Don Pendleton - Civil War II Read Online Free PDF Page A

a wafer-thin tablet toward him. "Have a hype," she suggested.
    "I'm hyped enough already," he assured her.
    "You'll have to take it," she insisted. "It's a proph and a sterilizer too. Sony, rules."
    Winston knew all the damn rules. He accepted the wafer and popped it in his mouth.
    The girl chewed hers, gave Winston a measuring look, then popped in another. "Okay," she said, sighing. "On your back, Flame."
    "I'm on top," he informed her.
    She sighed again, then smiled engagingly and moved onto the recliner, twisting onto her back and raising her arms for Winston's embrace. "The customer's always right," she murmured, the lovely face suddenly taking on an entirely new and hungered expression. She lurched against him and caught her breath in a sharp intake. "See how fast it works?" she gasped.
    Sure, Winston knew how fast it worked. Artificial vitality, another technological breakthrough for a world quickly going flat and sterile. Another artificial abundance, a hype for the masses, a joyride into biological oblivion. Hell, he didn't care. This was an animal thing beneath him, an explosive and joyous animal released from the primeval jungle by 20th century chemical magic. Snarl, baby, snarl—and he'd ride her clear to hell and back if that's what it took to subdue the beast—and he knew very well that it would.
    Sluggishly she said, "Your ten minutes are up, sir."
    "Drop another nickel in."
    "What?"
    "Go run the card through again."
    "I—I'm sorry. I don't think I could go again right now."
    "Haven't you ever heard of after-play? Don't you find anything rewarding about just lying here, all shot to hell and breathing on each other, listening to each other's heartbeats, enjoying the—"
    "I knew I'd get that lecture sooner or later."
    "Forget it. If you want to leave, then leave. If you want j to rest awhile between assignments, then go run the damn card through again. Suit yourself."
    "Well... I could use a breather. This is nice."
    "Sure it is."
    "I'll run the card through on my way out. Okay?"
    "Sure. Uh, how old are you, honey?"
    "Old enough. I'll be graduating next month."
    "From what?"
    "From the accomodations section."
    "Oh? I never knew it worked that way. What do you go to from here?"
    "Flight service. You know—coffee, tea, or chemicals?"
    "That's a graduation?"
    "Well—the credits are better. And it's more fun—you know—you get to mingle more, move around more."
    "See what you mean."
    "Uh—I noticed you're an F-VIP. What bureau?"
    "Urban."
    "Urban what? What does that mean?"
    "You've never heard of the Bureau of Urban Affairs?"
    "Oh, that. Do you like blacks?"
    "They're just people."
    "I mean the town blacks."
    "Yeah, I meant that too."
    "I don't believe I ever saw one. Except pictures."
    "Oh, sure. You've seen some, I know. You just didn't know it. They look just like the government blacks."
    "But do you have to actually go inside those towns?"
    Winston chuckled. "Yes, I do."
    The girl shivered. "President Arlington says they live like animals."
    He sighed, and told her in a conspiratorial whisper, "That could be because they're treated like animals." He pinched her thigh and added, "But no, they're just people. They get by the best they can."
    "Well. . . what do they live like?"
    "Are you really interested?"
    "I guess so."
    Winston pushed to an elbow and reached for a cigarette, lit it, and watched the girl through narrowed eyes. Presently he told her, "No, I doubt that I could ever make you understand. It's something you have to see for yourself."
    The girl's eyes were speculating on him. She said, "I had a teacher once who talked like that. We used to have these rap sessions. He, uh, got fired. I always liked him. I guess he just had too many radical ideas."
    "Yeah, well, don't look at mo like that," Winston told her. "We can't afford radical idealists in this society. When one pops up, we all get together and tear him apart and nail what's left to a willow tree. Hey, this isn't afterplay talk. Give me your