate personality had taken over again. “Why is my own wife trying to kill me?”
    “I’m not your wife,” she said.
    He cocked the pistol. Lori panicked.
    “I swear to God! I never saw you before six weeks ago! Our marriage is just a memory implant— aggghh! ” Quaid grabbed a handful of hair and yanked her head back. How could she claim that eight years of marriage hadn’t existed? He remembered!
    He remembered the way she had sauntered across the street that first day. He remembered their wedding, the startling contrast between his father’s humble finery and her father’s stylish Martian frog pelt tux. He remembered their wedding trip as vividly as though it had happened yesterday; the ride on the transcon zaptrain, the suite in the expensive hotel where they had been catered to by a veritable fleet of service droids. It had been the first time he’d slept on a gelbed, the first time he’d tasted Venusian champagne. They’d sipped it from crystal flutes grown in zero-g on one of the space stations. He could still see the strange shape of the crystal, feel it in his hand, taste the sparkling blue wine.
    He thought back to the first few years they had spent together in his old neighborhood. Lori had looked as out of place as a lunar diamond in a trash recycler, and he recalled how happy she had been when he finally agreed to move to the new conapt. He could never forget that night of celebration . . . How could Lori say that none of that had happened? He remembered .
    Yet she had tried to kill him, and it had been no accident of misidentification. She knew who he was and wanted him dead. That suggested there was something in what she said.
    “You think I’m an idiot?” Quaid said bitterly.
    Lori’s gaze and posture indicated that she thought exactly that. She seemed to have become a cold bitch, as different from the loving woman as Quaid was from the killing machine that seemed to be taking over his body. Her tennis outfit was in ruins and there would be a bruise on her face, yet she seemed haughty rather than humiliated.
    “I remember our