Torian

The man looming outside the cell was enormous. He was taller than any of the Infomancers or Lab assistants and easily twice my breadth, even accounting for the bulk of his sheepskin vest and heavy, fur-lined cloak. The shivers that had chased across my skin since the moment I’d stepped out of the Lab—woefully underdressed for the climate, despite the meteorological data at my disposal—increased exponentially at the promise of the warmth inherent in those garments.

I recognized the man as what the Infomancers called the J-4 strain, what the planetary subjects referred to as Sun-born: dark skin, dark eyes, black hair braided close to his scalp with dozens of finger-narrow plaits falling to below his waist. Square jaw—smooth, of course. The Originators had engineered all subjects, regardless of their strain, to be beardless.

He held a wooden staff. Oak equivalent, heartwood, twenty-seven point three cycles old, according to the cybertronic sensors threaded along my veins. The huge chunk of amber chrysocite contained in the cradle atop the staff identified him as a solar energy manipulator.

A mage. Higher in status than anyone else in this primitive habitation. None of them had been any use at all. Perhaps this man would be able to help. To get me away from the Laboratory and its chaos before the Infomancers noticed I was gone and mounted a recovery operation.

This helplessness was intolerable. If I had been allowed even an hour to charge my power grid in the sun, this prison would have been laughably inadequate. But I had lost consciousness after fighting free of the icy river. I had awoken after full dark, a captive in this dreadful hole. With no artificial lights to provide even a glimmer of power, I was close to emergency shut-down.

If I didn’t act quickly, I would have insufficient power to drive my body enhancement modules and convince the mage that I could fulfill his needs. Contingent, of course, on release from this cage.

I studied the mage, who glared balefully out of his single eye, but could get no sexual preference signals at all. He registered as null on my sensor array. Why can’t I read this one? Is it because he’s a mage? From my studies of the Lab databanks, I’d reached the conclusion that the Infomancers, in their hubris, had grossly underestimated the subjects’ abilities, particularly those of the mages.

Or perhaps it was nothing more sinister than my lamentable lack of reserves.

Very well, then. As the Infomancers told the Lab assistants, nothing can be verified without experimentation. Frame your question. Test your hypothesis. Reframe the question. Test again.

I could apply their methods here, although as always, I shrank away from the subterfuge of the enhancement modules. Male, female, balanced—all three were intrinsic to my nature without the need of additional programming. But the Infomancers had installed the modules anyway, claiming it was for my benefit, so I wouldn’t slip and adopt an unsuitable aspect for whoever happened to be my current assignment.

In the absence of more complete data, therefore, I would begin with the default. If male, then female.

“Well?” The mage’s voice was deep, as befit his barrel chest.

I activated the female module. The changes were subtle. Attitude, posture, presentation. I looked up from under my lashes as I’d learned to do when servicing the Infomancers who preferred the female in manner. I could manufacture few of the supporting pheromones any longer, not without a recharge, but I’d found that most males seeking a female didn’t require much in the way of enticement.

Not so with the mage. He continued to glare at me, seeming angry as opposed to aroused.

“What are you playing at?”

Not the default then. I reversed the polarity to male, standing straighter, shoulders back, meeting the mage’s eye without any overt subservience. The Infomancers who sought male sexual partners typically preferred stronger, less pliant behavior. It gave them something to subdue and added to their illusion of superiority.

Since the mage looked strong enough to break me in two should he choose, the need to pretend physical inferiority was clearly moot. A tiny frisson of fear sparked my sensors before I damped down my feedback circuits. No Infomancer had ever damaged me beyond the odd bruise or two. I was too valuable a resource. This man, though, had no such restriction.

Nevertheless, if the mage was a means of escape from the Infomancers, I was prepared to take the risk.

I raised my chin and smiled, forcing the last of the pheromone enhancement from my depleted backup stores.

It did no good. The mage still glared.

“I see why the reeves couldn’t agree on your nature. What are you?”

I lowered my gaze. “I can be whatever you like.”

“What I like is for you to be yourself. Or do you know who that is, since you seem determined to play turnabout?”

“I… I suppose I am both.” I deactivated the module and reverted to my preferred balanced state. “Or neither. It depends on circumstance.”

“Such as who you’re trying to seduce into getting your way?”

The warmth of a blush, the one involuntary response the Infomancers hadn’t been able to program away, started at the base of my throat and rose all the way to my forehead. While mortified at being caught out, I was nevertheless grateful for the heat.

The mage blinked. With a single eye, it almost looked like a wink, although the way the rest of his face went slack, I didn’t mistake it for a response to my sexual overtures.

“I apologize,” I said, low-voiced. “But you have me at a disadvantage, you realize. If you… If I… Oh.” My knees buckled, and I reached out, but missed the wall entirely.

Reserves depleted. Shut-down commencing in three… two… one.