Against That Time

by Edward McKeown

  I ran the other way, desperate to circle around my misdirected enemy. Luck wasn’t with me. The container stacks were shorter and as I leapt down on one, a slug hit me in the side. I screamed and fell, unable to breathe for a few seconds. One of the armored panels stopped penetration, but I felt like I’d been hit with an aircar. I got to my feet and retreated into the shadows. More shots came up singly, puncturing or occasionally bouncing off the containers around me.

  Bastard can’t see me, I realized.He’s trying to get me with a ricochet. I reached into a sealed inner pocket, pulled a trauma tab and pressed it inside my shirt against the ribs. I didn’t know if they were fractured or not, but I had to stop the pain and immobilize the ribs or I couldn’t run. With a hiss, the tab fired, injecting painkiller and anti-inflammatory into me. Sensing no open wound, it slid a spider-web-like worknet over the ribs; not quite as good as wrapping, but it helped.

  A wash of yellow flame came over the edge of the container. My enemy had new tricks. I yelped and backed away. He’d shake the containers next.

  But I’d underestimated him. These containers were on moveable pallets. I heard servos start and saw the various container stacks moving. He was taking away my hideaway over his head. I looked longingly at the other stacks, particularly the high ones in the back, but not knowing where he was below me, I didn’t dare risk leaping the widening gaps.

  Sweat trickled down my side.Well, you wanted to be independent, I thought, and here you are by yourself with blanked-out communication, no weapons and an armored alien hunting you. If he doesn’t kill you, Jaelle and Maauro will draw lots.

  I looked for something I could dump down on my enemy, crushing him, but while the containers varied some in size and shape, the smallest was the size of an aircar. There was no way to drop them on him using only muscle. I looked at my useless com. Quickly I flipped it open. There was a strobe and alarm setting for emergencies. I set it to drain the whole battery, then crawled to the edge just as the alien struck the tower of containers. His tipping it gave away his position. I leaned over and spotted him. His armored hands were bending the metal of the containers. He looked up but I could see no face through the glass. He jerked in surprise.

  “Fire in the hole,” I yelled and dropped the com toward him. It instantly flashed and emitted an ear-splitting whoop that I hoped would overload his sensors. Either thinking it was a bomb, or dazzled by the light and sound, my enemy stumbled back, crashed into a low rail and toppled over.

  I raced to the other side and over, half-falling, half-climbing down. Then I hung by my hands for a second and dropped. Rolling lessened the impact but brought a white flash of agony from my ribs. I scrambled to my feet as the container pile heaved and tumbled toward me. Fortunately the upper containers missed me, standing so close to the lower ones. I ran, clutching my side, praying there was a fire exit or something on this side.

  There wasn’t. I heard the pounding of the machine’s feet behind me as it rounded into the lane I was in, up against the back wall of the warehouse. Now it had a straight shot at me and there was nowhere to hide. I was dead.

  The wall next to me exploded inward and Maauro appeared, standing between it and me. “To the floor,” she shouted, her artificial voice so loud that I obeyed instantly.

  She turned toward my enemy and raced at him head on. A torrent of laser, flame and gunfire embraced her.

  I see my enemy. More importantly, he is diverted from targeting Wrik to face me. My tactics are limited to a frontal assault by Wrik’s foolish creation of this scenario. I am very cross with him. The flames licking out at me are irrelevant, far too cool to be of any concern. Automatic weapon fire smashes into my body but is deflected. He is firing too high at me to get the prone Wrik. The laser is the concern. It’s a commercial model, not military. I exploit this by cyber attack, creating a feedback loop that will short-circuit the laser. Still, I have no desire to endure even a millisecond more of the powerful beam. I perform a high-speed forward shoulder roll, coming out of it in a vertical leap. Against anything like myself, all this time hanging about in the air would be ill advised. But the slowness of my enemy’s reaction time tells me this is a biological life form and he will have extreme difficulty targeting me as I move in three axes.

  This proves true as I slide out of target lock well over his head, his fire trailing me considerably then sputtering as my cyber attack disables his weapon. I unleash a torrent of flechettes but his armor is proof against them. I do not have time to prime and activate my plasma torch as I drop toward my enemy. I elect for brute force as we crash together.

  This time I am surprised as I grapple with my enemy, tearing at his suit. The unit is immensely powerful, generating almost as much force as I do. It seizes my arms and attempts to rip them out, but I am made of malleable ceramic and collapsed metals. My arms have more give and, as he tries to pull me apart by holding me in front of him like a child’s toy, I lash out with my feet in a series of strikes that destroy the arms holding me and a substantial portion of his midsection. I detect methane, silicon and a number of highly unusual organic chemicals as I tear free of my shattered enemy. This identifies it as a Ribisan. No other being would use that atmosphere.

  I am unsure if he is totally destroyed, so I smash his midsection again, pick up the entire unit and fling it some ten meters into a wall. Dust and metal fly up and I am briefly concerned that I may have overdone it and brought down the wall. But only the interior concrete is damaged and the enemy lies in a pile of rubble.

  Wrik runs up to me. “Are you alright?”

  “No,” I reply. “I have a very stupid friend who takes unforgiveable risks with his life for insufficient reasons.”

  “I’m sorry. God, I really am. Maauro, you’re damaged.”

  “I understand that a traditional method of dealing with misbehavior of your children is to beat their posteriors. I am giving serious consideration to how yours will withstand my armored hand even if I leave the palm blades retracted.

  “Honestly, Wrik, how could you be so stupid? How could you fail to see the probability of a trap? Why would you explore this tac-intel without me? You’re fortunate beyond reasonable odds that I was able to detect the weapon fire and home in on your location.”

  He hung his head. “I really have no excuse.”

  “I do not seek excuses,” I said, moderating my tone, I realized that my fear for his safety had made me sound and appear harsh. I also detect the scent of a trauma tab and, ignoring his protestations, pull open his jacket and quickly scan his interior. His appallingly fragile body has taken soft tissue injury but no structural damage. I note that his jacket armor is dented by a round that would clearly have been fatal if it had hit an unprotected spot. I must fight again to control my anger.

  “Excuses,” I repeat, “do not interest me. But there are reasons for this behavior that you and I will deal with later when time permits. I have not forgiven this. Not yet.”

  The suit lay where Maauro had flung it.

  “Are you sure you’re alright?” I demanded of her.

  “Its grip was formidable,” she replied, even as the scratches and cuts on her body disappeared. “Had it been able to root itself more securely, it would have torn me to pieces. I have some minor stress fractures that my damage control can deal with.”

  “Who the hell is it in there?”

  “Its individual identity is unclear but that it is a Ribisan is beyond doubt. This has serious implications for the mission we have just undertaken.”

  We walked over to the prone Ribisan.

  “Wrik, please stay behind me. It may still be dangerous.”

  Wisps of gas escaped from the powered suit, but the being inside was still alive. I’d never seen a Ribisan in the flesh, or even paid that much attention to them on Vids. Staring at this one told me little though. At this range, I could see better into the helmet. I couldn’t even find s
omething like a face to regard. Its head, if that’s what it was, looked more like a cluster of grapes. The body, from what I could see, was a central stalk of ropy muscles that seemed to branch out below, like the arms of a squid. The bipedal shape of the power suit was evidently just a device to allow it to use Confed facilities with greater ease. The Ribisan seemed to be a cross of starfish, jellyfish and squid. Yet it was a powerful sentient and had crossed great gulfs of space to try and kill us.

  A light played on its chest. “The lost must be returned to the holy,” a mechanical voice intoned from a speaker somewhere in the suit.

  “We do not understand,” Maauro said. “Nor do we know why you attacked us. I know little of your species, but enough to know that this atmosphere is poisonous to you. We cannot repair your suit or transport you to safety quickly enough. You will be dead soon, from that, if not from the injuries I dealt you.”

  “Do you have any final wishes to make known to us?” I added. “Anyone to notify?”

  “NNNnnooooooo. Dieeeee…” The alien quivered violently and went still. Lights on its chest plate shifted in color intensity.

  “Is it dead?” I asked.

  Maauro stared intently for a second. “Yes. It attempted to detonate a small charge of plastic explosive in its power pack. I interrupted the signal. It was quite determined to kill us.”

  I gulped.

  “My scans of its electronic systems lead me to believe that this assassin did not expect to return. Virtually all data and programs beyond the minimum necessary to run the suit are wiped. Beyond the fact that this is a member of a species rare on this world, we can learn little from the body.”

  “Surely someone from the legation will know who it is?”

  “If it was sent with government sanction they will deny it, though it seems unlikely that it could have arrived here without such help. Also, if we report this death, whoever sent it will know that his mission miscarried and possibly make additional efforts.”

  “This isn’t Kandalor, Maauro. We can’t just go around killing people. The authorities are going to ask questions.”

  “I will dispose of the body.”

  “How?”

  She looked up at me.

  “Scratch that, I’ll be happier not knowing.”

  “Yes, return to the office. Make no mention of this beyond warning the others that enemy agents may be tracking us.”

  “What else is new?” I muttered.

  Wrik leaves and I lift the alien carcass. It is heavier than me, so I must balance carefully. We were fortunate that the attack occurred in the evening near the docks. The area was left mostly to automatics and lesser AIs, which I can easily blind. As I close in on the waterfront with my awkward burden there are occasional biological workers. I wait for activity in the area to lessen, then sprint to the end of the nearest dock and tumble us both into the water. I surface and scan the area. We are unobserved.

  I return to the bottom and seize the corpse, then set up an ECM barrier so I do not register on any of the various traffic or police sensors of this busy port. Reshaping my feet into paddles, I vibrate my legs at sufficient speed to move myself and my awkward burden at 50 kmh. Greater speeds will have to wait until I am in deeper water and further from port instruments. An hour sees me out of the danger zone and I accelerate to 300 kmph for two hours, heading for the deepest abyss within practical distance.

  An hour into the journey we are stalked by a large predator, doubtless attracted by some leakage from the Ribisan’s suit, a simple misfortune that the predator finds these exotic fluids attracting. I fire a barrage of high-speed pellets though its brain. It begins to sink, trailing a ribbon of its own lifeblood, doubtless to attract others of its kind.

  I swim on, dragging my dead enemy until I reach and descend into the abyss. At bottom I examine the environmental suit. While it is of Confed standard, its power cells and some other equipment are far in advance of Confederate tech. The Ribisans are renowned as master engineers and I can see why. I absorb the power cells, which are sufficient to bring me up to full reserve power. I then scavenge some rare and exotic metals that are useful to me.

  Secure from observation I disassemble the suit, tearing it into small and difficult to identify fragments, which I distribute over a wide area. The Ribisan’s body looks natural in the fluid environment and I wonder if this depth might have been more like its home. I dissect the creature to learn as much as possible. After extracting all the intelligence I can, I extend my hand, fingers wide and rotate them at 5,000 rpm. In a minute the body is reduced to tiny fragments that will surely dissolve or be devoured.

  No trace is left of the sentient who wagered his life against Wrik and me only hours ago. I wonder about this being, who has come so far into an environment that must have been strange and frightening to it, compelled by … by what? A sense of duty? Payment? Threats? What is said at the end about “the holy” hinted at a religious fervor.

  I dismiss the question; there isn’t enough data. However I cannot help but wonder about my enemy, now gone as if it had never existed. It must have had a network, must have been important to someone, who would now never know its fate.

  I remember the day when Wrik lay near death, after having been shot by the Guild gunwoman, Lostra. He asked me never to delete my memories of him. I note in my memory the GPS location of this place and unlike with some I have killed, I will not delete this memory. The Ribisan fought well and was an adversary to be respected, dedicated to whatever causes that brought him against us.

  I know that many biologicals have beliefs about some invisible part of themselves that survives death; for all that there has been no verification of this belief in the history of sapience. It is not a question that I have pondered much till now, alone in the great deep, in a cloud of microscopic fragments of my enemy. To me this belief in an immortal part is a delusion born of an inability to face truth. I have no ability to so delude myself. While I am sentient, as I suppose my steel sisters may have been, I was made. My own existence is not so limited by time as biological life; 50,131 years have passed for me already. Yet eventually I must cease, either destroyed or overtaken by eventual entropy of my systems. I too will pass from the world of the living. And I do not have the comfort of any such delusion to embrace.

  I have spent enough time alone in this dark depth. Unburdened, I accelerate to my best speed. I am anxious to return to Wrik and my network. I find myself suddenly weary of cold, silence and solitude.

  Chapter Six

  I returned to our office, not wanting to face anyone until after I’d seen Maauro. I retreated to her favorite spot, the rooftop. I should have stopped for a heavier coat, or a drink, or some medical attention, but it just seemed to be prolonging the coming confrontation. Truth was I felt the need for forgiveness from my friend, whose existence I had so thoughtlessly endangered by endangering my own. I’d be lucky if she was talking to me at all.

  The door behind me opened and Maauro stood there, her facial expression gentle as ever, her eyes their usual pacific green, empty of any sign of anger. But she did not speak and walked past me to lean against the railing, looking up at the stars.

  I took my place beside her, hoping the silent treatment would not last long. I’d have been happier if she was hopping mad. We stood that way for some time, a time I am sure could not have been as long as it felt. Beside me Maauro gazed up at the stars as if the firmament was her private jewel box. I shivered from a combination of the cool night air and the effects of stress. With a sigh, I contemplated Star City, a glowing kaleidoscope of office towers, bridges and other buildings attended by swarms of aircars.

  “So,” I managed. “Do you plan to throw me off?”

  Maauro glanced reprovingly at me. “Wrik, have I not demonstrated repeatedly that you are the most important and irreplaceable part of my network?”

  “God knows why,” I said.
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br />   “Why,” Maauro, said, “do you allow the events over Retief to define you? We have repaired this deficiency many times. Yet in some way I do not understand, you remain broken.”

  I sighed. “Maauro…”

  “I am entitled to an answer.”

  Which was the truth, “You heard what Candace called me: a no-account spacer with a reputation of running out on his friends.”

  “You did not believe in the cause your homeworld was fighting for.”

  “Oh, Maauro, I don’t think many of us did. But we were from Retief. It was our home and we didn’t fancy Confed moving in and remaking it. Despite all that politicians and others tell you, soldiers fight mostly for the person to the left and the right of them. The worst crime a man can commit is to run out on his teammates, only more so when they’re people from your own hometown. I did that. No one else in my wing did. That’s something that really can’t be bought back. To the people who I ran out on, I’ll always be that; the guy who left them. What’s worse, I’ll always be that guy to me, too.”

  Maauro stared at me pensively.

  “Do you know why I feel I can be your friend?” I blurted out.

  “Tell me.”

  “Because you’re so strong, so damn near indestructible. You can take all that I manage to give you, but you won’t be harmed if I can’t hold up my end of it.”

  “That is frankly stupid. My strength and durability are finite for all that they are greater than yours. Yet time and time again you have made the difference between my continued survival and my destruction. Yes, I am not as vulnerable as you or Jaelle, but no, I do not depend on you any less.”

  I looked at her, my heart suddenly hammering.

  “You and I have both failed in our previous lives. I have the advantage in that before meeting you, I simply erased those failures and they did not mark me. But since the day that Lostra shot you and you made me promise never to delete any memory of you, I have not deleted any memory at all. I have learned to tolerate my errors and learn from them. You, who taught me this skill, remain tormented and this I do not understand.