Kicking Ashe

by Pauline Baird Jones

  Crap load of tech here, so why can’t we connect to any of it? Be almost as good as food and rest to know where the freak they were.

  The tech is hostile to an unprecedented degree.

  If she’d had the energy, she’d have grinned. Not a surprise the sonic hammer’s tech was hostile to an unprecedented degree.

  And I sense a very sophisticated dampening field. This is not just a cloak but also a shield.

  Lurch felt surprised by that, though he declined to share why. The camp, Ashe decided, was a bit like Shan and his boys, a mix of rustic and sophisticated. Cute little tech towers, sort of like dwarves, marched around what she assumed was the perimeter of the camp. Lots of bang for a minimal footprint. Tents in a variety of sizes were scattered inside that perimeter. The ground cover showed signs of moderately long occupation. A soft plume of smoke issued from a larger, centrally placed tent. Smoke? Could they be using fire? And if so, to do what?

  Since fire is not needed for heat or light, that leaves food preparation.

  Primitive plus.

  It might be a choice.

  Why could anyone choose to cook with fire? She sensed something odd from him and added, what? What’s wrong?

  It is…quite different…

  From the alternate reality he declined to fully share with her is what he meant by that comment. That’s good, isn’t it? His grudging assent almost made her smile—not that she had energy for that either, which was good because Shan watched her like a quartesh about to swoop on its prey and pluck it to pieces.

  What is his problem? I haven’t done anything to him—in this reality.

  Except threaten his status quo—whatever that might be.

  He can keep his status and his quo. I just want food, repair time and a way out of here. That wasn’t the whole truth, but Lurch couldn’t smell a lie.

  Shan flicked his hand, which seemed to be an order to his boys to lose the automaton parts because Eamon and the others toting the parts trotted toward the other larger tent. They reappeared rather quickly, accompanied by a group that contained two women. Lurch’s interest spiked higher, like a shiver down her back.

  Despite the withholding of information, Ashe did know that at their last meeting Shan had been looking to acquire females by fair means or foul. Based on what Shan had told her, that wasn’t a problem in this reality. No, in this one they’d chosen to cage all their women. This didn’t tell them when they were though. They needed drones to tap into the tech and get answers, but until some could be replicated and deployed, all she could do was look, listen and sniff.

  Wasn’t a bloodhound or a seeing eye dog, so neither sniffing or seeing helped all that much, though she was pleased there wasn’t anything nasty lingering in the cloak-contained air. Not much to hear with everyone staring at Ashe. Nothing to touch now and not much to touch later, since she didn’t want to be the reason anyone died. She needed tech, needed the data flow that boosted all her senses and widened her view. Missed her time sense like a lost limb. She’d heard when a person lost a sense, the others sharpened. So far wasn’t feeling the sharpening of anything but tired.

  Those two women wear side arms.

  No blades or long range weapons, though. Their clothes were different from the men’s, too. Not sure what it meant. Could the leather attire be their version of a military uniform? If it was, well, way-to-go people in charge of leather, cause dang, it worked. And how come those two got to be out of the women cage?

  They are past childbearing age.

  True. And creepy.

  No dresses or robes.

  This felt like it pleased Lurch, though he still didn’t explain why, nor did he stand down from his hyper alert status. Shan didn’t either. His watchful air seemed to require a response. What did he hope she’d see? Or was that a hope that she didn’t see something? Here, in this place, Shan seemed larger than the setting, too everything for his companions. If they were in competition with these Zelk for meteorites, then the cloak made sense, as did the armament. But why collect automaton parts? Space rocks might have valuable minerals embedded in them, but the automaton parts were fashioned of crude metal. And since they weren’t supposed to exist, they didn’t even have archaeological value. It all felt off somehow. In the face of Shan’s steady stare, Ashe felt a need to say something.

  “It’s very…” Hard to know what descriptive would please Shan. “…serviceable.” The silence felt long and weighted with something. “Really serviceable. In a very serviceable way.”

  Not your best.

  It’s not like it’s pretty. She wanted to ask what his plans for her were, but the power balance was already too weighted his direction. She wanted to cling to him like a little girl and have him tell her it was going to be all right. She wanted him to notice she was a girl and he was a guy. She wanted him to like her. She wanted the impossible. Always had, which was how she’d ended up on the butt end of the unknown with nothing to point and shoot.

  The impossible just takes longer.

  And I’m an Aspridion.

  “Our monitoring systems have registered you as hostile. If you attempt to leave or access forbidden areas, you will be immobilized.”

  How was she supposed to know—

  “When you approach a forbidden zone, a yellow field will manifest in front of you. If you persist, it will be followed by red. If you come into contact with red, you will be rendered unconscious. With each infraction, the field will increase in intensity. If you violate the red zones three times, life signs will cease upon contact with the field.”

  Incarceration with benefits and boundaries. It could be worse. Death could be the first option.

  “All members of this expedition contribute. You will be required to contribute.”

  Tell him you will help with cooking.

  I can’t cook. Sure can’t cook with fire. If I could cook. Which I can’t.

  I will assist.

  You can cook? He didn’t have arms, except for hers and he hadn’t used them to cook. Ever.

  I have been hosted by a fine chef. A pause. You need sustenance, little one.

  Oh, right. “I can assist with the cooking if you’ll direct me to the—”

  Kitchen, Lurch put in when she paused.

  “—kitchen,” Ashe finished. She looked at her grubby hands, then held them up so he could see the palms. “I should probably wash up first, though.”

  Shan’s eyes narrowed to blade points. Had she surprised him with her request? She could only hope. A long pause later, he nodded.

  “I shall require you to share what you know about the artifacts.”

  She’d already shared most of what she knew, but it didn’t feel smart to tell him that. She nodded in what she hoped was a noncommittal manner.

  “Calendria will assist.”

  At his signal, one of the women approached, stopping at about the same distance Shan’s boys had kept during their hike. She could sort of see why they might have a no touching policy for guys, but why girls? This Calendria was older than Ashe or the boys. On Earth she’d be maybe late 40’s. Still attractive, she was blond and had an air of competent confidence that was at odds with the-incarcerate-for-their-protection Shan had talked about. Maybe they didn’t mind “spending” older females? Or did their presence indicate a low-risk operation? And if it was low risk, why cloak and shields and heavily armed guys?

  When Shan performed a terse introduction, Calendria nodded with the placidity of a cow, but her assessing gaze reminded Ashe of the scientists back on the Time Base.

  The tent Calendria led her to was, thankfully, less rustic inside. It had a floor that looked and sounded wooden. It boasted the basic sanitation facilities, plus several dressing areas separated from the main room by curtains. From a small cabinet, Calendria produced attire similar to hers and a packet containing some small, oddly shaped items of unknown purpose.

  “You are somewhat smaller than I or Devorna, but it should fit well enough.”

 
; “Thank you.”

  Ashe thought she did a good job of sounding neutral, but Calendria flushed a bit. “The Commander thought you might appreciate a change of attire.”

  He wants to examine your suit.

  Kind of insulting he thought she hadn’t figured that out. Hoped he handled disappointment well cause he was gonna be. Not that she didn’t want or need a change of attire. A tech-blown suit was not comfortable. And how had the Commander told Calendria she needed new clothes? Did they have some kind of covert communication system? Be very cool if they did. Ashe liked covert almost as much as stuff that shot bad guys and their minions.

  “How thoughtful.” Ashe produced the fake smile, saw this scientist note it. She took the packet, turning it to study its contents, too weary to wholly conceal that it puzzled her.

  “Fresh soap, shampoo, a hair comb, and of course, a toothbrush and toothpaste.”

  “Right.” Lurch had to explain everything but the comb. Ashe blinked, then smiled politely. “How quaint. And kind,” she hastened to add, before Lurch could chide her. “Very kind. Really…kind.”

  “Quaint?” Calendria’s scientist look went turbo. “How do you brush your teeth?”

  Ashe blinked. The swing between high and no-tech was a bit much. “They are self cleaning.”

  “And is your hair self combing?”

  “No, but I usually use my fingers,” she admitted, fluttering the free hand’s worth of them as a sort of demo. An Earth hair stylist who specialized in vintage hair design had showed her the technique, since carrying a purse was not an option for a time tracker. And even when she could, weapons were always a higher priority than hair combs.

  Calendria’s attention, not unnaturally, shifted to Ashe’s hair. Since she had headgear hair, Ashe was unsurprised when Calendria reflected Ashe’s mock-neutral tone back at her with an, “Interesting.”

  If Calendria had more questions, she kept them to herself. “Shower, washing basin, and commode are through there. You’ll find towels on a shelf. There are robes in the changing areas. Dirty towels and robes are stowed in the laundry basket there when you finish.”

  Ashe studied this laundry basket with some interest. It seemed very small to be a laundry unit for so extensive an encampment. “Interesting. May I examine?”

  Calendria blinked. Twice. “Of course.”

  Ashe approached it and waited.

  “You lift the lid,” Calendria said, her tone hitting somewhere between amazed and dry.

  “Oh.” Ashe lifted the lid and found it about half filled with discarded attire. “How do you trigger the mechanism?” When Calendria did not respond right away, Ashe looked at her. Found her blinking again.

  “One of my staff removes the clothes to the laundry when it gets full.”

  Ashe decided to return the blinking favor. And it gave her time to think of a not rude response. She hoped. “Oh.”

  You should have thought a bit longer.

  I didn’t call it quaint.

  It was implied.

  She began to understand the challenges of first contact. In some ways, it was much harder than Time repair. After another pause, Ashe produced a smile she worked to erase incredulity from, not easy at her current level of depletion. She lowered the lid on the primitive device. “I will be sure to deposit my used bath items in this useful place when I am finished.” Better?

  He didn’t say meh, but it was also implied. Lurch was so pissy sometimes.

  “This is a temporary camp,” Calendria said, her tone trending defensive.

  “But it has plumbing,” Ashe pointed out. She did not have to manufacture approval for the plumbing. Her family had a strange fixation about plumbing that stretched back generations. Her Uncle Istah was the Leader of Plumbing in several star systems. His intergalactic advertisements were legendary for their poor taste and overuse of himself and unattractive family members.

  Calendria rubbed her temple, as if it pained her.

  Now would be a good time to stop talking and try out the plumbing.

  “If you will excuse me, I will avail myself of this comfortable robe before exploring the plumbing.” At her nod, Ashe slid behind the curtain of one of the changing cubicles. She set the toiletries aside and studied the clothing, curious despite a butt load of tired. Loose pants, loose top made of something soft and flexible. Be a welcome change from the second skin of her uniform. She fingered the top.

  Fabric. Cloth.

  I knew that. Sort of. Her mother had some family antiques that felt similar when touched. Thoughts of her mother weren’t productive to good order and discipline, so she pushed those away and dropped the clothing on the bench. Felt a wave of weary that almost had her dropping down with it. Tired didn’t explain what she was, not anymore. She’d passed through it some time previously on her way to totally slammed. Can you retract my suit? Not a huge surprise when nothing happened. Don’t tell me.

  He didn’t, let his silence do it for him. The bench beckoned again. With a resolution that rather surprised, she turned from it. She didn’t want to get shot again, but there was at least one function she needed to do, and couldn’t, with the suit in place. She sighed, edged the curtain aside.

  Calendria had settled in front of a small vanity, her back to the mirror. “Is something more amiss?”

  That sounded a bit…something. Not quite bitchy, but on the way? Ashe didn’t frown, but felt it might also be implied. “My release mechanism for my uniform is stuck.” Calendria’s eyes widened, puzzled making a come back as she studied the suit, as if searching for this release mechanism. “I was wondering if you could set your weapon to low stun and, well, shoot me?”

  Now her eyes got so wide it looked like they might pop out of the sockets or something equally unpleasant.

  “Shoot you?”

  “I need power. Energy. When Cadir shot me, my headgear retracted, so I’m thinking another stun shot will power the mechanism long enough to get it to release.”

  She is definitely a scientist, Lurch put in as curiosity went turbo in her expression.

  What bothered Ashe is how quickly she pulled her weapon.

  She is very eager to shoot me.

  Lurch could have listed all the people who felt the same, but he did not, which made a nice change.

  “Low stun, right?” Ashe reminded her, when she didn’t check the settings.

  Calendria’s smile looked almost natural. “It’s always set on low inside the camp. Where should I…”

  Ashe turned her back, indicating a spot low on her back. “Low center is best.”

  A pause. “It will hurt.” Calendria did not sound regretful, though she did manage to tamp down anticipation to just a thread running through her tone.

  “Yes.” Ashe had not been shot any time it did not hurt. It seemed implied in the word. There was even a family mantra: don’t get shot. She didn’t sigh, because it would interfere with bracing—which didn’t help. She held back a yelp, but not the gasp, the sizzling sound lingering in the air for several seconds as pain spread out from the spot, though her suit once again managed to disperse some of the effect. “Thanks.”

  “Glad to be of assistance.”

  Ashe didn’t snort. She didn’t have the energy for a good snort and refused to settle for a lame one. She ducked back behind the curtain, not eager for Calendria to see her suit retract—or for her to see her knickers. For several seconds she thought it hadn’t worked, and then, with a hiss, it continued from where it had stopped, moving toward the retraction zone just above the elbow of her right arm, coming to an ominous sounding stop, though it did form into a deceptively simple, silver band on her upper arm. It might have retracted its last. With the suit’s retreat, the cleavage went away—pity that—and her knickers, also silver and lightweight—though lacking the deflective properties of her suit—became visible. They clung damply to her sweat soaked skin, but they would dry quickly upon contact with oxygenated air and could be adjusted for basic bodily functions. She slid
on the robe, grabbed the packet of toiletries, and stepped out just as Shan swept in, his gaze scanning the room, both hands wrapped around his drawn weapon, which was pointed at the ground, but at an angle that could be raised easily.

  Ashe froze, not anxious to get shot again, particularly without the deflective properties of her suit in place, not to mention Lurch hadn’t been able to erase the pain from the last shot, because he was as out of juice as she was.

  “Why did you discharge your weapon?” he snapped at Calendria.

  “My uniform’s release mechanism was stuck,” Ashe put in before Calendria could speak. He half frowned, and then he got it. She saw it in the slight widening of his eyes, followed by a sharp narrowing. Note to self: don’t underestimate this guy. His gaze slid past her, to the dressing area she’d just left. He wanted her suit all right. What would he do when he didn’t find it? It wasn’t a happy thought, so she decided not to dwell or wait around to find out, not with his weapon still deployed. She pointed to the sanitation cubicle. “If you’ll excuse me?”

  Shan stared at her for what felt like a long time before giving a sharp nod. With impressive restraint, he didn’t look at Calendria, who was smart enough to stay put until Ashe closed the door between them. Ashe ignored the pad of footsteps crossing to the changing space, Calendria’s, she decided. Too light to be Shan’s, though he didn’t clomp around.

  Would she be baffled? Frustrated? She was a scientist. A little mystery would be good for her character. And Shan? Probably good for his, too, though she had a feeling he wouldn’t agree.

  She visited the commode while she still could and found it much like the ones of her time. Interesting? Or predictable? She thought for a moment and decided it was predictable. Not a lot to work with there, even for a family in love with plumbing. Eager to get clean, she shed the robe, hanging it on a hook, then activated the cycle, shocked when real water sprayed out the nozzle. Even on the Time Base, which was surrounded by water, they used a cleaning mist for sanitation. It also explained the need for the bar of soap. She stuck her arm in, water beating against her skin like a heavy—though warm—rain. The feel of the warm water felt surprisingly good when she eased under the stream—though it was also a painful reminder of how far she was from everything familiar.