by B. V. Larson
“Uh… no, that wasn’t what I meant—”
“Of course I miss her. I lost my job, she lost interest. My tail is broken…”
“Ah, jeez. I’m sorry about that, Raash.”
“Leave. Your every word is an insult.”
“No, no, I mean it. Tell me, what if I could get you out of here, back to Earth?”
Raash gave me a strange look. “You are a primate in a tree. What are you chattering about?”
“Well… look, I’ll give you a piece of friendly advice: don’t go up against Earth with this legion of lizards. You guys are going to lose. It’s a foregone conclusion. You’ll probably get yourself permed, in fact.”
Raash’s head had been tilting to the right, and now it tilted farther. “I understand now. I’ve been tricked. You are not with Armel. You are a committed enemy.”
“What?” I laughed nervously, “that’s just plain crazy-talk. Listen, I’ve got to be going to see Armel now. It’s been real nice talking to you, Raash.”
Raash kept giving me that strange look. The lizard he’d been reviving was still coughing and gargling spit on the delivery table. He was a few minutes away from being aware enough to identify me, so I figured it was time make tracks.
“Human,” Raash said. “I do wish to go back to Floramel. Show me how this might be done.”
I froze, and he took a step forward, then another.
Raash was a big boy, you have to understand. He was bigger and stronger than I was, but nowhere near as quick. Still, if he got in close…
He pointed over his shoulder then. He pointed at the revival machine. “Look, human! You see the name in red on the list?”
I did, and I froze for a second. The queue said Tribune Maurice Armel—and the print was in bright red.
I began to take a step back, but Raash reached out, making a lunging grab. His move was a clumsy one, but I was distracted, and he managed to clamp one big claw onto my right wrist.
He was in too close for me to use the rifle on him, and I didn’t have a knife or anything. I slammed at his powerful grip, but I couldn’t break it.
Being a trained man, I went a little wild. I tried to throw him, to stab my fingers into his eyes and nostrils, but he didn’t let go. He did a lot of hissing, but he didn’t let go.
“McGill…” he said. “You permed Armel, didn’t you? Was that your plan? To perm me as well? You are a foul assassin.”
“No, Raash. I didn’t want to harm you. Really, you should let me go. Otherwise, things are going to go badly for you in about three seconds.”
Raash did some of that hissing-laughing thing he did sometimes. “Piss yourself in fear, human. I have no fear of death. No pain or discomfort affects me. Only embarrassment can harm the mind of a saurian.”
“Is that so?”
We were grappling, and I was losing. He was trying to pin my other wrist, and I knew I couldn’t let him.
Worse, on the table behind him, I saw the second saurian guard struggling to stand. Soon, it would be two against one.
With no choice left, I reached into my jacket and pressed a button, activating the teleport harness.
-10-
The way home was awful. When you port with someone else, and they’re outside the protective field, it always goes one of two ways.
Sometimes, the trip is a short one. In that case, the person clinging to you as you fall through interdimensional space kind of spazzes and clutches at your body—but that’s it. A few seconds later you arrive, and all is well.
This wasn’t one of those times. This was one of the bad times—when the trip was long and dangerous.
In such cases, the hitchhiker is like a drowning man, grappling with you, hanging on for dear life. But they normally can’t survive. Outside the field, there is radiation, and mind-bending horrors. All the stuff you might imagine if you were to travel through space at speeds exceeding the possible.
Once, I’d given a squid a ride like this. When we’d reached our final destination, he was less than fried calamari—he was ash. Dust, burned away to curling soot stains.
But that was at the end of the trip—the inevitable finish. In the meantime, I had something like five hundred seconds of fun to endure.
Raash was confused at first. I couldn’t see him, or hear him, or sense him in any way other than vague touch—but that was enough to get some idea of what he was going through.
There was a tightening of his grip to start off with. He’d encircled me with those powerful arms. I could tell he was freaked out and maybe afraid—a wise emotion.
As the trip went on and on, surprise and confusion soon gave way to total panic. He tore at me ineffectually, as he was already weakening.
It was weird when people fought in hyperspace, or whatever you called this zone in between one place and the next. You were kind of ghostly, without the same physical properties. That was a good thing, because I figured old Raash might have torn my throat out with his teeth if he’d been able to. Fortunately, he couldn’t do that much, he couldn’t exert that much force. Instead, he felt kind of gauzy, kind of like he was wearing a foam rubber suit as he beat on me and tore at me weakly with his claws.
In the meantime, of course, we were both enjoying the usual unpleasant sensations of this kind of travel. You felt like you had to breathe, but you couldn’t, and it was torture. Raash became wild with fury and desperation.
After a while, his grip weakened, but I didn’t let him go. I clung to him until the last, feeling him die. I was thinking that maybe if his corpse made it to Central in fair condition, he might catch himself a stealthy revive.
It was not to be. When we arrived in the basement, I startled two bored hogs. They stood, drawing their weapons and cursing up a blue-streak.
“What’s the trouble, boys?” I said, looking at them for a moment.
Then, I chanced to look down. Their horrified expressions suddenly made sense.
Raash was a crispy mass of black ash and running grease. He’d kind of melted along with dying in agony.
“Oh…” I said, letting go of the body.
That was harder to do than it sounded. The corpse was wrapped around me, and I had to pry off the rubbery body and clingy fingers. There were still some bones in there, somewhere.
“Who are you, and what the hell is that?” the duty chief demanded.
I explained vaguely, identified myself, and was eventually released. I took the opportunity to snap off one of the best preserved finger-claw-things. I stuffed it in my pocket, and the hogs looked at me in disgust.
“Just a souvenir,” I explained with a jaunty smile.
“You Varus types are ghouls.”
I didn’t bother to respond. Instead, I exited the security station and headed up to the lobby. They’d ejected me in that direction, insisting that I get further clearances to go anywhere else inside Earth’s military headquarters.
Reaching the street level, I gazed around wistfully. It was a nice looking day… too nice.
Checking the date on my tapper, I cursed out loud. “It’s May? I’ve been dead and gone nearly two weeks… shit.”
Heaving a deep breath, I headed for the doors. Hell, I’d been gone for weeks, so one more day wasn’t going to hurt. There were a number of decent places with good grub and better beer waiting just outside in town.
I didn’t even make it down the front marble steps outside Central, however, when my tapper began buzzing. I’d forgotten to wrap it up or anything.
Taking a glance down, I winced. It was Turov.
“Hello Tribune,” I said, answering the call in a cheery tone. I’d already decided not to blame anyone for leaving me in purgatory for so long. After all, I was the one who’d pretty much permed myself.
“James McGill…” she said. “Fancy seeing you back in town? What happened? Did your new girlfriend kick you out?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes. If you want to call Maurice Armel my girlfriend.”
That caught h
er attention. Her face shifted to amazement. “You’ve been out that far?”
I began to explain, but soon she didn’t want to hear anymore.
“Stop talking. Tapper calls can be traced and decoded. We must meet somewhere.”
“I know just the place. Best fajitas in town.”
Eventually, I convinced her to join me at a quiet restaurant in the metro district. She slid into the seat opposite me and watched as I worked on my third overstuffed tortilla.
“Stop stuffing yourself and talk to me, James. What happened out there? I sent you to the docks, and the very first day you vanished. I suspected Dross of doing it herself. I could hardly blame her… but it usually takes longer than a few hours for you to work people into a murderous rage.”
“Usually,” I agreed. Then I gave her the whole story—but I left out the part about Raash. Instead, I focused on Armel and his request to return to Earth.
“Sounds like a trick. How can we trust him?”
I shrugged. “Revive him, talk to him, and make your own decisions. I’ve got his body scans and his engrams in my tapper.”
“Right. Hmm… I don’t like it, but I guess we’ll have to do it. An invasion of random losers from Green World? It sounds absurd on the face of it—but okay, give me the data.”
She held out her wrist for me to touch with mine. I clasped her hand instead.
“What’s this?”
“Uh… I was wondering if you wanted to make a night of it. After all, I solved the case at the docks, and I discovered a plot against Earth. That’s pretty good for a half-day’s work, isn’t it?”
She frowned, but she didn’t snatch her hand away. That was a good sign. She let me hold onto her gently.
“I don’t know… you were gone so long. I thought you were permed.”
“I just about was,” I admitted.
“What about that bitch of yours, Helsa?”
“Who…? Oh yeah, the fuzzy-eared cat-girl. I don’t know, I’ve kind of forgotten about her to tell you the truth.”
Naturally, this was a bald-faced lie. I figured Galina knew that, but a smile flickered on her face. She appreciated the effort.
“Order me something,” she said.
That was it. We ate, we drank, and we spent the rest of the dying afternoon together. We went back to her place in the suburbs after that, and things proceeded very nicely indeed.
About six hours into the night, I awoke with a start. Galina’s slim form stood nearby, pawing at something.
I flicked on the light, and she jumped.
“You’re pawing at my stuff?” I asked her.
“What is this, James?” she asked, confronting me with the burned-up finger. It was big and curved in her hand. It looked like a cooked banana.
“Uh… that’s a souvenir. Nothing special.”
“This is beyond disgusting. Is it from one of Armel’s reptilian henchmen?”
“Maybe.”
She dropped it in the trashcan and went to wash her hands. She made sure she lathered up quite a bit to get the greasy ash off.
After scooping up the finger and hiding it in my jacket once more, I followed her into the bathroom and washed up. I tried to get her interested in another round of fun, but she wasn’t in the mood anymore. She kicked me out of her place after that, and it wasn’t even light outside yet.
Rude.
-11-
Galina was feeling iffy about the idea of reviving Armel, so I knew there was no way come hell or high water she was going to help me revive Raash. Accordingly, I sought out the one person on Earth who might want to help: Floramel
It took quite an effort to get down to see her, as she was a tech director at Central. She’d started off as a tech smith slave, but after working countless projects diligently for a decade, she’d become a trusted member of the nerd teams that did all kinds of secret projects. As if that wasn’t enough, she was model-pretty, kind of weird, and not quite human. The fact that she and I had a questionable past together didn’t help at all, either.
“No, James. The answer is no, and it always will be no. Good night.”
“Whoa! Hold on, girl!” I said, trying to get her not to swipe my face off her tapper immediately. “This isn’t some kind of midnight booty-call.”
“No. It’s a predawn call. That’s novel, but it won’t work.”
“Floramel, let me just say one word.”
She sighed. “You’ve already said a hundred or so… but… what is this one word?”
“Raash.”
Her eyes flew wide. She had a thing going for Raash. It was freaky, and I didn’t want to even think about what they’d gotten up to, but there it was. Apparently, they’d had a falling out at some point—but she still had the spark. I could see it in her big baby blues.
“He’s alive?”
“I can’t say anymore online. Will you see me?”
“James, if this is some kind of trick—”
“No, no—really. I need to see you. We need to talk about it. He… he needs your help.”
“What do you care? You hate Raash.”
“Yeah, well… I might have done him wrong, you see.”
Her face shifted again, becoming instantly suspicious and accusatory. “Did you kill Raash? Again? You did, didn’t you? Damn you, James!”
“Aw, come on. It was a fair fight… mostly. Look, are you interested in this or not? Because I can just dump him right now.”
“You’ve got him? In your tapper?”
“Sort of… Can I come over and explain?”
She sighed again and rubbed her face with the back of her hand. “I know I’m going to regret this… but yes. You can come over.”
“You still live in that apartment in the gray zone?”
“Apartment…? What? Oh, no,” she laughed, and she gave me the address. It was in a surprisingly swanky part of town.
When the autocab dropped me off, I rang her buzzer. She didn’t answer right away, so I really leaned on it. Sometimes these buttons were broken, or—
“James? I’m right here.”
I turned to see Floramel. She was tall, with long hair and an even longer neck. Besides being pretty, she was as smart as any six physics professors. I smiled to see her again.
“You’re still looking great, girl.”
“Why wouldn’t I be? Oh… yes, I’m a few years older.”
“You don’t look a day over thirty.”
Her face clouded for a moment. She’d left the legions, and she hadn’t died since Etta had murdered her. That was years back, so she’d done a little aging. It was nothing to worry about, from my point of view—but then, I wasn’t a woman.
“Come in,” she said, and she opened the metal gate. I slid inside and followed her into her townhome.
It was pretty nice inside. Everything was new, and every component of the house was always talking to you. I hated that, but I pretended to be impressed.
Floramel got us both some coffee, and the dawn was pinking the horizon outside. I sat in the middle of her couch, and she sat opposite me looking kind of wary.
“Tell me the story,” she said.
“I don’t know if I should. It’s kind of top-secret, you know?”
She rolled her eyes. “I direct top secret projects you’ve never heard of, James. Just tell me.”
“Yeah… okay. I was out at Rigel, see, a few months back—”
“Out at Rigel? Are you kidding?”
I squirmed a little. “See? I told you there are things happening you don’t know about yet.”
“Okay, okay, just tell me. What was Raash doing at Rigel? How did he die?”
I looked uncomfortable, because I was. I didn’t really have an angle to play, here. I mean, if she didn’t want Raash to breathe again, it really wasn’t my call to make. I decided to tell her the truth, not fool around with some cock-and-bull story, as it didn’t matter to me what she thought.
“Here it is… and it’s not good. Raash was workin
g with Armel out at Rigel. You know, where he’s running that legion of lizards?”
“I… I’d heard something about that—but it’s saurians, James. You really must remember to use that term. It’s much more polite.”
“Yeah, well, whatever.”
“In any case, I recall that you met up with Armel during the Glass World campaign, didn’t you? And again at Edge World, where he was fighting in the service of the Skay?”
“That’s right. He’s been enforcing Skay Law out there in the neighboring provinces. Anyways, he’s tired of that, and he’s trying to get back to Earth.”
She laughed and almost spilled her coffee. “Good luck to him, everyone here hates him. What was Raash doing with that outfit of renegades?”
“As you know, he’s an expert at reviving large creatures—and running aliens through the machines in general. As you might imagine, his skills are rare, but not in all that much demand. Except for people who have a legion of large aliens…”
Floramel stared at me for a few moments. She seemed stunned. “Raash is working for Armel… that’s what you’re saying, isn’t it?” She put her coffee down, put her head in her hands and massaged her temples.
“You okay?” I asked.
“No. I can already guess the rest of it. You were on some commando mission—although I’m surprised I heard nothing of it—and you ran into Raash. He recognized you, then you two fought like you always do… and now, he’s dead.”
“Yeah, that’s pretty much the story.”
“This is awful, James. Raash made a huge mistake. But won’t they revive him on Rigel? I mean, if he’s one of theirs now…?”
I winced. “There’s one more detail, see. He didn’t die cleanly on Rigel. He ported out with me—holding onto me, as a matter of fact.”
Floramel stood tall and aimed a long finger at me. “You took him for a death-ride? That’s evil!”
“It wasn’t my idea, girl! He latched onto me, like a chimp holding onto its mama, and I had to push the button to escape. It wasn’t like I planned it.”
“Right…” she said, regaining control of herself. She sat back down. “So… he’s as good as permed, isn’t he? He has no body to be found at Rigel, and no body here on Earth… The Skay don’t allow people in their service to be revived without certainty of death any more than we do.”