Kicking Ashe

by Pauline Baird Jones

  Her situation was precarious, but nothing could be done until Lurch repaired her suit, assuming it could be repaired. And if they did get it online, could she navigate the time stream without her time senses?

  Others do it all the time. As far as we are aware, no one else in the Service has senses like yours. It is also possible, if your senses recover, that you could enter the stream without your suit fully functioning.

  Not for long. The Service had developed the suits because time in the stream without protection was dangerous. And could she find her way home without the beacon sniffer built into her suit? Lurch had no answer for that, nor did he have a theory about how Shan might react when he failed to secure her suit. Even if he took a more forceful approach, he couldn’t get the suit without her cooperation. A pity he didn’t know that. She now had a much better understanding of the meaning of the ancient saying about rocks and hard places.

  * * * *

  “She is a valuable acquisition.”

  Bile rose in Shan’s throat. Did she really feel this way or did she test him? He breathed in and out, and again before turning to meet her gaze.

  Calendria—who understood the parameters of his dilemma as well as he did—knew better than to show pity, but he caught a whiff of it from her despite the privacy distance between them.

  “She is—”

  A living, breathing human? He did not speak the words, though he’d known Calendria for many seasons. Her family and his had partner claimed many times, though she was not a direct relative like Bana.

  “—trouble.”

  “Yes.” He could not deny this truth.

  “Your squad—”

  Shan shifted. Too many home truths too close together did that to him.

  “I doubt their inhibitors have ever been tested this severely.” Amusement filtered into her tone and scent. “Or yours.”

  He didn’t react to the semi-taunt, other than a slight rise of his brows, as if he did not know of what she spoke.

  She sobered. “You can not protect her, Commander.”

  And if he was inclined to try, consider what he could unleash on his family, her eyes added, though he was relieved she did not speak the words. He had heard women were more compassionate, more tender in their feelings. He saw neither in her eyes. Of course, he’d also heard women were practical—that men became less so with the inhibitors turned down. Perhaps they were correct. His squad had certainly lost cohesion when her suit retracted—he halted dangerous thoughts. Despite the safe zone, it was still possible for Calendria to pick up the scent of desire from him.

  What was it about the alien that scrambled his thinking, that so impacted the inhibitor? If this were what a woman did to a man’s brain, would he not be wise to avoid partnering? The idea had appeal. He did not wish to give up space travel. It was dirt side that felt unnatural, constricting. Wrong.

  “Perhaps you won’t have to worry about her.”

  Shan looked at her, his frown too quick to stop.

  “She looked ill.”

  “The scans showed no illness.” They had recorded she was in need of sustenance and rest. Bana would take care of the sustenance issue. The rest would come when night fell. Otherwise she was remarkably healthy for one who appeared to be a warrior. Not even a scar. Did that make her good or lucky?

  “Are we sure our scans know enough alien biology to know?”

  “Internally she is no different from you or I.” Facts discerned without vivisection or sedation. That they were also heresy could be a problem if Calendria decided to share them with someone in the Authority. Of course, he could also report her waste of resources on the fallings. Idle study was not encouraged, nor supported.

  “Did the scan tell where she came from? How she got here?”

  “It does not read minds.” More’s the pity. Did she know about the Zalistria? Was she involved in its disappearance? If he shared this with Calendria, would it ease her concerns or give her more to report when they returned to Keltinar?

  “She’s young.”

  Implied in her tone were all the questions Shan had and more. How had she arrived here? Who had sent her? Who would have so little care for a young, fertile female? Why had her arrival unleashed flashes of things, memories that couldn’t be, recollections just out of reach that felt more right than now? Why did he feel a need to protect her that exceeded his touch pledge? Was it even possible to protect her without destroying his family?

  The impossible just takes longer.

  Behind him, the water shut off, deepening the unnatural silence that had reigned since their return from the fallings collection with Ashe. An air of waiting hung heavy in the warm, still air. He could boost the air filtration to ease the heat and damp, but there was no way to filter out the unease. It wasn’t solely about Ashe. His unease felt more since he’d brought her into camp, but he’d felt it before, arrived knowing that something was wrong. That’s why he’d set the filtration closer to the planet’s temperature. Their cloak was good, but the Zelk had found a camp once by scanning for temperature variations. There should be no Zelk in system, but his instincts felt trouble close. Did not mean a Zelk problem. The strange fallings qualified as big trouble without the Zelk in the mix. The unknown could be as dangerous as the known.

  “What’s she doing here?”

  He hesitated, but it could not be kept secret when his squad already knew. “She claims she is a Garradian.”

  “A Garradian.” Calendria sounded shaken. “Is that possible?”

  “I do not know. She believes it.” It was the only known way to beat a scent parsing, if the person believed they spoke the truth, though it didn’t always work. A good scent parser could pick out traces of conflict between the conscious and unconscious mind.

  “It,” Calendria hesitated, “won’t save her from the Authority.”

  He’d touched her in sight of his team, placed her under his protection to protect his team, but he felt the binding power of the action, and beyond that an imperative to protect her. As if she mattered in a way beyond conscious thought. What he’d done was more binding than a partner matching ceremony, which could be nullified by mutual agreement, though it wasn’t an obligation the Authority would respect or honor. Could he save her? Could he save himself? The question surprised him. Save him from what? But he knew. He wanted to be free from the life he did not want, the life that did not fit. He did not want to be trapped dirt side by a suitable partner. He wanted…more.

  THREE

  Ashe stayed in the shower until it began to have a strange effect on her skin. The streams of water hitting her, the sound of droplets beating the wall had been an appropriate accompaniment to her scattered thoughts and it soothed the aches Lurch lacked resources to ease. She stared at her wrinkled fingers in vague puzzlement, then turned the water off. Her back against the warmed surface of the shower, she snagged a towel and dabbed at the water running down her face, too tired to do more. I am sorry.

  For what?

  For getting you into this.

  Into what?

  We’re prisoners of the guy you love to hate. She half-heartedly rubbed her wet hair, not averse to the cooling effect of the water running down her body. I was so sure I was better than them all, so sure I could save the universe.

  I think you did save the universe. With some help.

  If we did it, how come the Time Base hasn’t sent someone in to retrieve us?

  Saving the universe did not necessarily save the Time Base.

  But wouldn’t you know? You’re the one who did it. Even if you changed your mind, wouldn’t you know?

  Not even I understand how Time works. In the pause she felt him thinking. Perhaps we’re here for a reason.

  What possible reason? Besides a big, huge accident caused by their big, huge bomb, she didn’t add.

  If Time sent us here, then time will reveal the reason.

  She hated it when he turned Zen—she had to pause to get a definition of the word. Did s
he believe him because she wanted to believe there was some cosmic connection between her and Shan? It was stupid, juvenile even. He looked at her like he wanted to chew her up and spit her out. She needed to keep her distance or she was going to do something stupid—she huffed at herself—before doing something else stupid.

  As long as she could remember, all she’d wanted to do was be in the Time Service. She did not remember when the feeling had grown in her. Perhaps it had always been there, like Lurch. When she turned fifteen Earth years, her father had given in and let her join. All the time, all the training, all the missing seasons with her family, the life she hadn’t lived. Was it worth it? If they’d done it, then yes, it had been worth it, but was it wrong to wish for…more?

  You are weary, your resources depleted. With rest and food, your optimism will return.

  Optimism. Usually he called it attitude and wanted her to lose it. Couldn’t accuse him of kicking her when she was down. She dragged on the robe and stepped up the basin, delaying the moment she must face these people again by trying this teeth brushing system. Odd and inefficient, she decided, as she rejected the comb and finger fluffed her hair. How ironic that the first man to ever try to get her out of her clothes wanted the uniform. Would he try to take it by force? The quiet drip, drip of water gave no answers. She stepped out, a bit surprised to find the room empty. She dumped the towel in the low-tech laundry basket, pausing to make sure it didn’t do anything more than just sit there. This was indeed an odd, primitive place, even if it was merely a camp.

  She’d done something called a camping trip with some Earth cousins when she was very small. Uncle Istah had a portable plumping unit he wished them to try. In her memory, it had been deemed most satisfactory, though her mother might have been trying to be polite. Her plumbing standards were very high. Ashe did not ponder her mother’s reaction to this place because she knew it would fall in negative range and because she wanted her mother like a little girl. Wouldn’t take much to have her fetal and sucking her thumb.

  Tired continued to drag at her as she padded to the cubicle that held the borrowed clothing. Her knickers dried during the short walk, so there was no hindrance to dressing, if she didn’t count her utter and complete exhaustion. She sank to the bench, pulled on the shirt and got the pants up to her knees before she ran out of steam. The curtain wavered a bit and she blinked, trying and failing to clear her vision.

  You need to get moving. We need sustenance.

  Sustenance. Right. Give me a minute. Her lids drifted down…

  If you sleep now, you will not waken.

  Maybe that’s for the best. We shouldn’t be here. We should be…somewhere that isn’t here.

  What if we are exactly where we should be?

  You’re just saying that to give me a reason to get up and go eat. It kind of worked because her lids lifted, though only partly. The curtain hung straight and still, silence inside and out. What if everyone had gone and left her alone in this place? She felt alone. The smell of the water and the soap she’d used lingered in the air. Her mouth felt fresher after the toothpaste, though that might be because her tongue was desperate to taste something. The structure felt warmer with the addition of moisture from her shower.

  Someone in the last time line betrayed the Keltinarian people, betrayed him.

  Surprise straightened her mushy spine. The Constilinium. Her brain replayed images of the red energy trails staining the time stream in places it shouldn’t have been.

  Someone supplied it to the bad guy.

  Would have been nice to know who the bad guy was before getting hosed by the time tsunami. But if we fixed time, that shouldn’t matter.

  Time isn’t—

  —tidy. She’d gotten the memo about a hundred million times. On the other side of exhausted, she knew that food and rest would help. Which meant standing up, pulling up her pants and facing this world once again. And if she didn’t do it soon, Lurch was liable to over-deplete himself trying to help her. What doesn’t kill us makes us strong. She braced her hands on the bench and pushed, was a bit surprised when she made it upright, pulling her pants up at the same time, so she wouldn’t have to take on gravity again by bending down. She slid her feet into the sandals waiting under the bench, used the faint glow of virtue to get out of the dressing cubicle, rode it all the way to the tent flap. It might as well have been a wall, but luckily fingers not hers pulled the flap back.

  Calendria peered inside. “Are you well, Lady?”

  It was easier to nod, not that easy to step out into the wider compound. Everything looked a bit distant, a bit indistinct at the edges, though she did note that Shan was not in sight. That should have been relief, but he was the only familiar face in this place, which left her conflicted instead of relieved. From the clarity on the other side of tired, she realized that Shan wasn’t really familiar and that she not only wasn’t at the top of her game, but the bottom of her game was a fading goal. Was she lost from time, not just in time? If she were, then there would be no one riding the stream to her rescue.

  We will rescue ourselves.

  The bracing assertion helped as Calendria led her to the tent spouting smoke, once again holding the tent flap for her. Ashe was glad, because the walk across the compound left her upper lip beaded with sweat at the strain of trying to appear all right, of trying to walk like she wasn’t about to fall on her face. Inside they passed a couple of long tables with bench seating, and went into a food preparation area. In a distant sort of way she noted a large, black stove, more large wooden tables and shelves cluttered with, according to Lurch, cooking pans and utensils and other items essential to primitive food preparation. There was also a huge sink area and other shelves with plates, bowls and cups needed in the consumption of foodstuffs. The mix of permanent and not permanent felt a bit odd, but then just about everything here felt odd, so Ashe wasn’t sure what could be learned from it all.

  In front of one of the tables, stood a woman who appeared older than Calendria by a good bit. Her face showed lines, her eyes some wisdom. She stared at Ashe, a slight frown pulling her brows together. She shrugged as if shaking something off before moving toward them.

  “This is Bana,” Calendria said.

  Inside her, Lurch twitched, as if the name meant something to him. He rumbled a bit. You can’t condemn people for something they haven’t done yet and might not do in this time line. He shouldn’t need the reminder, but they were both off their game. The rumbling eased some. Felt a bit like a case of the flu incoming before it faded away. If Lurch had run into this Bana in the alternate reality, then it was possible that Bana felt some genetic memory echo, something her Earth cousins called déjà vu and others attributed to a sort of religious belief called reincarnation—except that Ashe and Bana had not met in that reality.

  She met her.

  Not-so-great grandma, Lurch’s first host, he meant. I have her nose. That’s a pretty slight memory.

  You also have her…aspect, her way of moving, and her spirit.

  Oh. Lurch would know—and know how much that annoyed. She and not-so-great grandma hadn’t exactly hit it off. Ashe pushed those thoughts away while she endured a prolonged inspection by the shrewd Bana—one also conducted from a slight distance. Ashe could kind of understand the don’t-touch-my-gal rule for the guys, but why couldn’t the girls at least shake hands?

  “The Commander tells me you wish to serve here in the kitchen.”

  Wish was a bit strong for what she felt, but she nodded because that was easier than explaining her wish was more a need for food. “I will need some instruction on your foodstuffs and procedures.” That sounded reasonable. And a good out when it became apparent how much she sucked at cooking.

  “I’ll leave you to it, then,” Calendria said. “I’ll see you at eating hour, Lady.”

  “Thank you for your assistance,” Ashe said. It wasn’t unknown for captives to attempt to bond with captors, which might explain why she wanted to cling like a
baby griffon. But as captors, shouldn’t they want to create a bond of trust? Instead, Ashe sensed their desire for distance creating a conflict with their basic humanity. Why didn’t they want to like her, to feel a connection with her, to touch her? She needed someone on her side and she wasn’t sure she could manage it. Of course, best someone-on-her-side would be Shan since he was the guy in charge. Her interactions with him were complicated by her contact with Shan’s other reality self and Lurch’s unexpressed, but vehement issues with the man.

  Left alone with Bana, Ashe stayed upright only because she was stubborn and so was Lurch. It wasn’t just about losing consciousness among strangers, though that was part of it. Darkness tried to press in, but she pushed it back, felt Lurch try to assist, felt how close he was to the edge, too. If you aren’t careful, you’re going to extinguish yourself. Get into holding mode. I’m going to need you to survive this cooking lesson.

  Confirmation she was right came when he withdrew, furling himself into a compact core that made her spine feel like it was melting.

  Bana pushed a stool toward her. “Sit before you fall.”

  Ashe didn’t have anything left to argue, not if she wanted to take the two steps to the stool. She dropped down, grabbing the edge of the table to keep from tumbling off.

  “Thank you.” Darkness wavered at the edges of her field of vision.

  Bana ignored her, passing out of Ashe’s narrowing sightline. Normally Ashe didn’t like having her back to anyone—let alone a stranger—but now it was all she could do to stay conscious. Sounds came to her in waves, ending with a thump as a bowl and spoon thumped down in front of her. A cup of something to drink and a thick slice of bread followed before Ashe could get her fingers around the spoon. It was a relief when Bana sat across from her and began cutting vegetables with a seriously fine knife.