My Outcast State (The Maauro Chronicles Book 1)

by Edward McKeown

  I looked at Maauro. “Lostra knows where we came ashore.”

  “Yes and that route would take us too close to the village,” Maauro said.

  “We can’t walk out,” I protested.

  “No immediate plan of extraction occurs,” Maauro said. “We cannot call for help at this distance with any equipment we have.”

  “Who would come?” I said in disgust.

  “For now,” Jaelle said, “there are mountains to the north. I have some supplies cached there. We should be safe until we can plan something. Follow me.”

  ***

  We follow the Nekoan through the woods for hours. She moves effortlessly with night sight almost as good as my own. She is an athletic creature, more powerful than a human female.

  She appears to have a curious effect on Wrik and he on her. He studies her physique whenever she does not appear to be watching. I also note that he has taken to offering her assistance in climbing or walking that she manifestly does not need. She accepts the unnecessary aid with smiles and lingers in contact with the human.

  She tells of having been alone for many months, only recently being found and befriended by the will o’ wisps and helping them against Lostra’s forces. Wrik’s expressions of sympathy seem very intense, as does his interest in her well-being.

  I consider that both she and Wrik have been subject to an extended period of fear and physical stress. This could lead to aberrational behavior. I must be on guard about this.

  Wrik stops at a stream to refill our canteens and purify them. It leaves me with Jaelle.

  Jaelle examines me closely. “I am grateful for your presence, but who and what are you, Maauro? Your skin is perfect, yet we’ve been plowing through brush at night for hours. Not a scratch from a tree limb or a bug bite. You don’t perspire. You’re not breathing hard. In fact, you’re not breathing.”

  I consider my remark to Lostra about being a noneofyourgoddamnbusinessean but it seems inappropriate for our ally. I rifle through my files of human behavior patterns that I extracted from the game sims I used for my appearance. I note that the female characters usually tend to be both mysterious and secretive. I elect to use this.

  “Every girl has her secrets,” I reply.

  Jaelle begins touching my hair, running her hands through it.

  I am confused. “Since you are not attacking me, is this an attempt at seduction?”

  Jaelle looks at me, startled, then laughs. “No. I prefer males. I’m sorry Nekoans are a tactile and curious people. I forget that humans… and whatever you are, may be different.”

  “Wrik does seem to enjoy touching you,” I observe.

  “Is that a problem?” she asks.

  “Not presently.”

  “Is he yours?”

  “We are in an alliance, but if you mean sexually, no”

  “Good to know. Nothing more dangerous than hunting in another female’s territory. Wrik is rather handsome, even if his ears aren’t in the right spot.”

  “He is not Nekoan.”

  Jaelle smiled. “True, and wouldn’t that piss off Daddy? Nekoan males have a nasty tendency to sit back and let the pride females maintain them. I avoid them.”

  Wrik returns from the stream and offers Jaelle a canteen. “It doesn’t taste great, but it’s wet.”

  “Thank you, Wrik.”

  We continue on, breaking out of the jungle into a range of small hills. One nearby hill provides a superior overlook and we proceed up it to find Jaelle’s cache. There is a hollow just below the summit. There is food but little else other than more primitive weapons.

  We settled down in the hollow. I dropped my jacket and pack to the ground and slumped down wearily on it.

  “I’ll check out the area,” Maauro said and faded into the woods.

  Jaelle sat close beside me.

  I rose up on my arms and gazed at her. Jaelle’s nearness made the rest of the world recede. I imagined that I felt the heat of her body against my thigh, though we were not touching. She seemed so exotic, silhouetted against the stars.

  A shiver flashed over her lithe body.

  “Cold?” I ventured.

  “Yah” she replied, then after a pause, “cold and lonely and far from home. A home that wasn’t that good as I think about it. Not sure why I’m missing it so.”

  Her openness caught me off guard. Feelings that I thought gone surged through me.

  “It’s still home,” I managed before my throat closed up on me.

  Jaelle looked down on me, her eyes glimmering in the starlight. “Are you a long way from home too, Wrik?”

  “Further than any stardrive can ever carry me across,” I whispered. I lay back on the jacket, looking skyward, though I knew the star that Retief circled wasn’t visible from here. I wondered if anyone there remembered me or ever wondered what had become of me.

  Jaelle lay down next to me, tugging my thin jacket over both of us.

  “Warmer this way,” she said.

  I looked into the alien eyes, looking for what, I couldn’t say

  “What would you do if I was a human?”

  Very slowly, I leaned forward and kissed her. Her response told me that Nekoans did this too. Making love over the next hour involved false starts, giggles, laughs and a few moments of “Really?” as well as one bite on my shoulder that she apologized for profusely. It was…similar and satisfying, as was falling asleep in an ecology where nothing had evolved to specifically bite or sting us. We didn’t have to worry about larger predators with Maauro patrolling.

  Maauro, I thought drowsily, distracted by the warmth and smell of Jaelle, who lay with her head on my shoulder, eyes half-closed. What was she thinking about all this? I wondered and then sleep took me.

  ***

  When I return to the hollow, I detect that Wrik and Jaelle are entwined. Confused, I move a distance off.

  I find Wrik’s attraction to the Nekoan female odd and disturbing. It had not occurred to me that he would find one out of his species of interest. Gender doesn’t exist for me save that I have adopted it. I enjoy the concept, the interaction and minor attentions that Wrik gives me because he anthropomorphizes me, but I never gave any thought to the issue of sexuality unbalancing our relationship. I am literally not made for it.

  Wrik and I had achieved a stable orbit. I needed a place in this new civilization and a guide. Wrik needed protection. Now a new factor was interfering with that orbit, Jaelle.

  I consider if it is in my interest for Jaelle to continue living, but eliminating her would incur Wrik’s enmity. It occurs to me that I should have devoted more time to the literature of his species, much of which centered on these issues.

  The noise of the two settles, and I move into the hollow to keep watch.

  Chapter 9

  I tossed and turned in my sleep. It was difficult to sleep after the excitement of making love again after so long. It brought up the past and a life that I thought was gone…it brought back the dreams…

  ***

  “Up the Ncome Commando,” Delt shouted from the screen on my Wirriway’s panel. Twenty-four of the green and tan fighters climbed into Retief’s skies. Above us the cloudless blue was filled with the descending contrails of Confederate landing craft sent to punish the rebellion. Retief’s Boers and Trekkers wanted this world to themselves and their own kind, fleeing all the way from Old Earth to make it so. The Confederacy said no, but the stubborn graybeards wouldn’t give in without a fight and now a lot of young pilots from my hometown were about to die making that fight for them.

  Just so we don’t have to look at people different than us, I thought, despairing as I brought the fighter’s nose up. But these were my people. I’d known everyone in this squadron from childhood.

  Ahead of me three Wirriways exploded; hit by Confed missiles fired BVR. Our locally made
ships were no match for the modern electronics of the Confed force.

  “Keep climbing, Ncome,” Delt shouted again. “We’re under their landing ships. The battlewagons can’t fire through them at us. Stick to me, you lot.”

  War-whoops and shouts answered him, but I remained silent, staring in grim sickness at the growing dots of our targets.

  But the landing ships weren’t defenseless. Swift as death, down came four long-hulled, white and black Spacefire IXs. Missiles and beams flashed from them as our formation dissolved into a giant furball. My universe became a bowl of blazing blue alternating with the green world below, marked with the black and yellow smudges that heralded the death of a Wirriway as I banked and rolled desperately.

  I heard my name as Delt shouted in my ears. “You’re clear. Take your section into the landing craft.”

  I pulled my nose up again and led my four-ship section against the roof of landing craft over us. We couldn’t lock weapons through the fog of ECM, so we had to close to use our weapons ballistically.

  No. 3 of my flight blew up.

  “Two more Spacefires!” my wingman, Regina Van Dyck, screamed. She stood her fighter on its left wing and whipped away from a missile that detonated just past her. I got a quarter-second burst at the flashing Spacefire, no joy.

  No. 4 blew up, leaving only Regina and me. I rolled back toward her. I could see her Wirriway staggering in the sunshine. The leopard she’d painted on its blunt nose reflected a brilliant yellow.

  The Spacefire flashed in again and Reg’s fighter tumbled and disintegrated, wreathed in flame. I salvoed my missiles at him. I had no lock, but a lucky hit was possible. The enemy fighter took no chances, diving away. I looked for her ejection pod but couldn’t see anything. I was alone.

  Diving away, diving away, the phrase raced around my brain. I looked up at the big LCs, coming into in range. Even if I reached them, dozens of gunners waited for me.

  Diving away.

  I heard Delt shout my name. Delt, my friend from kindergarten.

  Diving away.

  And I did. Deaf to the cries of people I’d trained with, grown up with. I dove away from the LC gunners and the deadly Spacefires.

  No one will know, I thought. We’re being wiped out. There’ll be no one to tell.

  It didn’t work out that way…

  ***

  I sat bolt upright, covered in sweat, heart hammering.

  Jaelle rolled up to standing, quick as the cat she looked like. Her eyes, far better in the dark than a human’s, scanned the treeline. “What the fang?”

  I tried to slow my breathing and reached for a canteen. A swallow cleared my head. But I couldn’t look at her; the shame of who and what I was lay too close. I half-turned away, afraid she could somehow read it in my face.

  “Bad dreams,” I finally said.

  She walked back over and sat next to me. “Dreams…or memories?”

  I cringed.

  To my surprise, she lay back down.

  “You’re not the only one with bad memories,” she said. “Try not to thrash around so much. It’s still hours to dawn.”

  I ached to tell her something but couldn’t bring myself to do it. In a few minutes her regular breathing told me she’d fallen back asleep. I lay awake for hours, surrounded by my ghosts.

  As the sky lightened, I saw a silhouette against the sky, a figure looking down at me with a bow in her hair.

  What would Maauro think if she knew?

  ***

  In the morning, I rejoin the two biologicals, who have now awakened. They separately adjourn to a nearby stream to clean themselves. When they return, we prepare food. I warm the rations by running heat through my hands. They find this intensely amusing.

  I question Jaelle about the village. I am pleased by her tactical sense and the details she conveys, especially about the machine shed where Lostra maintains her skimmers.

  “Our best plan,” I say, “is to anticipate that they will seek to ambush us at our old skimmer. Instead, we will infiltrate the village, secure a skimmer and escape.”

  “What will we use for a map?” Jaelle asks.

  “I can uplink the GPS records I retained from the trip out,” I advise.

  Jaelle and Wrik look at each other, which I find annoys me. “Okay,” Wrik says.

  “We will move back to the village and arrive at night,” I conclude. “Patrols will likely have discovered the bodies today. It should make them reluctant to pursue us at night.”

  “They’re not worried about us,” Wrik adds. “It’s 150 miles back to Wayfarer. No trails, nothing. They know we can’t walk back. Hell, they’re probably waiting for us between here and Wayfarer. They don’t need to chase us.”

  “Your logic is sound,” I observe.

  Wrik and Jaelle keep to a relaxed pace as we make our way back to the village. We need to arrive under cover of darkness, especially as the Guild now must be factored in.

  “Lostra is working for Dusko,” Jaelle responds to Wrik’s questions. “Dusko is Guild but only because he’s the most successful local product. There’s nothing on Kandalor to really interest the Guild. They just sub out the work to people, if you want to call them that, like Dusko.

  “This implies a distant command center,” I say. “It also implies some prize locally that has not been apparent before. Are the Murch valuable?”

  Jaelle frowns, which puts pointy teeth on her lower lip. “I can’t tell you much about the Murch. First, it’s a promise, second, I don’t know much. They’ve remained alive and undetected in this area. That implies they have some useful knowledge. Then there are the artifacts that I’ve discovered from some ancient empire that fought here.”

  I smile to myself. If she only knew that she was walking alongside one of those self-same artifacts…

  ***

  Jaelle would say no more and we reached the village after sunset. We made our way to a hollow near the village, where Maauro left us to scout forward on her own. Jaelle and I sat in the hollow, shoulders touching. This close to the enemy, we didn’t dare speak, even in whispers. Jaelle didn’t seem to find the silence uncomfortable, any more than she had found our sudden impulses toward each other last night. Nekoans were more casual about sex than humans, with several females often contracting with one male. In the old days, the arrangement had been more akin to a pride of lions.

  Maybe it had been just a relief from months of tension and fear for her, too. I found myself wondering what it might be like if there was more to it. Jaelle was exotic and beautiful.

  Maauro’s return disrupted any further foolish thoughts. She put a palm against each of our faces. “I am speaking to you by bone conduction. We cannot be overheard.

  “Lostra and her Guilders seem to be covering every eventuality,” Maauro continued. “A large party left in the direction of our skimmer, midafternoon by the deterioration of the crushed vegetation under the footprints.

  “She’s placed mines and sensor detectors around the perimeter of the village, crude devices which I reprogrammed so they will not react to our presence. She’s also booby-trapped the water entrance.”

  “How do we get in?” I whispered.

  “We leap over the wall. I will carry one of you under each arm. There is a bowed section of wall between the two guard towers. We will enter there.”

  Ten minutes of harrowing creeping through the jungle brought us to the spot Maauro had picked. The slender android peered between the crudely sawn logs of the palisade to make sure nothing awaited us; then she checked the occupants of the guard towers. Satisfied, she moved back and placed an arm around each of us.

  “Crouch,” she commanded, “and keep your legs tucked up. Let me absorb the landing shock.”

  Sudden acceleration caused me to gray out and all I saw was a blur as we sailed over the palisade. We landed wit
h a teeth-rattling jar on the other side, Maauro’s feet sinking well into the earth. She let go of us, then looked surprised as we both tumbled to the ground, needing a few seconds to recover. Struggling to our feet, we followed Maauro through the sleeping village to the machine shed.

  As we neared the shed, a growl sounded from the darkness to our left. Maauro lunged, instantly seizing the native equivalent of a guard dog. The growling animal fastened its teeth on her arm, which muffled its voice. Maauro snapped its neck and dropped it to the ground. We stared about, but no one seemed to have heard the quick and lethal encounter.

  Maauro waved us forward into the shed. Two skimmers lay inside, one with its engine casing off. We piled into the other. Maauro gave the skimmer a mighty shove before leaping aboard.

  “We will drift out a little,” she said in a low voice, “then I will activate the motor and connect to the GPS.”

  “Something feels wrong,” I said. “There are no interior guards, no mechanical locks or sensors.”

  Maauro shrugged. “Lostra would not believe we’d be so foolish as to return to the village. She has sent the bulk of her forces to ambush us where we landed. Doubtless they believe the village is adequately defended. She did not count on me.”

  Jaelle crouched low in the skimmer, watching the village dwindle as a current took us out. Maauro walked past her to the control console. She started the engine at its lowest setting, a throaty murmur. We picked up speed.

  In the east, the sky began to lighten. A thick fog and mist arose from the swamp. I was grateful for it. It would make our escape easier. Maauro, who saw well in low light or fog, opened up the engine. I breathed a sigh of relief as I watched Maauro pull a jack from a concealed panel in her neck and plug it into the GPS board.

  Suddenly Maauro’s body began to jerk and shudder at high speed. “WWWWRRRRIIIIIIIKKKKKKK HEELLLLLLLLPPPPPPP MMMMMEEEEEEEEE IIIIITTTTTSSSSSS AAAAAA TTTTTRRRRRAPPPPPPPP.”

  ***

  I plug into the skimmer and do a flash scan of all of its systems. We must get under way quickly. The disabled skimmer cannot pursue us, but once the village contingent realizes that a skimmer has been stolen, they can call for help from the ambush force. I must access the GPS and program an evasive course that takes us back to Wayfarer.