The Lost (The Maauro Chronicles Book 3)

by Edward McKeown

  “A part of him will always belong to you,” she says. “I had thought that I would have to share him with a human female, as he must share me with a Nekoan mate. I was prepared for that, sexual possessiveness is not part of Nekoan culture, even something of a minor sin. But I did not realize how much of his soul I must share with you.”

  “Did you not think he would love the human woman he might father children with?” I am not dizzy, not capable of it, but the overdrive and conflicts running over my quantum pathways induce an analogue of that feeling.

  “My bad, this time. I sometimes see Wrik as a Nekoan without a tail. I didn’t realize that was something underlying his refusal to consider children with his own kind. You have to remember Wrik is the first human I ever met. I didn’t plan to fall in love with him. I didn’t realize how hard this would be.”

  “You have regrets?” I ask. I am upset and barely able to keep my thoughts ordered. I think many hundreds of times faster than a biological, but not when emotion-laden information is to be processed.

  She looks away. “There’s another reason I’m not going. It will be easier, given how Wrik feels about my need for a Nekoan partner, if he’s gone while I contract for my children. I plan a short term contract; odds are good my partner will be gone by the time you return.”

  She has both avoided my question and dragged me over more quaking ground. “Will he?” I counter. “Are you now so sure that you do not wish a male entirely of your own?”

  Jaelle gives a short harsh laugh. “On that you may rely, Kit-sister. I want no Nekoan male lording over me and mine. Too many still act as if it was the old days when they actually owned us. We females came up with marriage contracts when we acquired political power. The males thought it was a great deal, with them no longer responsible for our upkeep. Took them a few generations to realize it was the basis of independence for us.”

  I walk over to the railing, placing my hands on it, staring at the spaceport beyond.

  “Maauro,” Jaelle says. “Have I … are you all right?”

  “No, I am not all right,” I return. “I am confused. My network is stressed with new factors reordering things without either my permission or consultation. My actions, even when well-intended, have consequences that multiply out of my control.”

  “Welcome to the world of the living. I told you once that I would never again deny you were a living being. I didn’t say it would always be fun or fair.”

  “I have tried to regulate my relationship with you to minimize disruptions between you and Wrik. I have disastrously failed.”

  To my bewilderment, Jaelle walks up behind me and places her arms around me pressing me back to her. Her chin rests on the back of my head. “No, Maauro. It’s not your fault, certainly less you than Wrik and I, who were born biological and maybe should have known better. The bitter irony is the Wrik I fell for, is the one you helped rebuild after he ran away from the battle he still won’t tell me about. He can’t help but love you for what you did for him.”

  “I do not believe I will ever succeed in balancing my relationship with you.”

  “Stop expecting order and balance in the universe, Kit-sister, it’s all about random collisions out here, stars and people both. We are not meant to be perfect.”

  “I am upset that you do not like me. That you are angry with me.”

  “I’m angry with the situation, not with you.”

  “How can that possibly make sense when I am the cause of the situation?”

  “It just does,” she kisses the back of my head. “I’m sorry it hurts sometimes. You just promise to bring both of you back. That will suffice for now.”

  “Thank you,” I manage to her departing back. I am not sure I could move if I needed to. I stand at the rail, slowly cooling down, both literally and metaphorically. I remain there, the wind blows and toward the early morning hours, rain falls. These things affect me no more than the spacecraft standing exposed on the tarmac in front of me. There is no reason for me to remain, yet really no reason for me to be anywhere else. I spend some nights with Wrik and Jaelle, but clearly this is inappropriate tonight. I have other acquaintances, but none I can call friends.

  On a world one hundred and five light years from here, I had made friends with three teens. I had believed they had accepted me as another youth, but the girl had almost immediately realized my true nature. She and the two boys had, in the reflexively conspiratorial fashion of human teens, kept my secret. Yet it was dangerous for them to know me and my time on Stauver had been brief, if happy. I found myself missing their simple friendship, the unquestioning nature of their acceptance. Things in my network are far more complicated. I began to wonder for the first time if I should consider adding to my network, yet would that not only give more chances for endless complications?

  The sun comes up. I do not move. Some firebirds and a floating jelly plant settle near me, taking me for mere statuary, if they make any note of me at all. I am in a peculiar state, lacking volition to move. I find myself examining and reevaluating the time since Wrik found me. I still hesitate to examine the memories that I gathered while in touch with the Ribisan Predictor. That unfortunate silicon being, more dead then alive, had tried to persuade me to incorporate what was left of him in my being, liberating him from the massive computer sarcophagus the Ribisans were using to try and preserve his ability to see the futures of the multi-verse. I had no way of knowing which of the future tracks I was on, if I had, in fact, seen this one at all.

  A door opens behind me and I know relief. Something will now happen to end this fugue state that has imprisoned me. I sense it is Wrik before I even turn. The birds and the jelly plant take to the air, their own rest disturbed.

  Wrik’s face is drawn and I know that I am not the only one who had a difficult night. He walks up to me and leans on the rail, looking at the port. Vehicles come and go and some people walk in secured areas. In the far distance, a ship rumbles and lifts off. We watch it in silence, as I do not dare to speak.

  “Jaelle’s not coming on the mission,” Wrik says.

  “That is not a surprise,” I say carefully.

  “No, I guess not.”

  “Wrik? I fear to ask but I must know if Jaelle is still networked to us.”

  He sighs. “Yes. In fact she got rather hot when I asked if she was ending our consortship, accused me of questioning her loyalty. She doesn’t always see staying together as quite the same as being together.”

  “I do not understand.”

  “Me neither. As near as I can tell for her, it’s like an orbit, we can be at aphelion or perihelion, but so long as the orbit remains, she is ok with it. In fact while pregnant she expects there to be a lot of distance. A human woman would regard that as betrayal.

  “That’s a relief…in a way. I must merely accept that our relationship survives.” He sighs then adds. “She says that she’ll go to Earth with us if we go there.”

  “Earth?” I question.

  “It’s where Bexlaw launched from. It seems as good a spot as any to start. We can at least select from the hyperspace routes out of Sol System.”

  “Very well,” I said. The logic is questionable but I do not feel inclined to debate. It’s no worse than any idea I had.

  “That’s good news. She has trade she can do on Earth and we won’t have the time dilation of the voyage from Star Central to Earth to separate us.”

  I had not considered that. Wrik is cleverer than I this morning. I must get hold of myself and begin functioning properly again.

  “We should inform Director Rainhell,” I begin, “that we will undertake her mission.”

  “Yes,” Wrik replied. “However, I think I will let Jaelle set the prices.”

  I give a slight smile. “What? Abandoning commerce?”

  “In this case,” he smiles back. “I can’t see myself bargaining with Shasti
Rainhell.”

  I straighten up from the rail. The universe has slid back into recognizable order for me. My network continues, even if bent in ways I did not anticipate. We have a mission and I have a purpose. It is time to move.

  Chapter 4

  We return to the office. Dusko and Jaelle are there. It is quiet, but not tense, decisions having already been made. There is much to be done before we can pull out of all our arrangements and undertake the mission. Even more because Jaelle will continue to actively run our trade business. Hours are spent on this, and lunch is eaten at desks.

  Before I planned to make our call to Rainhell, a signal impinges on my awareness of the Star Central’s network. It is a message in a microburst. What is remarkable is that there is a piece of Infestor code in it. The piece of code, I conclude, is gibberish, though I recognize its source. The code was in use on the asteroid belt base where I languished for 50,000 years. Someone has used this, knowing that I would immediately detect it. While I no longer must follow the programmed imperatives of my existence as an M-7 combatant, the message commands my attention.

  I isolate the message and extract it from the network, back tracing it and eliminating all signs of it that I can access. I open the microburst; it contains a message from Candace Deveraux. “Meet me at the Denlenn contemplation garden near their trade building at 2030 hours. Bring Wrik if you must, but no one else. Do not be detected or followed. CD.”

  This is a startling development. One of the senior officers of Confed Intelligence has taken extraordinary means to meet us surreptitiously. I consider the possible meanings of this. One thing is clear to me: not everyone wants us to search for Maximillian.

  I turn to Jaelle. “I find that I must do some work related to our commission,” I say. “I will not be able to help you with the cargo selection for our voyage.”

  She frowns. “I suspected something might come up. Let me guess, you’ll need Wrik’s help.”

  “Correct. May we leave the financial arrangements with Rainhell to you?”

  “Looks like a late night at the office for me,” she said. “Is anything dangerous going on?”

  “I do not yet know.”

  “Be careful, Kit-sister.”

  I hurry downstairs to find Wrik and advise him of Candace’s contact. “Not a lot of time,” he replies. “Especially if we want to get there and check the place out before she arrives.”

  “Correct. I suggest we arm ourselves and set out now.”

  Wrik obtains a stunner. I leave my armspac behind; the weapon is too large to escape notice. I will rely on my onboard weaponry. I meet Wrik out front when he brings up a nondescript aircar we keep for such eventualities. Traffic will slow us and I estimate an hour to reach the gardens. We set off for our destination with the car on automatic within the city’s zone control. I find it annoyingly slow, but I do enjoy the view of Star City.

  Wrik also looks out the window. “Such a new city, I can’t believe they couldn’t come up with a better name for it.”

  “It does seem generic,” I agree.

  “There’s your answer, the name didn’t belong to anyone and didn’t seem to favor anyone so, Star City for the city and Star Central for the planet.”

  We settle in and enjoy the sights until the aircar slides between two large towers that glow like huge emeralds set on their ends. We are near the Denlenn embassy and the structures began to reflect their esthetic, lower buildings with more natural materials and the emphasis on beauty over practicality that threads through their culture. We settle on the roadway and automatics guide us to a large vehicle parking lot near the luminescent gardens. Even late in the evening, they are an attraction and Star City never truly sleeps. Several of the species residing here prefer the lower light of the evenings.

  We park the car. Wrik clips a com and earpiece to his jacket. Mine are built in.

  “Any idea what we’re looking for?” he asks.

  “No. Stroll the grounds. Look for suspicious activity. Candace will be here soon.”

  An hour of walking the gardens, with its miniature waterfalls, fountains, shimmerwillows and moonflowers, had shown nothing other than the usual couples out for a romantic walk and parties of Denlenns admiring the beauty of the place. Wrik and I meet up near the pagoda-like structure near the entrance. Though no one has staked out our meeting place, I remain wary.

  “Wrik, precede me into the garden. Remain alert.”

  He gives me a curious look but asks no questions, walking ahead to pass under the ornate wooden gate and back into the gardens beyond to await Candace.

  I fade back to a corner across the plaza fronting the gardens and freeze into a silent immobility that no living being can duplicate, in a darkened nook. For added protection, I transform all my outer surfaces to a matte black.

  Visitors and passersby stroll by me, some going into the gardens and others wandering out of my sight. No one notices me. If they did, I would likely be taken for some part of the garden decorations. I fully extend my sensors and enter the surveillance cameras and other sensors in the area. It takes only a few seconds to spot Candace Deveraux. She alights from an aircab, well short of the gardens. Her movements are alert and wary. I realize that she is alone; no security detail is in the immediate area.

  Candace is a senior intelligence officer, not an agent. These actions tell me that she wishes her movements and contacts to be unknown to her own service. This implies that she is either in some disfavor in her organization, or worse, that she has a rival for control of that organization and that their interests do not align. Given our recent contact, this further implies a threat to Lost Planet.

  After she examines the area, she walks toward our rendezvous. Five minutes later Candace walks past me, meters away, but she does not spot my dark form in its sheltered alcove. My precautions prove a sound investment. Candace is being followed, despite her own efforts. A female Dua-Denlenn trails her at a respectful distance. My sensors detect a particle beam weapon, a knife and—what concerns me more—a hypo-spray. The latter could be used to introduce a number of difficult to detect poisons.

  I consider my tactical options. I return to my normal coloring, though I tone down the red panels on my jumpsuit and step out of the alcove into the light. My form-fitting coveralls are common among young people and I should remain unnoticed as I stalk my quarry.

  Candace pauses before walking under the gate, scanning her back trail. The Dua-Denlenn has paused, pretending to examine merchandise in a nearby storefront. The window allows her to surreptitiously watch Candace without being in direct line of sight. I notice that the Dua-Denlenn has removed a hat and reversed her jacket since I first detected her, small changes but effective at throwing off an observer.

  As Candace turns back toward the garden arch, the Dua-Denlenn moves, she is scanning the area and this decides me. She is considering how many potential witnesses there are as a prelude to an attack. I close in, also wary of pedestrians, both for fear of collateral damage and witnesses. The Dua-Denlenn pauses at the gate to the vast garden beyond. Her eyes slide over me as she scans around, then they snap back to me in alarm. I am recognized, or she would not have grabbed for her particle beam weapon.

  I accelerate to combat speed; close the distance between us before her biological reflexes can even allow her to touch her weapon. Then I am holding her gun arm in my right hand.

  “If you struggle or cry out,” I say softly, “I will severely injure you.”

  Her pupilless eyes stare into mine and she remains very still then slowly nods.

  I look around. A couple pass by twenty meters away, but they are engrossed in each other. A Morok with a briefcase notices us, but as no struggle has ensued, he elects to mind his own business.

  I relieve the Dua-Denlenn of her weapons and then walk her over to a nearby banister on a little-used side staircase. Checking to see that no one is watc
hing, I take the banister and bend the metal around the Dua-Denlenn’s wrist. She gasps in shock as I tie her to the staircase.

  “Unless you wish to gnaw off your hand,” I advise. “You will remain here until I return for you. You seem to know what I am. Realize the impossibility of escaping me. Your continued survival will depend on your level of cooperation.”

  Internally, I open a channel to Dusko and advise him of where we are and what has transpired. “Obtain a stunner. Come here and I will release the prisoner to you for interrogation.”

  “Do you care how?” he asks.

  “I do not, but Wrik will, so confine your effort to bribes or intimidation. She is one of your kind.”

  “Excellent,” he replies, “one can rent one of my people, but we are difficult to buy.”

  I ignore my bound prisoner and make my way to the gate. I pretended not to discover the female Dua-Denlenn’s hidden communication device in the hope that she will use it, allowing me to hack into whatever network she contacts. However, she makes no effort to do so, either wise to my stratagem or too cowed to attempt it.

  While the grounds are large and broken up by groves, hedges and small ponds, I quickly locate Wrik and Candace. They are sitting in a miniature wooden temple by a mirrored pond.

  “Where have you been?” Candace demands as I sit on a stone bench near them.

  “Eliminating the person sent to kill you,” I reply.

  “What?” they both say, peering nervously into the darkness.

  “The area is now secure,” I say. I quickly inform them of the events of the last few minutes. “Dusko is en route to pick her up. Given the circumspect nature of our meeting, I assume you wish us to handle the interrogation and detention of this individual. Clearly your position is in considerable jeopardy.”

  “God,” Candace muttered. “How much do you know, Maauro?”

  “Only what is obvious. You slipped away from your security detail, which means you cannot trust it. You contact us in person, meaning your communications are monitored and this risky adventure is the most secure means available to you. You have been a great power in the intelligence community, meaning that parties of greater power outside your organization are constraining you.”