by J. S. Morin
“Think she’ll be all right?” Esper asked to no one in particular as the hover-cruiser zipped through the security checkpoint. They were cleared as soon as they were rid of the unauthorized azrin.
“Nothing to worry about,” Roddy replied. “Just life on an occupied world.”
Esper found it odd that no one gave a second look to the laaku as they headed for Humantown. Laaku were nearly human, and azrin were not.
# # #
Mriy sulked in the back of the shuttle. Her fur bristled in embarrassment, and she was glad that her crewmates were largely oblivious to those sorts of azrin subtleties. This was her world, not theirs. Yet because their ancestors had develops starships and plasma rifles and energy shields before her own, she was the one barred from certain areas of her home world.
The temptation to look down at Rikk Pa from the air nagged at her. The view from the Mobius on approach had been all too brief, and she didn’t have a good vantage from her quarters. But the shuttle had a camera in the passenger compartment, watching her. She didn’t want to look like a homesick reverse tourist, drooling at the evergreens and smoke-puffing chimneys through dingy transparent titanium. It was a matter of personal dignity, something that was all too hard to come by in the custody of the occupation force.
Had she been gone so long? Three years was a solid bite of her adult life, and she had grown used to human company. She understood their main language. How had she forgotten the feeling of being on the wrong side of the wall? How could a weakling race cordon off a tiny portion of Meyang, and yet make it feel like the azrin were the ones trapped? Smug tourists on her world, venturing into the azrin cities and building shops, hospitals, factories—as if they were some great force of civilization. Carl wasn’t so bad. Tanny was nearly azrin, in some ways. Even Esper was more like a kitten than the invaders she had grown up around.
The pilot of the shuttle could mate with cows for all she cared. Mriy looked. Spread out below were water and mountains, with snow-dusted valleys in between. It should have come as no surprise, but she smiled at the realization that she knew the names of these places. Kinna Peak, gray and imposing. The Godswash, flat as a mirror, reflecting the clouds above. Here and there, little clusters of homes and businesses—a dozen here, a hundred there—with forest and roads stitching them together to form Rikk Pa.
“Down in two,” the pilot’s voice buzzed over the comm. He was just three meters away, but on the other side of a safety-grade wall of composite steel and transparent titanium. She’d be rid of him in two minutes, plus however long the departure sequence took.
Public terminals were a good deal shabbier than the landing site for ARGO-registered transports. Asphalt tarmac instead of evercrete. No security fence. Just a lone navigation control tower and ground tram service up and down the rows of mismatched ships. In fairness, the Mobius would have fit better here than among the up-to-spec vessels in the high-security zone, but registry was everything. As for Mriy herself, she was of Meyang origin; her registry said this was where she belonged, locked out of the safe zone for humans.
As she hopped down to ground level, Mriy wished she had taken some personal effects. This had only been intended as a drop-off followed by a quick return, but Rikk Pa tugged at her. She might not be welcome, but she was in no hurry to leave, either. Returning to the Mobius no longer promised to be such a quick trip. Carl was likely going to have to come back and pick her up outside the security zone when it was time to leave.
If she was going to leave.
It wasn’t a foregone conclusion that she was going to survive her homecoming. Bad blood among humans might run cold under the watchful stare of the law. But here she was under no such protection. There were several azrin who were well within their legal rights to kill her, including Hrykii, once he was thawed.
But none of that was worth dwelling on. It would happen, or it would not. She couldn’t very well show up to the family compound without her nephew, which meant meeting up with the rest of the crew. Tanny’s tactical brief before they arrived had included Mriy selecting a rally point in case they became separated. This wasn’t the circumstance Mriy had envisioned when planning things out, but then again, that’s what Tanny’s contingencies were for—dealing with the unforeseen.
Following signs written both in Jiara and English, Mriy made her way to the ground transport station. A brown-furred attendant greeted her.
“Where will you be when you arrive?” he asked. He had an odd accent and manner of speech. He was Ruuthian, a long way from his home on the far side of Meyang.
“Nowhere far,” she replied. “There’s a cluster of off-worlder restaurants by Humantown. How much?”
“Eight dreka,” the attendant said.
Mriy dug in her pockets for local currency. It had been a long time since she’d bothered carrying drekas. Filtering through a pile of cubic metal blocks, she found a two-by-two-by-two and passed it across the counter. The attendant picked up the coin, looked it over, and tossed it into a jar with a clink. A digital display read 008 momentarily, before going blank.
“Bay Three,” the attendant told her.
The vehicle that awaited her was an old model Capchak dirt-roller. Its metal tracks were rusted and pitted, but otherwise looking sound. It didn’t matter much how badly it ran. If a dirt-roller broke down, the riders could just walk away. It wasn’t like a starship, or even a hover-cruiser in that regard. The engine growled like a warrior’s challenge, and the driver popped out of the forward hatch to wave. “Climb on. Ziyek called ahead. Ready to roll when you’re up.”
The driver was all black, with three links of chain dangling from one ear. His fur bushed out at the neck, making him look stronger than he probably was. But right now, Mriy found her chest heaving. It had been a long time with no male companionship—non-azrin hardly counted. The driver obviously had no idea who she was; he was probably barely grown when she’d left. If they had known one another before, both had changed in the intervening years. It was possible… no, as soon as he discovered who she was, it would end badly.
Slowing her breathing with a human concentration technique, Mriy hauled herself over the side railing of the dirt-roller. “Roll when you wish,” she shouted. The wind of speed and weather combined to cut through her vest and fur, straight to the bones. The dirt-rolled gouged its way across Rikk Pa’s landscape, and Mriy’s body let loose the heat of anxiety, anger, and starship environmental furnaces into the Meyang atmosphere. Throwing back her head, she let out a roar. Whatever lay ahead for her, at that moment, she felt more alive than she had in years.
# # #
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Esper said as they reached the rendezvous point.
Carl chuckled. “You’ve got to get planetside more often.”
The location Mriy had chosen was just outside Humantown, in an area where human-curious azrin congregated. The restaurant where they would wait for her was called Human Joe’s Cow Ranch. It featured an actual ranch out back, with doomed bovines milling around and a gaudy holovid of an azrin in a cowboy outfit playing on loop over the roof.
Esper ended up at the front of the group and pushed her way through the saloon doors. “I’m just going to take a wild swing and say that azrin’s name isn’t really Joe,” she said, raising her voice over the piped-in frontier music. The inside of the eatery was just as overblown and tacky. Giant cow and bull heads adorned the wall, mounted like hunting prizes in old-Earth fashion. The tables and booths surrounded a dirt-floor arena, where a robotic bull stood idle. “What’s going on down there?”
“Looks like we’re about to find out,” Tanny said. There was a queue of azrin at the entrance to the arena, and the attendant opened the gate to allow a lone azrin through.
“Can I seat you, partners?” a white-furred azrin asked. His accent was a distinct attempt at an old-Earthish dialect consistent with the décor. With his cowboy hat, holstered six-shooters, and spurred boots, he didn’t look much like a restaurant host. Th
e stack of menus he carried said otherwise.
“We’re meeting someone,” Carl replied. Having spent time around Mriy, Esper picked up on the subtle shift in the host’s ears, signaling annoyance. The polite smile never left his face though—probably part of his training for dealing with human customers.
“Got a bar?” Roddy asked.
Whether it was an intentional effort on Roddy’s part to appease the host, or—more likely—simply a desire for a beer or five, the host perked up. “Of course, sir. Follow me.”
The bar was packed, and despite a preponderance of azrin customers elsewhere in the restaurant, most of the barflies were human. Drinking for the sake of it was a cultural export that just hadn’t caught on, at least on Meyang. Roddy pushed his way close enough to get the barkeep’s attention and bought a round for the crew.
Down in the arena, a tan-furred azrin was stripping off his vest and approaching the robotic bull. A loudspeaker blared overhead. “Next contestant, Uajiss Finnu.” It was hard to get a sense of scale with nothing near the lone azrin besides the bull. The would-be bullfighter was heavyset, with a swaggering walk that suggested confidence. He raised his arms and spread his fingers with claws extended—not that those thirty-millimeter blades would help against his robotic opponent.
A horn sounded and the bull charged. Esper had never seen a live bull up close, but this false one acted enough like a living creature that she was willing to give it the benefit of the doubt as a plausible reproduction. It shook its shoulders and thrashed its head as it bore down on its azrin challenger. The bullfighter sank into a ready crouch, an easy posture for the feline legs of an azrin. With whisker-thin timing, the challenger dodged aside as the bull careened past, angling stainless steel horns to gore.
Esper gasped along with a good portion of the human crowd. The azrin spectators hissed or looked on in silence. “What would happen if he didn’t get out of the way?”
Tanny shrugged. “They got medics around here somewhere.”
The bull pulled up and twisted around, aiming itself once more in the azrin’s direction. With less room to build a head of steam, the robot came in slower, though exhibiting no less ferocity. This time when the azrin dodged aside, he grabbed one of the horns and held on. The bull flung its head back and forth, seemingly unsure whether to shake loose its opponent or try to impale him on the held horn. Despite the erratic movements, the bullfighter managed to catch hold of the other horn as well, holding the bull as if it were a bicycle or an anti-grav sled.
“Boo,” Roddy muttered, slipping onto a seat at the bar while one of the patrons was distracted. “This guy’s a pro. I was hoping we’d see some idiot get himself skewered.”
Down in the arena, the robot and azrin wrestled for leverage. The bull pushed; the azrin put his feet back to maintain balance as he skidded along the dirt. The bull tossed his head; the bullfighter stretched long arms and legs to keep both his footing and his grip. The crowd cheered—a mix of human hoots and azrin yowls. Uajiss Finnu was putting on a show. Through remarkable programming, the robotic bull appeared to grow frustrated. It snapped its head from side to side, unable to shake its prey-turned-tormentor. On one pass, the bullfighter shifted his weight, overbalancing the robotic beast to one side. Hanging from the horns, he swung under the bull, kicking out one of the robot’s legs with both of his and toppling the machine to the dirt.
The crowd’s cheering reached a crescendo. Esper let out a sigh. “At least he didn’t get hurt.”
“Cut his arm,” Tanny replied. The azrin stood atop the now inert beast. There was no thrashing, now that the program had run its course. Against the tan fur, there was a matted smear of red on one upraised arm. “Doubt he cares though.”
Esper gave Tanny a narrow-eyed glare. “You’re not thinking of—”
“Hell no,” Tanny replied. “I don’t think I’ve got the mass for it. And I certainly don’t have anything to prove to this lot.”
“I saw a sign at the entrance,” Esper said. “There’s prize money. Works out to about 7800 in terras.”
Carl’s eyes widened. “You know, Mort…”
“The answer is ‘no,’” Mort replied before Carl could even get the question out. “I could reduce that bull to a flopping sack of loose parts, but I don’t think anyone would believe I hadn’t cheated. For Chrissakes, just look at me. Now look at the fella with his furry arms up in the air. Which of us looks like a likely candidate to flip robo-cattle on their asses?”
“Bet we’d get good odds,” Carl replied.
“And get ourselves arrested. It’s not even subtle,” Esper said. She lowered her voice and tried to spice it with an angry edge. “And I’d thank you to keep those larcenous thoughts bottled up when we’re out in public.”
“Where’s Mriy anyway?” Carl wondered aloud. “Shouldn’t be taking her this long to cut across town. Where the hell’d those patrol twits ditch her? Off-world?”
Carl’s answer came in the quieting of the crowd. There were places where the buzz of voices ebbs and flows to the point where an occasional quiet moment might have gone unnoticed. Human Joe’s wasn’t one of those. Curious eyes turned toward the entrance, where a lone azrin entered. White furred except for a few spots of orange, she stood tall and towered over most of the azrin around her. Esper hadn’t realized that Mriy was so large a specimen among her own kind.
Mriy scanned the crowd until her eyes fell on the Mobius crew, then she headed their way. The crowd parted for her as whispers spread around the eatery. One brown-furred azrin stepped into her path, but a twitch of Mriy’s lip to show fangs was enough to move him out of her way. Esper could only surmise the azrin’s gender, of course. Accustomed to primate anatomy, she was largely ignorant of the clues to tell azrin sexes apart.
“Quite an entrance,” Carl remarked as Mriy joined the group.
Mriy kept her voice low. “I hadn’t expected to be recognized so quickly or easily. Can we get out of here?”
“Looks like you can clear us a path,” Carl said. “Lead on.”
Esper fell into step near the rear of an impromptu parade to the exit. Only Roddy came after her, carrying one of Human Joe’s mugs as long as he could to drain its contents. It seemed as if the restaurant had paused while Mriy was inside. Whether it started up once more upon their departure, Esper could only speculate.
No one questioned Mriy when she took the controls of the hover-cruiser. This was her world, after all.
# # #
Dusk had settled over Rikk Pa by the time they arrived at the Yrris Clanhold. Mriy had hardly said a word on the trip, answering brief queries about the landscape and their destination with even briefer replies. Human Joe’s had put her on edge. A whole restaurant full of people all knew she was back. Whether a few keen observers had spread word like an avalanche or every person on Meyang recognized her on sight, the effect was the same. Word would reach her family before Mriy did.
From the outside, the clanhold appeared unchanged since her youth. Evergreens along the winding road hid the compound from view until they were almost upon it. A dozen squat, conical buildings poked through the snow that coated the mountain lowlands, chimneys belching woodsmoke into the evening sky. It had been springtime when she’d last seen it; the herd grass was green and soft on bare feet. It should have changed more since then. There should have been a new house built, or one of the old ones burnt down. Even a few darkened buildings with no fires burning would have shown that the Yrris Clan had fallen on hard times without her.
“Looks cozy,” Carl said, his words coming out accompanied by puffs of fog. He huddled in his jacket with his arms hugged close. “We gonna just look at it all night?”
Mriy bit back a snarl. It was no good arguing with Carl when he was wrong, let alone when he was in the right. She hit the accelerator and started the hover-cruiser toward the hearth hub, center-most building in the clanhold. The cheerful, inviting, mocking, spiteful lights from the windows grew closer.
Floodligh
ts snapped on, blindingly bright, forcing Mriy to slow the hover-cruiser. Engine hums came from left and right, approaching and surrounding them. Snow-rollers revved their engines as they encircled the Mobius crew and Mriy was forced to either stop or risk hitting someone. She might have been able to put enough air under the craft to jump it over the snow-rollers, but that was a trick better suited to Carl’s skill set, not her own.
“Heard you were back, Mriy,” a voice shouted over the growls of combustion engines. “You’re going to regret it.”
“I came to bring back Hrykii,” Mriy replied in the direction of the speaker. “You defend the clan now, Yariy?”
“Of course it fell to me,” Yariy replied. “Who else? Soora? You?”
“Graida,” Mriy answered.
“Dead.”
“Seris?”
“Offworld, earning for the clan,” Yariy said. “You said you had Hrykii. All I see are humans with you.”
Mriy elbowed Roddy to keep him quiet. The last thing they needed was his surly tongue. She pointed to the back of the hover-cruiser. “In the tube. We rescued him from a bounty hunter. He is too badly injured for us to wake from stasis with no doctor. We brought him straight here.”
A single snow-roller revved its engine, and Yariy pulled alongside the hover-cruiser. Standing on her vehicle’s seat, she looked at their cargo and ran a hand along the smooth surface. “Get him inside. We’ll see about you when we get the tale from him.”
“But I thought—” Mriy said.
“You thought wrong,” Yariy replied. “Seerii speaks here. I serve. You have no standing. We’ll find you if Hrykii thinks you’ve earned a voice.”
Mriy fumed in the night air. She would not have been surprised if the snow melted under her glare. Yariy had been a child when she left, and now gave orders like a guardian. For once the Mobius crew kept a respectful silence. She had dragged them into this, but they had no stake in Yrris clan matters. Two younger cousins hefted Hrykii’s stasis pod between them and loaded it onto a snow-roller driven by someone Mriy had never met. The latter might have mated into the clan recently, or may have been a hired claw for all she knew.