“Swear you’ll be back,” he said, suddenly, the eyes suddenly bright and alert.
“I do, but it ain’t going to be early.”
He waved again. “Lightweight. Good night.”
I stepped off the porch and out of the pool of light from the porch lamp. Bugs chirred in my ears, but these hadn’t evolved to bite humans, and they were merely a buzzing sound. The stars were brilliant over my head, and only the smallest moon, Mogo, was visible. I looked around at the parked aircraft and the silent and mostly dark hangers and machine shops. Beyond to the left, I could see the lights of the town and some vehicles moved, both on the ground and air. Even this backwater didn’t entirely roll up with the sunset. I sighed and looked at the grasslands beyond that seemed to stretch out endlessly, broken only by some low hills and copses of trees.
As I slid into the small, blue coupe, I spotted something silhouetted against the descending Mogo. For a moment, my heart was in my mouth. I could’ve sworn I’d spotted a slender silhouette with long hair. I rubbed my hands over my eyes, but the image was gone. Wishful thinking about the person I wanted to see most.
I looked up at the stars, wondering which one Star Central orbited and if Maauro was looking up, thinking about me. Now that I was on Retief, I wondered if I had made a terrible mistake leaving the people closest to me in the present, to search for a way to repair my past.
“I think,” I said to the night sky, “that I have screwed up again.”
I slipped into the car and set the autopilot, I’d drunk more than I should have and let the automatics drive me back to the Trekker. Delt would have been happy to have put me up, but well as our reunion had gone, I wanted some time and distance to think. The aircar rolled smoothly back to my hotel. I quietly made my way upstairs in the main building. Then I stripped out of my clothes, dropping them on the floor and fell face down on the bed.
Chapter 7
We land without fanfare in the section of the port reserved for small trading ships. Our disguise as a free-trader works perfectly. As we carry no passengers, no one comes out to greet us, nor does it surprise anyone that we do not immediately scramble out, for all that I am impatient to go. I detail all matters dealing with port filings and shutdown to Dusko. Unlike Wrik, I will not use our military pass unless I must. Lilith may be on world and her hacking skills are not to be underestimated. I am disturbed to find a record in a subroutine at the Confed base that Wrik used his pass. Still, it may be for the best. He doubtless avoided media attention that way. Any press would have alerted Lilith instantly. The database I found my information in was a buried one, backing up a supply voucher system. Lilith may not have registered it, assuming she is indeed here.
I consider my next moves. Despite my hacking, I have not yet located my errant partner on this world’s crude and disjointed net. I will need to physically search for him. I prepare for an extended period away from the ship.
“What are you planning?” Dusko asks as he leans into the bridge.
“I have infiltrated all those databases that I can without risk of causing alarm,” I reply. “There is dearth of information in public records on Wrik or his family. I must risk intruding in taxation and other governmental records despite their more powerful barriers. It will take time, perhaps days to unlock those without triggering alarms. I could use my Confederation all pass, but if Lilith is on world and in the net, the use of such a pass would set off ripples that would alert her.”
He raises an eyebrow. “When did you do all this?”
“While we were en route, I finished as you were locking down the drive.”
He shakes his head ruefully. “Even now, I remain surprised by your abilities.”
“It is merely a matter of segmenting my brain to different tasks.”
“And totally invisible to us who are in your presence.”
“It does not take that much of my processing power to handle ordinary interactions with biologicals. Until, that is, you do something complex and emotional, and then sometimes it takes all the concentration I can muster.”
“Mostly with Wrik.”
“Mostly, though not exclusively.”
“So what now?”
“While my intruder software continues its work, I might as well physically explore those venues Wrik would visit. I should shortly locate his family members, and those survivors of the Ncome Commando.”
“You may wish to consider other clothes,” Dusko says.
I look down at my paneled orange and gray jumpsuit. “What is wrong with my appearance?”
“Have you seen anyone else in a jumpsuit?” he gestures at the city outside the viewport.
I access the ship’s sensors and what passes for an entertainment net on this world A few seconds survey tells me that only spaceport service personnel dress this way. I will stick out like a neon sign when I leave the environs of the port.
“What do you recommend?” I ask.
“Me? I’m Dua and male. Why would I know about female clothes for young humans? Go into town, find a store and have a shop girl fix you up. Or can’t you scan a store database and just retexturize yourself?”
“I have scanned the database on the commercial nets while we were speaking,” I reply. “I can texturize my outer casing, but I have noticed that fashion and color sense are so variable, that if I am to effectively blend in, the fashion advice of a local female may prove most effective.”
“Besides,” he replies. “You want to look nice for Wrik.”
“You wouldn’t be making fun of me?” I ask.
He raises his eyebrows. “Me? Gods no, that would lessen my already poor odds of surviving to retirement.”
“I concur.”
“Have fun at the mall,” he adds.
I secure the drive. “You may follow your own pursuits after you dispose of the cargo,” I add. Then, repenting some of my earlier annoyance with him, “You are free to spend the profits in any manner that suits you after reprovisioning the ship.”
Again the eyebrows go up. “Very generous, thank you.”
“Be ready should I call for you at any time with the ship’s flitter and my armaments. I do not wish to use my military pass to get them onworld now, but will arrange for the ship’s flitter to be cleared for planetary access should I need you.”
I leave Dusko to deal with customs and tax matters and head quickly into town. My passport shows me a human mutation, named Aurelia Toyama, an identity I used on Stauver, so I quickly pass through the minimal security into the capital city beyond. It takes a few minutes for a cab with a human driver to deliver me to a store named, Immaculota. I leave my intruder software and the segmented part of my brain to continue scanning for signs of Wrik, or Lilith. Clothes shopping will at least fill the time until some clue is discovered.
Once at the Immaculota, a modern two-story building, with glass windows full of holographic females, in what I hope are fashionable clothes. I seek out a clerk who is similar in age and build to me. She shows me a variety of garments.
“I really need you to pick,” I advise. “As you can see from my eyes, I’m a mutation. I don’t see colors as standard humans do.”
“Sure,” the girl says, with an enthusiasm I suspect is born of a commission-based salary. “Colors will be easy, with such perfect pale skin and so much black hair, you can wear just about anything. Especially with your figure…” she continues with a mix of pleasantries and local news as she selects ten full outfits for me. None of the news concerns Wrik’s return. He is habitually secretive, and I am relieved by this. Perhaps Lilith has not learned of his arrival if she is indeed here.
Satisfied with the purchases, I have them sent to the ship. In the dressing room, I revert from my jumpsuit texture to a nude texture, then place on my own favorite of the outfits she selected for me, It is a blue and white dress with shoes that make me glad I am incapabl
e of physical discomfort, and a light jacket.
“I will wear these out,” I say. I hope it does not occur to her to ask where my jumpsuit went. Dazed by the size of my purchase, it evidently does not cross her mind. Once I had decided on the patterns and colors, I actually do not need the clothes, I could retexturize my outer casing to simulate them, though generating a skirt light enough to be moved by a breeze would be tricky. Still, the young girl has been helpful. It pleases me to see how happy my purchase made her and the approving look she receives from the manager.
Once back in a cab, I quickly reconfigure my feet to look like the shoes. The thin material they were made from would not survive my weight for long. I leave them in the cab. Perhaps the driver has a daughter or a petite wife who will enjoy them.
I continue to scan every new database that my intruder software opens for me, hoping for a hint, some clue to orient my search for a needle in this planetary-sized haystack. Retief is a backwater of a colony. Most of the databases are crude and limited. Life outside the capital goes off the planetary grid, in a series of autistic systems that may or may not communicate on a regular basis. It is an appalling and haphazard arrangement.
One of my subroutines flags me. Wrik rented a vehicle and withdrew considerable sums of cash from the spaceport exchange. This is making him hard to track, but I quickly correlate that these assets would allow him to journey to his old home, well out in the hinterlands of Retief. I assume he would look up his mother and father first, then perhaps his sister, then squadron mates. Approaching his family would be the most awkward and perhaps unwelcome. I plan to reconnoiter the family farm before making contact.
Then a final entry in a small commercial database redirects me. I find a payment by Wrik, under the name, Mazza Fornite, ironically a false identity he also used on Stauver, for a small amount of alcoholic beverages. The location is well away from the farm, and the payment was made yesterday. Further correlation reveals another nexus, an aircraft maintenance business called Taljard Aviation. This is the name of Wrik’s former Wing Commander and childhood friend, one of the few survivors of the Ncome Commando massacred over the capitol when the Confed Navy moved in. I now have a destination.
“Please take me back to the spaceport,” I advise the driver. “I need to rent a flitter.”
“Yes, Miss,” he says.
A short time later, I am speeding northward out of the spaceport toward the high grasslands in a late-model flitter with a military grade engine. I had to leave most of my weapons behind or risk using the all pass. I can always have Dusko bring the heavy weapons using the ship’s cargo flitter if I need them. As yet I have not detected any indication of Lilith, but I suspect she would be in the highlands and away from the population centers, just where I am heading. Hours later, I pass a small town named Idutywa. Delt Taljard has a business outside of town, at a small airfield. I land the flitter outside the fence after circling the field searching for either Wrik, or any sign of Lilith. I see nothing indicating either is present.
I quickly make my way to the main building of the airfield, avoiding as much as I can muddy ground from a recent rainfall. A number of humans and a Morok are busy conversing over a yellow-and-black, checkered air transport. Two of the men pause to look me over and smile, then return to their repairs. The Morok ignores me, or does not notice my presence. I walk past them to what appears to be an office. A tall, solidly-built human male of about thirty is standing there in a blue overall, scanning a tablet. He has a shock of blond hair over a handsome, if weather-beaten face. His shoulders and arms are filled out with muscle. He looks up as I approach and puts the tablet aside.
“Good morning,” he says with a bright grin. “I’m Delt Teljard. How can I help such a pretty young lady this morning?”
“My name is Maauro,” I reply, looking up at his friendly countenance. “I am an associate of Wrik Trigardt, who you may know as—”
“I know Piet,” he says, his face is now wary.
“I need to see Wrik.”
He studies me. “Well, this is just like Piet, holding out on me. He hasn’t told me much about his life before he came back. Certainly he didn’t warn me about a pretty girl with huge green eyes looking for him.”
“I commend your caution,” I said, fighting impatience. “Wrik is very important to me, and I must see him.”
I hear a scuff of a boot, and Wrik rounds the corner and stops in surprise. Delt looks at us both, unsure of what to do.
And we are suddenly running toward each other. I must stop abruptly and carefully, less my greater mass knock him flying, but he is safely in my arms a second later. I find myself battling a mélange of emotions: relief, happiness, anger. We remain locked together, my face against his chest, his chin resting on my head. For some seconds, neither of us is quite capable of speech. From a reflection nearby I see Delt grin again and move off, gesturing to the others to silently follow him.
When I can speak I say. “This once and only this once, I will forgive you for leaving me behind. Never do such a thing again.”
He draws a shaky breath. “So sworn. Never again. God, I am glad to see you.”
I step back, throttling down the anger that wants to assert itself now that I see him alive and unharmed. I notice that he has a large and darkening bruise on his jaw. “Than why this voyage without me? Why didn’t you want me with you?”
He strokes my face in mute apology, then finally. “I am not sure it fits into words well. But I was coming back to face something I was ashamed of. I wasn’t sure that I could if you were with me. I don’t know how to be Wrik Trigardt and Piet Van Zyle at the same time. And, well, there are times that a man has to take what is coming to him.”
“Since you seem to feel the need for this atonement, I would allow such, within reason.”
He raises an eyebrow. “You have been known to render large areas uninhabitable when you feel things have progressed beyond reason.”
“You exaggerate. I rarely render the actual areas uninhabitable, just uninhabited.”
“Ah,” he says, “an important distinction. But most of all, I felt I had to face my father and my wing commander on my own. I’ve done that and it was as bad as I expected with my father and easier with Delt.”
“That is good to hear.”
He looks down at me. “I am so glad you’re here. It was wrong to leave you behind. I can see that now.”
“As I have said, I will forgive it this once.”
He studies me with a perplexed look. “Are you taller?”
I find myself pleased that he has noticed. “There was sufficient material left over from my new arm to increase my size. I risked some slight alterations to my basic default matrix so that I look a little older.”
“You do and as beautiful as always. Is the new arm ok?”
“It functions as well as my factory original. In some ways better, I have added some refinements that eluded my original design engineers. I have after all had this body for over 50,000 years.”
“And you don’t look a day over 40, 000,” he replies.
“You are fortunate that I find it difficult to remain cross with you.” I say, raising an eyebrow. My attempt at mock severity merely provokes laughter from him.
“Yes, I suppose I am.” He runs his hands down both my arms as if testing to see they match in warmth and malleability. I find his exploring of my body sets off a number of odd sensations that I am unable to readily analyze, and that this leaves me very slightly disoriented. Yet an instant system check shows I am functioning normally. I segment part of my consciousness to analyze this further. I also find it somewhat disturbing that I am disappointed when he stops.
“How did the others take it?” he asks,
“Dusko thinks you are foolish. He is in the offport up to his usual entertainments, one supposes.”
“Well, there are many that would agree
with him. Still, I have to be grateful to the old thief for finding enough rare materials to restore you.”
“Jaelle,” I continue, then hesitate.
“Go ahead,” he prompts. “Let’s get it over with.”
“She made much of the fact that your letter was to me and not her. She said to tell you that she remains your friend and legal consort—”
“But that is all,” he finishes for me.
I nod.
“I can’t blame her for that. I didn’t handle any of it very well and the breakup worst of all. I’m glad we’re still friends.”
“You knew that she would not come after you.”
“Yes.”
“Did you know that I would?”
He smiles a sad smile. “Yeah, I pretty much did. That sort of says it all, doesn’t it? I’m just amazed you made it here so quickly. Guess the Cosmic Dust wasn’t much of a match for the Stardust with you at the controls.”
I only smile back. The question has many unspoken parts to it, and I am not sure I understand all of what he is saying. My answer seems to suffice as he runs his hands through my hair. Again the sensation vibrates over my systems.
“What now?” I ask, trying to regain focus.
“Well for now, I guess it’s time to properly introduce you to Delt. He’s a bit of a larger-than-life character, so don’t over-react to him.”
We turn to walk on as I ponder this statement, with its implied warning. Wrik’s right arm is across my shoulder. My new left one is around his waist. This is different for us as I never used to touch him with my left. The Infestor arm had insufficient feedback for such use and felt like cold hard metal, however it looked. Now I am again fully whole and integrated as I have not been since the ambush on Kandalor that maimed me. I feel, strangely exhilarated to be so. I am proud of my new arm, and my being again a perfect example of the M-7 series.
We walk out together. The staff is nowhere to be seen, so I assume they are in the buildings, but Delt is atop a two-wheeled vehicle. He twists the controls, and the vehicle emits a load roar, then he hurtles toward us. I casually analyze if this is an attack, there is an abundance of seconds to consider whether to neutralize the threat. Given that Wrik’s body only minimally tenses at the sound and display, I chalk the mock charge up to this ‘larger-than-life quality’ Wrik ascribed to Delt. So I do not neutralize the approaching vehicle, for all that I am displeased by its speed and proximity to us. As a hedge against miscalculation I slide between Wrik and the motorcycle as it screeches to a halt.
All the Difference Page 5