The Jump Point

by Anthony James

  The remainder of their journey proved uneventful, but the incident had unsettled her and she saw things through slightly different eyes.

  The driver's calm, untroubled reaction and Pellis's response to her question told her this sort of occurrence was commonplace; part of normal day to day life on Belshore. If that was so, then she'd better take more notice of the warnings that were levelled at her by Timon and Sind before they left The Dark Falcon.

  The trans-cab slowed and pulled to a curb side stop. Sind fished out his card and proffered it to the driver who swiped it across his reader. Mahra reached over to the door, intending to wait for the completion of the transaction outside. The door remained firmly locked. Pellis shook his head at her, indicating she should stay where she was. She frowned back at him, not understanding, and he offered her a quiet explanation.

  "This is Belshore," he told her patiently. "Trust does not form a large part of the business dealings here, whether it be inside a trans or at the loading bay of a warehouse. We won't get out of here until payment is completed in full."

  She sat back and waited as the reader gave the go-ahead and the driver handed back Sind's card. When she tried the door this time, it was unlocked. She stepped out of the trans, checking up and down the street as she did so. All appeared clear, so she allowed herself to relax. If you wandered around like a taut wire it took its toll, particularly in heavier grav.

  The area was less populated and the buildings were larger. It looked as if they've ended up in some sort of warehousing area. She curled her lip at the ripe smells lingering in the air, as Pellis and Sind clambered out of the trans to join her. They stood and waited, saying nothing until the trans-cab pulled away from the curb and faded off into the night, leaving them alone on the empty street.

  "Right," said Pellis, "we have a bit of a walk, so we had best be going. Mahra, you stay behind us and above all, keep your eyes open."

  She didn't really need the reminder, what with the events of the past half hour, but she held back her retort. She wondered why Pellis had chosen to walk from this point rather than be dropped off right at their destination, but again thought better of asking.

  Pellis took off ahead, Sind a pace behind, and as she was instructed, Mahra brought up the rear. The streets in this area were empty and only sparsely lit. Pools of orange-yellow light made an occasional oasis in the darkened gloom of the evening haze. Their footsteps echoed from the walls of sheer-fronted windowless buildings. It heightened her feelings of exposure and vulnerability.

  Pellis's 'bit of a walk' turned out to be a bit of an understatement. They traversed four blocks and there was still no sign of them reaching anything that looked remotely like their destination.

  From time to time, as they travelled, Pellis looked over his shoulder and scanned the surrounding streets. He was clearly looking for something, but she wasn't sure what. They walked in silence, the only sound that of their footsteps, occasionally broken by the steady hum and whirr of an air-conditioning or refrigeration unit from the buildings they passed. She dared not ask how much further as Pellis strode purposefully forward. He obviously had a very clear idea of where they were headed.

  Finally, when it appeared as if their trek could go on all night, Pellis turned down a side street and stopped. He looked up and down the stretch of roadway before stepping forward to speak to her. Sind, keeping an eye on the approaches from both directions leaned back against a wall, obviously feeling the strain of the concentrated burst of exercise in the slightly heavier gravity. A light sheen of perspiration glistened on his forehead and he had to remove his lenses two or three times to wipe them clean as they fogged, obscuring his vision.

  "It's about one and a half blocks from here," said Pellis. "One or two things you will need to know before we get there. When we do, just follow our lead. Say nothing and don't be surprised by what you see or hear. All may not be as it seems. Most of all, be very judicious about your actions. Restraint is the order of the day. Am I clear?"

  "Yes, of course," answered Mahra, not really having any idea what he was talking about. For now, she was just sick of walking.

  "All right then. Let's get going." He nodded and beckoned to Sind who pushed himself off the wall and followed. Mahra had to quicken her pace to catch up.

  As they neared their destination, Chutzpah started to become agitated. His nose quivered and tail flicked up and down. Mahra sensed his tension and scanned the surrounding streets nervously. For an instant, she thought she saw a shadow flit across the intersection they had just left, but she couldn't be sure. It was probably just a trick of her imagination, helped along by the tension she was feeling from Chutzpah.

  In front of a warehouse ahead, sat two long, dark vehicles parked strategically curb side in front of the long wide doorway. On the front of each nonchalantly lounged a figure; or so it seemed. At this distance, she couldn't tell whether they were male or female. The more distant of the two wore light intensifiers. As they neared, Mahra lifted her right hand and started to run her fingers through her hair, keeping them a mere hand's breadth away from her blade hilt. As if sensing what she was doing, Pellis looked over his shoulder at her, noted the position of her hand and narrowing his eyes, gave his head a slight shake. Taking his meaning immediately, Mahra dropped her hand back to her side, watching for further clues.

  As they drew abreast of the vehicles, the man leaning against the nearest one stepped forward, deliberately blocking their path, all sense of nonchalance gone. The other stayed where she was, glasses trained on them, hand placed significantly at her belt. Pellis raised his hand and stood still. Sind and Mahra drew up behind him. The man who blocked their path looked them over one by one, all the time keeping his hand buried in the pockets of his long, grey synth-weave coat.

  "A nice night to be out strolling," he said conversationally. "A funny place for it though, wouldn't you say?" He tilted his head to one side.

  "Aye, a pleasant evening," said Pellis just as smoothly. "Now it is not so strange. Not, that is, if we are here to see Garavenah."

  "So, Garavenah is it? I suppose that's supposed to mean something to me."

  As he spoke, the woman slid off the vehicle behind him and stood, legs slightly spaced, both hands poised above her belt.

  "Sure, it should. Just tell them it's Timon Pellis. She'll see me," he said without a trace of fluster. He punctuated the statement with an ingratiating smile.

  The guard, for this was what Mahra presumed he had to be, looked Pellis over once more, then brought one of his hands into view holding a small com. He thumbed it on and spoke a few words; far too quietly for Mahra to make out. All the while, his eyes never left Timon. The woman in the background continued to stand at the ready. Mahra couldn't see where the woman was looking because of the light intensifiers covering her eyes and it made her nervous. She quelled the urge to reach for her own weapon, though she yearned at this moment for the security of having the grip held firmly in her hand.

  They stood like that, for the space of more than a minute while the guard waited, listening for a reply.

  At last it came, and he appeared satisfied. He withdrew his other hand from his pocket and motioned quickly behind him with his fingers. The woman relaxed, moved back to lean once more on the vehicle, and turned her attention back to scanning the street. The guard motioned with his chin toward the warehouse door and moved aside to let them pass. He continued watching them as they stepped toward the massive door.

  A smaller door was cut into the main surface and this swung open as they approach. A figure stepped out with weapon drawn, looked quickly up and down the street before motioning them inside, weapon pointing the way. One after the other, they stepped through, as the door banged shut with a metallic clang.

  Inside, they were met by more people with their weapons drawn, who herded them down a long corridor of stacks of crates reaching from ceiling to floor. Cameras mounted on supports suspended from the ceiling tracked their progress along the full l
ength of the artificial passageway. Not a word was spoken from one end to the other. They marched along with two guards in front and two behind until the passage opened into the wide expanse of the warehouse proper. Two more guards fell in beside them as they emerged, one from either side of the passageway. So, they were escorted to the centre of the open space.

  Boxes, crates, pieces of machinery and all manner of detritus cluttered the floor. The brightness of the overhead lights made it all stand out in stark relief. Set a little back from the centre, a wide staircase climbed to another level. Standing at the top, a tall statuesque woman waited, her long blonde hair making a sharp contrast against the deep blue of her finely cut suit. She watched them imperiously as they moved to stand below her. The fine cast of her narrowly chiselled cheekbones only served to accentuate her regal presence.

  "Timon Pellis. This is what you call yourself. What is it you want from me?"

  Pellis looked up, observed the woman for a moment before placing his hands on his hips. He tossed his head back and roared with laughter. Mahra was totally confused.

  "Well now. I could think of a thing or two," said Pellis, still chuckling. "But no, I don't think there's anything I really want from you. I don't think we've been introduced."

  Just at that point, a short stocky woman stepped into view from behind the tall blonde. Her hair was cropped short and dark, shot through with grey. She wore drab grey coveralls and sported a large rifle slung over one shoulder.

  "I'd recognise that laugh anywhere. Heh, same old Timon. Mind like a waste depot as usual." She grinned down at him. "Forgive the charade, but I have to be a little careful these days. This here's Roella. Jayeer, how are you? And a new face too. Well, just don't stand around down there all night. Come on up." She gestured for them to follow and disappeared from view, closely trailed by the woman she called Roella. After her first few words the guards at their sides faded away and they were left to mount the staircase unhindered.

  Chapter Nine

  The Cradle

  Life progressed reasonably smoothly for Mahra over the next few months despite the Old One's loss. She settled into a routine, taking responsibility for the progression of her own training where the old man had involuntarily left her. She observed the rituals and the meditations, taking each component a step at a time, and moving herself to a point where she knew she was improving. At the same time, she read where and when she could, if the self-imposed rigors of her schedule permitted. The bulletins that appeared on her comp, from time to time, were her only real contact with the world outside.

  Every day she rose at dawn and wandered out to the hillside performing the votives for the day before moving to her other tasks. As a part of this ritual, she cleansed herself, washing in the clear, icy stream finding its source in the snow-capped peaks that surrounded the sheltered valley.

  Though dawn came early, it was some time before the sun crested the peaks and allowed warmth to caress the grassy hills. She felt the cold but didn't mind it. It made her feel fresh and alive as she plunged into those frigid waters. By the time she had performed her cleaning and rituals, the sun sent golden shafts of light through the gaps between the individual rocky outcrops, reflecting off their snowy faces and dispelling the mist rising from the damp ground in the stream's vicinity.

  Her rituals over, she returned to the dwelling, drew forth the blade left to her by the old man, and walked outside to work her morning patterns. She had three patterns for the day: morning, noon, and evening. Each was slightly different from the others, working on different areas of her timing and on tautening and strengthening different muscle groups within her slim young frame. She was already near the end of her training when the Old One passed, but she still missed his guiding hand, or the word of reproach or approval to better hone her skills and forms. She tried her best to fulfil the promise the Old One saw in her.

  At times, she could feel where she might be going wrong, but lacked the knowledge to correct those flaws and it frustrated her. Some were almost surely because she hadn't yet grown to a size where she could make proper use of the blade. She only hoped she wouldn't stop growing. At least not yet.

  When she wasn't training, the remainder of her day was spent in several ways. The hills that surrounded her home were abundant with fauna and vegetation. One task the old man had set himself was to observe and catalogue as many as he could within the span of his life. He wanted to add to the data storehouse available to all who might inquire. In some ways, this was his life's work, and Mahra intended to carry on the tradition.

  She wandered through the dappled groves, peering, and spying and note taking, gradually becoming more adept at spotting tracks or recognizing a plant. Several times she came across something she thought was new, only to find on her return that the old man had been and done that before her.

  The secondary purpose of these excursions was practical. While on these exploratory journeys she stocked up on provisions, building up the contents of her larder and her medicine supplies. From time to time, she hunted.

  The hunting stirred something strange in her. The adrenaline rush of the hunt and the kill was there, but it was as if when she became the huntress, and some creature became the prey, she became bonded by invisible threads to her victim. Sometimes she felt she could predict a creature's moves just as it was about to make them. She knew the way it was about to turn, or if it would attack if cornered. She could feel the heart pumping in the heaving chest and sense the blood coursing through the animal's veins. And she was linked to them as they breathed their last breath of life, feeling that rush of familiar emptiness. The chase was about survival and she had no moral problem with stalking and killing what she needed, if it was nothing more than that. She was not greedy, and she only took what was necessary. It was as if the land around her knew this and begrudged her little for what she took.

  She became as one with the woodland creatures inhabiting the areas around her simple dwelling. They became so used to her that now they merely glanced up as she passed, as if she really belonged.

  As the days passed, and the weeks became months, her strength improved. She could feel herself growing both in size and in skill. Mahra knew too that her knowledge was growing with the passage of time. Often, when she came across a particularly difficult concept, or something that made no sense to her at all, she visited the Old One and talked it through with him. She knew that he couldn't answer, nor could he hear her, but in some ways, it helped her sort things through. His body didn't disturb her. It suffered some deterioration, but the barrow's cold dry air made it more like a drying. She had seen many dead things before. It was a natural part of the life cycle. It was just as though being there brought her closer to his presence and his guiding influence in some way, wherever he might have gone.

  On the odd occasion, deep in the night's darkening gloom, she imagined hearing his soft, firm voice whispering to her of things she should look for and those she had to do, but she dismissed these as imaginings brought on by her solitude and the dark.

  Her routine was settled and went on without pause. Mahra became comfortable with it and felt herself growing to a point where she could desire nothing else. Not even being alone troubled her, for she foresaw each new day as a quest of discovery of herself and her world.

  One afternoon, as usual, she stood outside to practice with the blade. They were her midday patterns and the sweat shone slick on her face. The sun was high, beating down upon her exertions and the yellow-brown hues that marked the summer season. Far off in the distance she could sense the brewing of an afternoon storm, the tension building in the air as if she could touch it, almost.

  She finished as she had begun, legs slightly spaced, blade held out before her and with a practiced move, slid it back behind her shoulder and then returned inside. Carefully she unbuckled the straps, and, after removing the sheath from her back and laying it with respect upon the bed, rewrapped it, following the pattern she discovered on that first day. She never
had any trouble remembering patterns and shapes. They seemed to come to her naturally and lay somewhere in her mind, waiting to be recalled without hesitation. The Old One had spent many hours concentrating on this part of her training, and now it was like second nature to her. She accepted this without a second thought. It was as natural as moving her legs one after the other when walking, and about as much effort.

  Having wrapped the bundle carefully in its cloth, she was about to return it to its proper place within the chest at the foot of the bed, when she sensed a presence approaching.

  For some reason, she thought better of replacing the blade, and she left the package on the bed, flipping open the wrappings to make sure it would be easy to reach should she had need of it. Mahra couldn't say exactly how she knew that there was someone approaching, but she knew it all the same. The presence moving toward her small dwelling was like a wave that disrupted the flow of harmony that surrounded the place and that was what made her cautious. In some way, it didn't quite fit the pattern of things.

  She had not had a visitor in all the time since she had passed on the word of the Old One's passing. Leaving the blade, she made her way to the narrow doorway and looked out toward the slopes beyond. She still wasn't sure why she felt a need to leave the blade handy, but she did so all the same. They were all one people. None could be a threat.

  At least some of her instincts were right. A solitary figure was just cresting the top of the nearest hill. Long dark robes fluttered about his frame as he strolled down the hillside toward the small dwelling. The figure was too far away yet to make out any features or to assign a gender, but she knew without doubt that the newcomer was male. She watched him without stirring from her position as he traversed the space between them.

  Patiently, she leaned against the doorframe as he walked toward her. Now that he drew closer, she could see that her first impressions had not misled her. He was indeed male, but the dark robes and the feeling of tension flowing from him marked him as being something different. Mahra didn't know why, but it was clear that the newcomer was causing the disturbance. There was a sense of something uneasy about this one, something not quite right, as if he were at odds with his surroundings. She couldn't put a name to it, but if she was forced to describe it, she'd say that he gave off a prickly sensation. She knew intuitively that he presented no threat to her, but the odd feeling fed her disquiet.