Rudy Rucker - The Ware Tetralogy

And now Cobb began twitching too. He and Onar were in a feedback control loop. Onar’s superleech was controlling Cobb, but Cobb’s thinking cap was controlling Onar. They sprang together like wrestlers, like magnets. The Cobb-directed Onar tried to claw the superleech out of Cobb’s back and the Onar-directed Cobb probed into Onar’s nose in search of the wily thinking cap. Yet at the same time, Onar was directing Cobb not to direct Onar to tear out the superleech, and Cobb was telling Onar not to tell Cobb to try and get the thinking cap. Not to mention the fact that Cobb both was and wasn’t trying to choke Onar. With all the contradictory impulses in the loop, nothing was accomplished, and the two could only flail about in chaos, their spastic motions cycling through a Wrestle Mania strange attractor.

Meanwhile Kennit had placed the muzzle of a pocket-size rail-gun against the side of Yoke’s head. “If you make one more speck of trouble,” he growled into her ear, “I’m going to blow off your head.”

Now a new complication arrived. Moldies were flying in from every side, seemingly drawn by Vaana’s dying cry. Up on the bridge the captain began using the whip-cannon to flail out metal pucks in every direction, and the two other bodyguards opened up automatic weapons fire. Kennit let go of Yoke and began firing his gun at the moldies as well. But there were too many moldies and they were too fast. A half dozen of them homed in on the whip-cannon and cut the thing off at its base. Yoke watched all this, sitting handcuffed on the deck. She’d scooted herself away from the thrashing Onar and Cobb. The King still had her alla, and after Kennit’s threat she was scared to use it again.

As the whip-cannon fell into the sea, Tashtego and Daggoo suddenly arrived. They came running across the deck, teeth bared like joyful pirates.

“Hold your fire!” the King called to his bodyguards. “These are my best agents! Tashtego, Daggoo, can you revive Vaana?”

Instantly taking in the scene, the great Daggoo bent over Vaana, his rapid fingers beginning to splice the halves of her body together. Tashtego disappeared into the ship’s hold.

There was a steady thud of more and more moldies landing on the deck. Each of them went immediately below deck and moments later flew back out of the hatch, two or three times as big as before. Most of the ship’s crew had jumped overboard. Cobb and Onar continued to wrestle.

“Who dealt this mess?” said Kennit, looking around despairingly. He gave a shrill whistle and the two other bodyguards came down the companionway. “We’re taking HRH back to the secure island,” he told them. They started across the deck.

“Let’s not leave quite yet, Kennit,” implored the King. “I want to see if Daggoo can fix Vaana.” Tashtego reappeared from below, much fattened, and carrying a spare slug of imipolex that he gave Daggoo to use on Vaana. From the water came the sound of the ship’s motor launch starting up. One of the bodyguards yelled down that they should wait for the King.

“Take off my handcuffs,” called Yoke. “And give me back my alla. I can use it to save Cobb.”

“Do it, Kennit,” said the King. He handed Yoke’s alla to the big Tongan.

Kennit crossed the deck, holding his rail-gun out at the ready. He removed Yoke’s plastic handcuffs and pressed her alla into her hand. “Just remember, Yoke, if anyone comes near HRH, my boys and I will waste them.” He went back to the other side of the ship.

Now that she had her alla, Yoke realized she didn’t need a knife to take the superleech out of Cobb. She could simply alla it into air—if she could place the control mesh steadily over the superleech, that is. She explained the situation to Tashtego and Daggoo, and the three of them knelt on Cobb to hold him still, with Daggoo fending off Onar with one long arm. At the last instant Onar managed to lunge in and push his hand in as if to protect the superleech. When the alla turned the contents of its control mesh into air, it took a chunk out of Onar’s thumb too. He started bleeding profusely from the wound.

But the main thing was that the leech was gone. Cobb got to his feet and with one glance made Onar crouch down motionless. With no leech-DIM to counter the commands of the thinking cap, Onar was Cobb’s slave.

“Good show!” called the King. “And how’s Vaana doing, Daggoo?”

“She almost back,” said the huge, black moldie, who’d turned his atten­tion back to his injured comrade. “Yaaar.” And indeed, the sinuous green shape of Vaana was lazily beginning to shift about.

“That’s twice you’ve saved my life,” said Cobb, hugging Yoke. “And now I own Onar? I’d sooner own a rabid baboon.”

“I’ll take him,” said Vaana, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. “Thank you, Daggoo. I’d like to do something special with you soon.” She flowed up Daggoo’s body like a vine growing up an oak, then twirled free. Even as Yoke watched, Vaana’s body was continuing to heal. “Hi, Bou-Bou,” called Vaana, waving to the King.

The King waved back a little uncertainly, but when he saw Vaana’s smile he tried to come over. His bodyguards grabbed his arms to hold him back.

“How would I give Onar to you?” Cobb asked Vaana.

“Let me uvvy into you and I can grep your thinking cap control code,” said Vaana.

So Cobb and Vaana did the info transfer, and right away Vaana set Onar to dancing a jig like an organ grinder’s monkey, the blood freely dripping from his hand. Onar’s jaw was pumping, but Vaana wasn’t letting him say anything. His eyes were coals of fear and anger. His forced capering was a ghastly, melancholy sight.

“Oh stop,” said Yoke. “Don’t torture him, Vaana. We should bandage that cut.”

“I’ve got a better idea,” said Vaana, turning so she faced away from the bodyguards and the King. “A way to finish it. Come here, Onar, I want to ask you to do something.” Onar stood before Vaana, tense but obedient, oblivious of his bloody hand.

Before Vaana could speak, Yoke interrupted. “Onar, did you kill Mr. Olou on purpose? Make him answer, Vaana.”

“Yes,” said Onar, his voice strained and cracked. “It was my idea.”

“Go git HRH,” said Vaana softly. “Don’t slow down for them guards. Go git Bou-Bou.”

Onar charged across the deck as if hell-bent on attacking the King. At this, the bodyguards reached their flash point. Moving as one, the three of them raised their weapons and blew off Onar’s head.

“Takes care of the thinking cap too,” said Vaana coldly.

Onar fell heavily and lay still, his neck spurting. Yoke retched. Three days ago she’d made love to this man; his body had been warm and strong, turgid with the same blood that was puddled on the aluminum deck. What a waste, what a pitiful end.

And then the sky seemed to fall in, as something big came crashing into the ocean next to the ship. The object came down so fast that there was an ear-splitting sonic boom. A great wave rolled the ship far to one side like a tin toy, tossing Yoke and the others into the sea.

By a happy accident, Yoke and Cobb ended up next to each other, along with Vaana and the King. The ship, now some distance off, had righted itself. The other moldies and the bodyguards were out of sight. And floating between Yoke and the ship was the great object that had caused the splash. What the hell? It was a flattened disk—a couple of centimeters thick and ten meters across—with two dozen lively beaked heads sticking out of it. Yoke thought of the nursery rhyme about four-and-twenty black­birds baked into a pie. A pizza pie.

“It’s Cappy Jane,” said Vaana, noticing Yoke’s wonderment. “The Tongan geosynchronous satellite. Hi, Bou-Bou, looks like we’re together again.” She wrapped her arm around the King, who was struggling to stay afloat.