Part 2

I glanced upward and laughed. The boys' fleet swarmed helplessly outside the dome like bugs on a lampshade, watching their hangout ripped to pieces.

"Get their arsenal!" cried Naomi.

"Revenge for Phyllis!"

We dived again, spraying the roofless barracks with destruction, blasting huge craters in their machine shop, starting explosions of ammunition that rocked our ship, threatening to blow off the dome in one piece.

At last the fun ended. "Only one missile left," Naomi warned.

"Hang on, then," I said gaily, stabbing the rocket controls. "Callisto girls are homeward bound!"

_Blam!_ went our torpedo, tearing a second hole in the mangled airlock. And out that hole we went, accelerating like crazy, pursued into deep space by the entire enemy fleet.

* * * * *

As long as we were chased, and missile fragments rattled against our hull, we continued in high spirits. Even when the boys scored a hit that forced us to don our space suits, we remained elated. But the minute the Ios broke-off pursuit we renewed our antagonism.

"Say," said Naomi over her helmet phone, "this isn't the right course for Callisto."

"No, dear, I'm landing on Ganymede first. I don't think it's safe to go on until we get that fuel leak fixed."

"Why should we pay good money to a mechanic when our own girls can do the job?"

"We'd never reach Callisto. You don't realize how dense the fumes are in this cabin. We could explode just like that." I tried futilely to snap my clumsy spacesuit fingers.

"Look," said Naomi irritably, "let me do the worrying. I'm the leader and I say we go directly home."

"I beg your pardon," I objected, holding my temper. "I understood this was a fifty-fifty proposition."

"Callisto!" she snarled. "I order you."

"Shut up!" I snapped. "I'm pilot of this ship, and space law says you obey me."

We'd have had our final showdown right then and there, except it's practically impossible to wrestle in spacesuits.

We landed in Ganymede City and haggled over price with the same garageman who sold me my used 2064 Spacer (being equipped for battle by our ordnance crew even as we talked). He brought his bid down finally from a hundred to seventy-five solars.

"Okay, have it ready in an hour," I said, walking from the shop.

Naomi followed indignantly. "Vera. Just where in the hell are you going to get seventy-five solars?"

I paused on the sidewalk, hands hitched to my weapons belt. "I'll dig it up if you'll agree to do some research for me."

Naomi smiled craftily. "Steal it, eh? All right, I'll go along with you for the time being."

I left her at the public library and headed, with serious misgivings, in the direction of my family home.

Ganymede City is a drab industrial town of a million or so people, with very little excitement or glamor beneath its turquoise dome. The chamber of commerce used to give a big buildup to the view of Jupiter and the good job opportunities when they first wanted to attract workers from Earth. Those poor shnooks soon got fed up with astronomy when the boom fizzled out and the only jobs left were in the metal refineries.

I hate my father who is a jerk just like the rest of them. Never quite became shop foreman. Never quite able to buy his own house. Never quite saved enough to move his family to Saturn's ring where the real boom took place. And always so damn preachy to me and the younger kids. And my mother disgusted me too for just sitting around and taking it all those years.

"What are you doing here?" my father demanded. "You're supposed to be on your way to Mars."

"Vera, what happened?" my mother whined. "Why aren't you on the ship?"

"I need a little more money. Seventy-five solars."

"What do you mean, a little more money?" said my father angrily. "What happened to the money we gave you?"

"And the tickets," my mother, anxiously. "You promised me you'd go to school. What did you do with the tickets?"

"Don't worry. I got a refund. It's all in a safe place."

My father got menacing. "Say, just what are you up to? You haven't gone back to that gang by any chance?"

"Oh God forbid!" my mother cried.

"I need seventy-five solars," I repeated calmly. "Are you going to give it to me?"

"Answer me!" my father roared. "Have you gone back to that gang?"

"That's none of your damn business."

Infuriated, he started towards me. "No daughter of mine is going to talk to me like that. I'm going to give you the spanking you've had coming for seventeen years."

I drew my whip and slashed him down the side of his face and chest, cutting his shirt half open. He sat down with an unbelieving expression and fingered the red welt. He looked at me through glazed eyes, almost in a state of shock, as I rewound my whip.

My mother broke the long silence. "Here, Vera. Here are your seventy-five solars. We never want to see you or hear from you again."

* * * * *

News of our gang wars rarely appears in the adult press. I guess they're afraid the publicity might encourage more teenagers to join up. But the colonial struggle with Sirius had ended, and there wasn't much else happening in the Solar System just at that time, so our raid on Io made the headlines.

GIRLS BLAST BOY HIDEOUT Callisto fleet bombs, strafes Io base in bloody juvenile gang war

Humiliated Ios vow retaliation for fifty-ship sneak attack

* * * * *

We were received as heroes by our gang. Even the inaccuracies in the news story contributed to our glory--the Ios being ashamed to admit all the havoc was the result of only one solitary girl ship. Our hussies and aides greeted us in the First Hall with a wild cheer, crowding around us to beg for details.

"Later," said Naomi, flushed with triumph, "we'll call a formation later. We'll tell our story to the entire gang."

"Back to your posts, now!" I shouted. "You hussies get your girls ready for battle. We can expect the boys to counterattack at any time."

The First Hall cleared rapidly of all except a few of our top officers.

"Confidentially," I said, "I won't go for any more of this shared leadership stuff. This gang can only be run by one boss at a time. It's going to be either me or Naomi, but not both of us."

"Those are my sentiments exactly," said Naomi. "Let's get this fight over with once and for all."

Jeanette, always the reasonable one, stepped forth quietly. "Look, this is a very bad time to hold a duel, just when we're waiting for the Ios to appear."

"Yeah, you two, you're spoiling our victory celebration."

"Put it off until tomorrow."

"Until after the next meeting."

"Besides," added Jeanette, "Naomi and Vera worked well enough together during their raid on Io."

"Yes! That's right! We'll need you!"

The sentiment for postponement of our duel was irresistible. We both bowed to it as gracefully as we could.

"I'll work with you, Naomi, but I'll hate you every minute of it."

"Likewise!" she snarled, "and twice as much."

Fat, fog-throated Ginger edged next to me. "Well, now that that's settled for the time being, maybe you two can agree on what to do with this spy we caught.

"Shoot him!" said Naomi. "He's a man."

"Let's first determine whether or not he's a spy," I said.

"There you two go disagreeing again," Ginger complained. "Now just what do you want me to do with him?"

"I've worked out a test we can give him. We can tell whether he's lying or telling the truth when he says he's a professor."

"Oh, this is all so much nonsense," said Naomi impatiently. She withdrew a piece of paper from her belt wallet, handed it to me. "Here," she said sarcastically, "here is that research you had me do at the library. I authorize you to handle this matter for both of us."

She stalked out of the hall with a short, scornful laugh.

* * * * *

Ginger had locked him in the nuclear torch storeroom, a none too healthy place. We escorted him to the communications office. I began the interrogation.

"You say your name is--?"

"Lewis Worth."

"And your occupation is a professor?"

"Assistant professor of sociology, Mars University." He clipped his words with deliberate over-formality. His expression was faintly amused.

"So you say, and so your papers say, but those could be forgeries, you admit?"

"Yes, that's possible," he replied softly, "but it's so easy for you to check with my department."

"Undoubtedly there is someone there by that name," Ginger interjected. "But that doesn't prove your identity."

"I have here a list of members of your alleged department. If you actually belong to it you should be able to give me their names."

He nodded slowly. "A fair test."

"Then call them off, beginning with the department chairman. And if you make a single mistake, I'll have my girl shoot you on the spot."

Ginger raised her blaster eagerly.

A minute later she lowered it in disappointment.

"Very well," I said. "You weren't lying. Now tell me why you came here. And be brief, if you please. Because, fifteen minutes from now I want you on your ship heading back to wherever you came from."

The professor stared at me for a moment. "The truth is, I came to see you."

Ginger blushed, the first time I had ever seen her do a thing like that. "Wait outside," I told her sternly.

When we were alone I faced him inquiringly.

"Oh don't misunderstand me," he began. "It isn't anything personal. And then again, maybe it is. You see, in my academic language, you represent the charismatic personality."

"Just what do you mean?" I demanded.

"Well, as I told you, I'm studying juvenile delinquency, gangs, and leaders of gangs--the whole problem of youth's orientation in society, and the way he reacts. Frankly, Vera, you and your gang have built up a terrible reputation in adult circles, and I, for one, am perfectly, fascinated. I wonder if you'd admit me to your gang?"

"What the hell are you talking about!" I was really shocked.

"Oh--oh--strictly as an observer, mind you. For a short time only."

"Not a chance, professor."

"You see, I'm seeking to understand--and it would be a contribution to social science if you'd help me find out--just why you teenagers are striking out at each other, scorning adult society, rejecting the opposite sex. And equally interesting to me is the subtle change that takes place each time a--"

I cut him short. "Look, Professor Worth. You said you haven't been matrixed. Then this is no place for you to set up shop. Because war is our way of life, and someone is liable to kill you just for the fun of it. Bad situation for a man like yourself who can only afford to die once."

I strode to the door. "Ginger, escort the professor to his ship."

It was a good thing we got rid of him then. Minutes later, our instruments detected ships within a quarter of a million miles, and the alert was sounded. Shortly afterwards, we made positive identification: the Io gang!

Naomi and I quarreled for a second over strategy. Should we split up, each leader piloting her own ship and responsible for half the fleet? Or should the two of us occupy one ship? I insisted on the latter, and when Naomi disagreed I knocked her unconscious with the butt of my whip and dragged her into my own Spacer coupe. Ordnance had worked fast. It was fully equipped for battle.

I ordered our entire fleet into attack formation. Together we zoomed up to meet the oncoming enemy, ninety of our spaceships to a hundred and ten of theirs.

I rocketed out in front of my fleet. The boys had begun firing. Their missiles exploded in space like brilliant fireworks, multicolored bursts on all sides of us. I signalled my girls to commence firing, launching our first missile at point-blank thousand-mile range.

It scored a direct hit, exploding an Io ship to comet dust. I felt serenely happy. I wanted to share my feeling of triumph with Naomi who still lay unconscious on the cabin floor.

"Hey, girl, wake up! We're in combat!"

She stirred, started to regain her senses. Her eyes fluttered. Just as they opened our ship exploded to oblivion.

* * * * *

This was familiar, this coming out of sleep with infinitely tender caresses of light, in a vacuum tube the exact shape of your naked body, a tube that dissolved at the exact instant of awakening into a warm epidermal glow, while the bee-like humming faded into silence and only the barest trace of hyacinth scent lingered in the nostrils. It had happened before. How many times? Once? Twice? Three times? All my limbs felt supremely relaxed as after sedation. All my thoughts were clear and calm as a hidden spring on a wooded hillside. Earth summer. Timeless.

Abruptly the marble slab felt cold against my back and the spell was broken. I sat up too suddenly, for a monitor voice said, reassuringly:

"Have no fear, young lady. You have awakened in the Matrix Center on Ganymede. There, you will recall, you at some time in the past commissioned us to make a vibration pattern of your total physical, mental and spiritual self.

"You did this," the recording continued, "against the possibility that, at some future time, accident or the unavoidable hazards of honor would result in your organically premature death. And this has come to pass. But, by means of your matrix, you have escaped dissolution. You are an exact duplicate of your former self in all but the most minor respects.

"Congratulations on your good fortune, and welcome to a new life where we trust you will find the greatest measure of personal fulfillment."

As the recording ended, an attendant entered the room.

"Hello, Vera." She was smiling and pleasant voiced. "Want to put on that white gown and come with me?"

I followed her in bare feet over carpeting soft as lamb wool, into an office that was really not much like an office--more like a cozily furnished living room. On the couch sat a balding man in a tweed suit.

Vague earlier memories gradually took shape. "Is this my placement interview?"

The man smiled. "Yes. You have a wonderful memory net in that brain of yours."

"Wasn't I supposed to remember?"

"It's usually one of the things erased in the duplication process. But then, you were here not so very long ago."

I tried to recall. "It couldn't have been too recently."

Again the interviewer smiled. "Only a week ago, my dear."

He saw my dismay. "Oh, but don't let that bother you, Vera. That's about par for gang leaders."

Curiously, when he said the words 'gang leaders' I felt a little bit embarrassed, almost ashamed.

"Well now," he said, getting down to business, "I should like to have a brief chat with you about your future. It's our job to help give you a fresh new start in life. Can you think of anything you'd especially like to do, any career you would like to follow?"

I considered this but drew a blank. "No, frankly, I can't."

"Well, then, perhaps you'd like to return to Callisto?" He said this in a totally neutral fashion.

"No. Not that anymore."

"Good," he said, rising to his feet.

All at once I was shivering and trembling. "Something is wrong with me. I mean, it's true what I just said. That's how I feel. I don't want to go back to the gang. But--I can remember how differently I felt--before. And somehow it seems wrong to change one's mind so--suddenly."

His hands rested on my shoulders. "Vera, this is what going through the matrix process does to a person." His voice was low, boundlessly sympathetic. "Each time it heals a little bit of your personality along with the physical battle scars. The change is very slight and very subtle. You hardly noticed it at all the first time, did you?"

I shook my head. "But, how long can this ... healing process go on?"

"Some personalities, Vera, are terribly hurt, and they must die several times before they become whole." He took my hand. "And now, my dear, allow me to suggest two alternatives for your future. Doubtlessly, in a universe of infinite possibilities there are infinite alternatives one might take. But I know you quite well (though this may surprise you) and I feel that if you can happily accept one of the two that I mention, you will not again have to seek death in order to return here. For that is, after all, the meaning of your immediate past."

"What are these two alternatives?" My voice was quite small. I felt as though my life was warped into this moment like a mobius sheet.

"You will go to Mars University, and there train yourself to become a laboratory technician, as you originally promised your parents. This is a useful profession, of service to society. Sufficient funds will be provided."

Chagrin filled me. I rebelled at the thought. "Or...?"

"Or--and this is also a hard choice, though it may seem glamorous at first--you may become a member of a select expedition to a remote star which our astronomers say has a planetary system capable of supporting our kind of life. There we will plant a new colony."

Joy and enthusiasm welled up inside me. "Why, that sounds wonderful! That's my choice."

He shook his head slowly. "Wait. Wait, Vera. This is also to be considered. You will never again see Jupiter or any of the Solar System. You will travel for a hundred and fifty years. Most of this time you will sleep in deepfreeze state, of course. But inevitably you will age twenty years in the process."

This meant I would arrive at the other end, thirty-seven years old. My eagerness cooled. "What a pair of alternatives!"

He nodded gravely. "You give them both some thought. Meanwhile in the next room you'll find some new clothes. See me afterwards." He pressed a button on the edge of the couch and the attendant came in.

"Yes, Professor Worth?"

"Take Vera along please."

Something buzzed alive in my brain. It was like a set of tumblers clicking into place. I remembered. I turned at the door.

"I remember you! You were the spy--that is--"

"Yes, my dear."

"But--"

He smiled. "I was observing you, Vera. You were due for your fifth matrix--your last by law. Society didn't want to lose you. I hoped my appearance would react on your subconscious, bring your previous experiences here forward. To help bring out the good, so to speak. It was strictly experimental."

He was still smiling as the door closed behind me.

In the next room, Naomi had just finished dressing. She glared her hostility.

"That was a lousy trick you played on me, Vera."

"I guess it was. I'm sorry."

"You're _sorry_! Girl, if I had my whip and claws right now I'd _make_ you feel sorry."

I was silent a moment. Then I asked her, almost timidly: "Naomi, you're not going back to the gang now, are you?"

She stared at me peculiarly. "Are you mad? Of course I'm going back. I'm _leader_ of the Callisto girls." She stomped through the outer door, and I had the feeling she would be back more than once.

When I had put my clothes on--a simple brown jerkin with blue long-sleeved shirt--I returned to my interviewer. "Professor Worth, may I propose a third alternative? After all, if this is a universe of infinite possibilities, maybe two is narrowing it down too much.

"Professor, I know I can never go back to the girl-gang way of life. And I understand now why the police left us alone when we ran wild. They were letting us work out our problems.

"And somehow, that's why I feel I have to reject your two alternatives. I'm me, and I can't limit myself in the ways you suggest. You needn't be afraid. I won't break any more of society's rules. I won't try to hurt anybody, deliberately. I'll probably get a job somewhere, on this planet or some other planet. Maybe I'll make myself useful, maybe not.

"But what does the universe have to offer a girl of my experience and energy and," I hesitated, "charismatic personality? I intend to find out. I want the freedom to find out. Do you see? My third alternative, Professor, is to walk out that door with no obligation to anyone."

He seemed not to be listening. He seemed to be thinking his own thoughts.

"I think that can be arranged," he said finally.