Michael Stackpole - Wolf and Raven

On the screen I saw Seaver rear back and throw. Jimmy took a wicked cut at the ball, but missed it cleanly. He twisted around and hit the ground. He stayed down for a second, then shook his head and stood again. The umpire called for time while Jimmy backed off and brushed dirt from his clothes.

I smiled at Clark. "He's tougher than Ken."

Clark shrugged. "What happened to Ken was not very subtle, but was necessary as a show of what can be done. This evening, the effects have been more gentle."

Use me, Longtooth. We will get the gun away from him and stop him.

I shook my head and rubbed at the back of my neck. I still hurt from the clubbing and wasn't certain I could concentrate enough to summon the Old One's help. Moreover, I still knew that if I did so, the game would be lost, I'd be dead, and Clark would be free to continue doing what he was doing. A second pitch came in and Jimmy started to swing for it, then held up. The ball grooved straight down the middle and the umpire yelled, "Strike."

Clark smiled. "One more pitch and your boy strikes out. The anguished cries of thousands will be enough to drown out the shot that kills you."

"Think so?"

Clark composed his face into a mask of serene civility. "Count on it."

The wind-up.

The pitch.

I gave Clark a spitter.

The little pellet of gum came in like a hanging curve. He stumbled back from it and batted it away with his left hand. Disgust curled his upper lip and he was about to snap something at me, when he heard a sound that stopped him.

The crack of a bat on a ball.

Funny thing about being that far out in centerfield. On the screen I saw Jimmy swing and connect, but it was a second or so before I heard the sound of the hit. Clark half turned to look at the screen I was watching, and completed his turn about the time the ball cleared the fence.

I don't think anyone noticed that only five of the six mortar tubes sent fireworks exploding over the score-board. The one that hit Clark entered his back, lifting him up off the ground about a meter or so, and spinning him around. As he came back to where I could see his face, I caught a hint of horror and agony in his eyes, then he vomited green fire. His body somersaulted once, then hit the ground and flopped a lot until greasy gray smoke rose from his back and mouth.

Longtooth.

I rested my head back against the wall and closed my eyes to let that image fade to black. "Yes?"

I saw Jimmy about a day later. I was leaning against his ride and smiled as he came walking over. "Never got a chance to tell you, that was a great dinger yesterday."

"Thanks." He glanced at the ground, then put his satchel down and folded his arms across his chest. "They told us some of what was going on. They said Clark had extra code inserted into the statsofts that wasn't picked up in the verification process. Said that allowed him to code orders for us and load them in through the Scoreboard."

"Right." I shook my head. "Should have guessed what was going on all the way along. The only folks outside the league who benefited from the statsoft situation are gamblers. They can run the stats and figure out how a game should end up, then adjust odds accordingly. Doing what he was doing, Clark showed he could skew those probabilities big time."

"Think he was betting on the games?"

"Possible. Apparently he still slotted one of the Pete Rose years he used to play." I shrugged. "No gambler will admit to taking his bets, but I think he was after something bigger. I think he saw Rose as being victimized by gamblers and wanted to avenge him. By showing he could skew the results, he was in a position to blackmail gambling concerns and get payoffs from them to do nothing."

Jimmy nodded, but the stiffness in his posture didn't ease. "Funny how letting someone else ride you can get you mixed up."

"Generally why there's only one personality allowed per body." I smiled, but Jimmy didn't return it.

"They said you got to Clark before he could zap me with his thing. Analysis of the code he broadcast said I would have struck out, not hit a homer."

"Really? They didn't tell me that."

"Is what you told them the truth?"

I shrugged. "Truth is open to a lot of interpretations. The only truth I care about was the round-tripper you notched in the eighth. It gave us the win, puts us in the pennant hunt."

"But you know."

"Your secret? Yeah, I know." I nodded slowly. "When you didn't strike out, I saw the surprise on Clark's face-for all of a second-and I realized we're a lot alike. What you see now is the real me, but what you saw the night Thumper died, that's part of me, too. A secret part of me. Not even Val knows about it, nor Lynn. It's me when I'm beingnatural."

I smiled up at him. "You're anatural, too. You're not what people expect. You may load the software so it can be verified, and you've had that much work done on you, but you're not using wired reflexes to hit or field. You're just you."

Jimmy's face hardened. "Ever since I was a kid I was in love with baseball. It's a game for kids and folks who can still take joy in the things that kids take joy in."

"Instead of those who slot Kidjoy 1.3?"

"Right, exactly." He snorted a little laugh. "I saw baseball as a game for people, not machines, and my father agreed. He works for the company that owns the team, so he's been able toadjust all the records that show how much work was done on me and the league thinks I'm just like everyone else. But I'm not. Now you know my secret, so my career is over."

"And you know mine." I gave him a quick grin. "I'll trust you if you trust me."

"That's it?"

"Is there something more I should want?"

"I think so. I mean…" Jimmy ran a hand back over his close-cropped hair. "Whenever I thought about what would happen when someone learned my secret, I figured they'd want money. Baseball makes billions."

I stepped forward and clapped him on the arms. "Yeah, but like you said, it's a game for kids and those who can still take joy in kid things. Consider me a big kid. I've got no use for money. I'd rather have a friend."

"Yeah, kinda more precious than money, isn't it?" "It's a supply and demand thing, I think."

Jimmy stooped, picked up his bag, then draped an arm over my shoulder. "So, pal, food?"

"And women?"

"Works for me." Jimmy smiled and tossed me a wink. "Nice to know I have a friend who thinks of everything."

Fair Game

It looked like the prayers hadn't helped after all.

The mouth of the alley didn't boast much of a crowd. The onlookers had all seen a dead body before. As this one had all its parts and wasn't anyone famous, the gawkers had nothing to stare at. The fact that most of them were allergic to the strobing blue lights on top of the Lone Star cruiser knifed across the sidewalk and shining its headlights on the manmeat also helped thin the rabble. No one lingered in my way as I crossed the curb, squeezed by the cruiser and into the alley.

The ork cop looked up at me, raindrops streaking white in the headlights' glare. "Know him, Kies?" Harry Braxen blinked and narrowed his eyes against the warm rain. "Take a good look."

I didn't need more than a second. His pink eyes staring up at the gray Seattle sky, the albino looked more like a wax statue than the remains of a human being. His white hair had been sheared into a mohawk, and the rain failed to wash the glued spikes down. His lips had never been that colorful, but their unhealthy blue blended nicely with the grayish pallor of his skin and the mists coming in off the Sound.

"You knew him too, Braxen. You saw him in the Barrens the day Reverend Roberts did the martyr dance."The same day I told a little boy to say his prayers so the albino would be okay. "His name was Albion. I don't think he had a SIN."