Achilles choice

A protest died on Jillian’s lips as a fanfare blared over the cafeteria’s speaker system. Dr. Kelly’s voice broke through the static. Normally acerbic, it fairly bubbled with excitement. “Your attention please. Donny Crawford’s shuttle has just requested permission to land. He will arrive in approximately one minute.”

Every head in the room swiveled toward the windows.

Crawford swept down in an electric-blue float car, the air beneath the car distorted by a haze of heat and turbulence. A ramp unfolded, touched the ground, and three men stepped out.

Donny Crawford, and the usual Council bodyguards.

A sigh ran through the room as he trotted to the mess hall, flanked by the bodyguards, who were themselves minilinked to his security system. Their constant visual inspection of the grounds would be augmented by the electronic and satellite scans of the entire area. They were 360-degree-alert. It was difficult to imagine anything getting through that screen.

The security was understandable. Donny was high-level Linked, a candidate for the Council now. If his area of expertise had been political science or economics rather than the pure sciences, he might already control serious power.

The external door opened, and he was there, haloed by fading sunlight, radiant.

Striding to the front of the room, he was beautiful, by carriage and visage more effortlessly charismatic than she could have dreamed. The room’s strained, competitive air dissolved.

She had never been so close to a Linked before. Jillian felt a sudden yearning that shocked and dismayed her with its intensity.

He smiled brilliantly. “I just showed up a little early. Thought I’d join you for dinner. Looks good from here.”

“Looks better than it tastes!” somebody yelled.

“We’ll see. Listen, everybody-after you’ve finished eating, I’d like to get to know as many of you as possible. We’re having an informal get-together, all workouts and coaching sessions canceled for the evening.”

Thank God.

With a healthy wave of applause, the trainees launched back into their dinners.

Jillian chewed thoughtfully. She watched Donny as he went to the head of the food line, piling his tray high.

“So what do you know about this guy?” Holly said conspiratorially.

“Well, I know he’s gorgeous.”

Holly’s nod of agreement was emphatic. “I wonder if he can be made. I don’t know how much time he’s got. Or I’ve got…”

“Whoa, girl. Back, back. Rein in those hormones.”

“You don’t believe any of that bull about sex being bad for your athletic performance?”

“Well,” Jillian mused, “I’m not saying having sex during training is a felony..

“That’s nice to hear.”

“It’s more like a misdemeanor: the more I miss, demeanor I get.”

Holly laughed until Jillian had to slap her on the back. It felt like slapping a truck tire.

After dinner was over, they retired to the meeting hall next door. Tables and chairs were arranged in starbursts.

Crawford circulated through the room shaking hands, smiling, flirting, talking shop. Jillian saw nothing overtly peculiar about his hairline..

Beneath Donny’s hair a wire mesh had been implanted in the scalp. Metal strands only a few molecules thick extended into various areas of his brain. They controlled the firing of neurons and synapses, and regulated many of the biological functions that Boost had disrupted. That was Donny Crawford’s way out: as long as he remained Linked, the side effects of Boost wouldn’t damage him.

Finally, his circuitous palm-pressing route brought him to Jillian.

His smile was beneficent. “Jillian Shomer. I’ve wanted to meet you.”

“Yes,” she said clumsily, instantly embarrassed. The only other reply that flashed into her mind was, We’d make beautiful babies.

“Well, I think you’re going to show us something special.”

It was an act of physical control to keep her reply out of the realm of the suggestive. “I’m in fellrunning. Intervals, broken-ground, obstacles, and so on.”

His eyes crackled with secret amusement. “Yes, I know.”

Wasn’t there any place they could be alone? “I hear that you mix some free-climbing into your workouts.”

“I’m looking forward to the Rockies,” he said, breathing deeply. “The air is thin, and very clean-should be a good burn.”

She lunged into what she hoped was an opening. “Is there any chance that we could get together?”

“No, I’m afraid not. There’s really no time.”

She nodded. Gods cannot sport with mere mortals.

The Greek gods did!

And mortals suffered for it.

Donny moved on. As if an envelope of intimacy had ruptured, suddenly she heard other conversations around her, saw other faces. Her cheeks flushed red.

To heck with the rules. Come what may, she had to see more of him.

The sun hadn’t risen yet.

Jillian had been awake since three-thirty. She lay on a tarp, watching the guest dorms through a pair of infrared binoculars borrowed from Holly.

She knew from vidzine articles that Donny Crawford got in his first workout of the day before dawn.