My Outcast State (The Maauro Chronicles Book 1)

by Edward McKeown

  Maauro’s optical camo vanished and she stepped forward, her weapon aimed at the ground between them. “You missed a third option.”

  Lostra froze, a look of shock flitting over her face. She turned only her head to stare in disbelief at Maauro, at the orange and gray jumpsuit, and the yellow bow tied in the long black hair. “How in God’s name did I miss you?”

  “My friend Maauro is full of surprises. Nasty ones when provoked,” I said.

  Lostra stared at Maauro, who, recognizing another predator, stared back unflinchingly.

  “So you have a new girlfriend,” Lostra said, a smile sickling across her face. “But don’t try and tell me that tinkertoy is a human.”

  “You may consider me a new species,” Maauro interrupted, “a noneofyourgoddamnbusinessean.”

  Lostra’s face flushed and she turned to face Maauro. “No one talks to me that way.”

  “Wrik, please move back,” Maauro said. “I do not wish to feel restrained.”

  “I’m considered pretty fast,” Lostra said idly.

  “Not by me,” Maauro returned. Her posture showed neither relaxation nor tension, nothing for Lostra to read beyond a total lack of fear.

  I realized I wasn’t breathing. “Lostra, we’re not here for this. We’re here to find Jaelle Tekala.”

  “Really,” Lostra said, staring at Maauro.

  I felt a flash of anger at the stupidity of it all. “Holster your ego. You’ll just go from living to meat.”

  Lostra looked sidewise at me. “Not worried that I might get you too, Wrik? No, you’re not worried, are you? I’ve heard you’re,” her eyes flicked back to Maauro, “or were…until recently, a very, very cautious man.”

  Apparently, my lack of concern persuaded her. She half-turned away from Maauro. “So Tekala hired you too. Well, hard to blame him, considering how overdue I was.” She stepped toward me, but I recognized that she was trying to put me between her and Maauro. I moved to stand next to Maauro.

  Lostra gave me a small smile and an approving nod

  “Now that we have that out of our system,” I said. “Why don’t you tell us what happened to you? Have you seen Jaelle or the others who came after her?”

  Lostra walked over to sit on a broken crate. “You got a dopestick? I’m dying for one.”

  “He doesn’t do drugs,” Maauro said.

  We both did a double-take on her.

  “Will a cup of mocha do?” I said. I pulled a self-heating container from my backpack and tossed it to her. Lostra snatched it out of the air in a move almost too fast to follow. She snapped the tab on it.

  “The old man hired me to find her. I did the same thing you did, came to the last site where she was known to be. I brought my light fighter and figured I’d just burn an opening in the canopy with my weapons, but the ground concealed a hole and my ship crashed and burned on landing. Since then I’ve been dodging primitives, killing the ones that got too close and hoping somebody else would show up that I could catch a lift back with.”

  “Did you see Terrazzas or Veggs?” I asked.

  She looked at me curiously. “No.”

  “They were the second and third rescue attempts. We’re the fourth.”

  Lostra shrugged. “Well, they didn’t come this way.” The lid popped off the mocha. She blew across the steaming liquid and sipped it. “Gah, almost as good as a dopestick.”

  “Did you find any sign of Jaelle?” Maauro asked.

  Again the measuring look from Lostra. “I got close to the biggest village in this area. It’s about ten klicks west on the edge of the Tar Sea. I saw someone being hustled from one hut to another. It was too far to be sure, but it looked like a Nekoan.”

  I bit my lip and looked at Maauro. “What do you think?”

  “If Jaelle is alive, we should extract her. Her body is worth 100,000 credits alive and 10,000 even dead.”

  I sighed. If we lived, I was going to drum commerce into her metal head.

  Lostra whistled. “Nice money, better than they offered me. If you’re going into that village you’ll need help. Cut me in for half and I’ll come with you.”

  Before Maauro could buy high and sell low, I raised a hand. “Equal shares, three ways.”

  Lostra’s black eyes bored into me. “You see a lot of gunners waiting to be hired?”

  “Your utility to us is marginal,” Maauro said. “We have weapons and transportation.”

  Lostra’s face twitched, as did my stomach.

  “Still, we could use the help,” I added

  Maauro’s face betrayed nothing. She merely gazed unblinkingly at the gunwoman. “As you wish, Wrik.”

  “Your pretty friend is right. It’s a long walk home. An equal share it is.” Lostra finished the mocha and tossed it over her shoulder. “You got a plan, Sweetie?”

  “Take us to a good observation point near the village. We’ll reconnoiter and plan a stealthy assault.”

  “You want anything to eat?” I asked Lostra. “Need any meds?”

  “Nah,” she said rising. “The sooner we get the catgirl or her pelt, the sooner we can get back to what passes for civilization in this shithole.” Lostra walked off with no evident concern about whether we’d follow.

  I started forward, but Maauro put a hand on my arm. I was surprised to feel how soft that hand was. She’d been playing with textures again.

  “I am unconvinced of her story,” she whispered. “Her equipment and person are in very good order for an extended combat op in this environment. Remain alert.”

  Chapter 7

  Hours later, we reached a promontory with a good view of the village. A palisade, complete with watchtowers, faced us. Behind it were a hundred or more mud and wattle huts. A lower palisade faced the Tar Sea, which was less a sea than a continuation of the swamp; only here it was a mass of tar, topped with water and pocked with hummocks of tough, yellow plants.

  I could see a horde of dugouts pulled up on the shoreline. Behind them ran a long stone jetty covered by ornate wooden structures. I marveled at the effort that went into making it in an area not overly blessed with stone. On its other side, the top of a shed-like structure with a metal roof projected.

  “Interesting,” Maauro said. “The village was only recently fortified. The original layout took little account of defensibility. The palisades are of recent construction, of newly cut wood.”

  “Meaning?” I asked.

  “They have acquired enemies only recently.”

  Lostra’s eyes flicked to Maauro, but she said nothing.

  A commotion on the stone jetty drew our attention. A party of Kandalorians in brightly colored robes and wearing long feathers came out of one of the ornately-carved wooden structures. Behind these dignitaries came warriors dragging a struggling captive.

  I cursed and grabbed for my binoculars.

  “It is not a Nekoan,” Maauro reassured me. “Nor is it any other of the known species.”

  The binoculars auto-focused on the scene and I could see the truth of Maauro’s statement. The captive was a humanoid with gray-blue skin and a crest of bone or something on its head. I couldn’t see much of a face but got the impression of large eyes like Maauro’s. The being wore clothing far more sophisticated than his or her captors.

  Chanting reached our ears and natives began to spill out of the huts, gathering down at the shore. There was an ugly violence underlying the chanting. I passed the binoculars to Lostra. “What do you make of it?”

  She studied the scene. “No species that I know of. The others look like priests and warriors.”

  “I wonder if that might be one of the will o’ wisps that we have heard rumors of,” Maauro said.

  The party reached the end of the jetty and secured the struggling captive to a wooden apparatus.

  Sickness gripped me; some horror was i
n the offing.

  The chanting rose to a hideous crescendo and suddenly the apparatus flung the bound captive out into the Tar Sea. The roar of the villagers mercifully covered any scream by the doomed captive, who hit the tarry water with a splash and disappeared. I swallowed hard, fighting nausea, and looked away.

  After a few seconds, I looked back at Maauro and Lostra, both of whom gazed on unaffected by the murderous scene. The similarity between them chilled me.

  No additional awfulness followed. The villagers returned to their huts and activities, and the priests disappeared into the wooden structure.

  “Show’s over,” Lostra said, turning her back to the village and settling in. In seconds the gunwoman was asleep. Maauro, too, settled into a sitting posture, watching the village. I tried very hard to forget what I had seen and there was no possibility of rest for me.

  Night fell quickly in the tropic latitude. We waited in silence for the village to settle. Fires flared up in the village, but to my surprise I saw modern lights on the other side of the jetty near the shed. There was someone besides natives in the village.

  “I see it, too,” Lostra said. “If Jaelle is down there, my bet is she’s near those lights.”

  “You have a plan?” Maauro asked.

  It seemed odd for her to defer to Lostra, but the gunner had been stalking this village for weeks.

  “Yeah. Now that you’re here, with that ship cannon you carry so easily, I have some folks to cover my escape. There’s a spot near the palisade where a stream runs out. I’ve never seen a grill over it, so I can get in that way and see if I can find Jaelle. If I’m detected, you two start blowing stuff up and provide a diversion and cover for me.”

  “Sound,” Maauro observed. “We will await your return there.” She pointed to a point of high ground opposite the palisade gate. The small hill provided cover and boasted an inky area where light didn’t penetrate. “I will blast a hole in the gate if you cannot escape by stealth. Give us ten minutes to make our way there before you enter.”

  “Excellent. If I’m not back before dawn, do something about it.”

  We nodded and Lostra made her way forward. After a minute, Maauro turned to me. “We must flee the area. We are about to be betrayed.”

  “What?” I said, stunned.

  “We have been led into a trap. Follow me.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Lostra’s appearance, her equipment, her casual planning of the assault and the ridiculous claim to have laired near a tribe of jungle hunters for months without being discovered.”

  “What if you’re wrong?” I grabbed her arm, probably not the smartest thing I’d ever done.

  “Very well,” she said. “We will wait here for ten minutes until you see the proof yourself.”

  The minutes ticked by slowly. Sweat trickled under my clothes. I tried not to shift about, but there was no way to mimic Maauro’s utter stillness.

  Then three quick flashes shattered the darkness. In a dark hollow on the reverse of the slope where we’d promised Lostra we’d be, explosions flashed and the trees fell as if scythed.

  “Mortars,” Maauro said, “zeroed on that spot.”

  Shouts and screams started as a party led by Lostra dashed out from the suddenly opened gates.

  “I could destroy her,” Maauro observed, “but it will give away our position and involve us in an extended ground fight with unknown forces that you might not survive. Let us relocate.”

  ***

  We move through the jungle away from Lostra’s ambush. Wrik’s lack of proper night vision slows us, but we still make good speed, leaving any pursuit well behind. I motion Wrik to cover as I detect unidentified personnel in our area. This surprises me. While Lostra does not know who I am, she clearly suspects and would surely be too cautious to face me in darkness. I did not detect aircraft or any other mechanical transport being used and cannot determine how enemy forces got ahead of us. My sensors detect two small groups moving in our direction. I move forward to engage them. I do not unlimber my weapon, merely invoking a splinter camouflage that will make me more difficult to see. I also extrude molecularly sharp blades on the edges of my hands. This will be wetwork.

  Moving through the forest I detect two Kandalorians. One is carrying a modern weapon. Particles of its lubricants reach my receptors. I realize from their movements that the Kandalorians are not following us but are moving to block the other party.

  I see the others now. There are two. The leader moves with a stealthy rapidity that I admire. The other creature is muffled under clothing. That creature moves a hand and I see the reason for the covering. It has a bioluminescent glow.

  The Kandalorians see it, too. One raises a scattergun as its fellow readies a bow.

  I move.

  The gunman detects my onrush at the last second, but he is far too slow to bring his weapon to bear. My right hand lashes out and his head parts from his body. The other Kandalorian gives a yell and looses his bolt, which simply shatters on my chest. I return the favor by lunging; my hand slams through his chest.

  The other pair freezes in place, leveling primitive weapons at me. The Nekoan seems to see me clearly and holds her hand up to bid the other to hold his fire.

  “Greetings, Jaelle Tekala,” I say, prying my arm out of the dead Kandalorian. “We are here to rescue you.”

  Chapter 8

  “Wrik, come up,” Maauro called back to me. “The enemy is dispatched.”

  I lowered my weapon and moved cautiously forward. In a little clearing I saw the Nekoan we’d come so far to find standing over two dead Kandalorians. With her stood another of the gray-skinned aliens, wearing a thrown-back cloak. I realized that I could see quite clearly, more than could be accounted for even by Kandalor’s large moon. The gray-skinned alien emitted a glow that outlined Jaelle’s silhouette like a candle.

  I couldn’t help but stare. Jaelle looked like a jungle princess, a lithe body only barely concealed by the remnants of her torn and discolored fatigues. Like most female Nekoans, her small features made her look more human, but the pink bat ears that rose from her mane of thick hair gave her a primeval look.

  “Take a holo,” she said in a velvety, rich voice.

  “Uh,” I replied. “Sorry, Jaelle. Your father sent me.”

  “My father?” she asked, narrow-eyed.

  “Yes. He told us how you disappeared hunting the will o’ wisps and treasure. He’s worried for your safety.”

  “Hmphh. More like the old rat-catcher is worried about the money I borrowed from him.” She looked past me at Maauro. “Who are you two?”

  “Wrik Trigardt from Vanceport.”

  Maauro cocked her head at the other female. “I am Maauro, Wrik’s cousin.”

  “Oh, please,” she said. “You’re no human or any other Confed species. I saw you smash a hand through that warrior as if he were made of paper.”

  “What she is,” I interrupted, “is our best chance for not getting skewered. This neighborhood is unhealthy.”

  Jaelle spoke a few words to her companion in something other than Standard. It flipped up its cloak, dimming the radiance.

  “This is Faroa,” Jaelle said. “He’s a Murch, what we’d call a will o wisp, survivor of a crashed colony ship from thousands of years ago. There are only a few hundred of them left, living in the swamps to the west.”

  I looked at the creature with its huge eyes like big blue stones, devoid of any pupil. “Further introductions,” I said, “should wait till we get the hell out of here.”

  “There is no indication of pursuit,” Maauro said. “These were either returning to camp or stalking Jaelle. I do not believe Lostra will risk a night action with us.”

  “Or,” I said with some heat, “she’ll rely on her natives, who grew up in these jungles stalking wild animals.”

  Jaell
e shook her head. “We’re on a rescue mission. One of our companions is imprisoned in the village. Perhaps we can reach him in the confusion.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “We saw one of his people killed today.”

  Jaelle head sunk and she swore. I didn’t need to know Nekoan to understand.

  Her companion reached out a hand and spoke in his guttural tongue. She spoke back and the creature gave a keening cry and leaned against a tree.

  “How?” Jaelle asked.

  “He was—” Maauro began.

  “Just tell him it was quick,” I interrupted.

  She looked me in the eye. “Was it?”

  I tried to suppress a shudder. “Not enough.”

  Jaelle spoke to the Murch. It straightened up and ran a hand over its face. Jaelle patted it on the shoulder, and then continued with what sounded like instructions.

  The Murch gave us a look that somehow conveyed uncertainty. It spoke to Jaelle and I got the impression it was trying to dissuade her. Jaelle put a hand on its shoulder and repeated what she had said.

  The Murch pressed forearms with her and disappeared back into the forest.

  “I sent him back to his people,” Jaelle said, “to tell of the death of his pod brother and to warn them to stay in the distant reaches of the swamp, now that Dusko and the Thieves Guild have supplied the Kandalorians with modern weapons.”

  “Dusko!” I said.

  “Who do you think is paying Lostra? He found out about the ancient artifacts in these regions and the will o’ wisps. The Murch used to conduct a limited trade in artifacts and medicines with the Kandalorians. Murch are great healers. Some have a psychic power that can cure injuries. Otherwise I’d be dead.

  “Dusko and the Guild turned the Kandalorians on the Murch, using threats and bribes. Wasn’t hard. These tribes have always been raiders and hunters. Now they’re organized. Since then, they’ve been digging up artifacts and raiding further into the Murch swamps.”

  “Quite a little war we’ve dropped into,” I said.

  “You have a plan for getting out of here?”