BEYOND THE PALE: ( The Outlander )

by Gil Senan, Senan

  “My uncle has spoken to me of your people’s love of technology,” he said, “but never before did I hear of a man with a computer contained in his own body.”

  “Right here,” said the Major tapping his temple, “Here’s your computer, and this one even works in a cave!”

  “Indeed it does!” said River with a smile, “and whilst asleep and in dreamtime too!” he continued, “I know that with technology, many things are made possible, that computers make men’s work redundant, and that life becomes easier. But what happens to the minds of men if the computer is the centre of all things? Does the mind not idle and become weak?”

  “There will always be weak and idle minded men but it is not computers that make them so. Technology improves the quality of life and … as you say, makes more things possible, especially in the fields of communication, education and health for instance. Without technology”- he gestured towards his feet with a nod- “I wouldn’t be able to walk let alone run.”

  “What happened to your limbs?” asked River who had been curious about the prosthetics and the nature of these previous injuries.

  “Blown clean off in an explosion,” said the Major, with a hint of pride. “An improvised explosive device set by some bad guys. I am lucky to be here at all.”

  “A bomb is technology too is it not? A greedy technology that amplifies violence and diminishes a man’s soul. A man should look his enemy in the face when he strikes.”

  “In the ideal world perhaps, but it’s just not practical in the modern world. Besides, weaponry is all about deterrent. When it works, there’s no need to use them at all. Some things never change my friend; the need for protection has been with us since the dawn of time.”

  “Yes! And the more a man has the greater that need. In my culture, we look to take no more than we need. City Dwellers, it seems to us, have forgotten about the rhythms of nature. Everything we take from the natural world will be replaced and offered up again when it is needed.”

  “I can’t deny that that sounds like an appealing philosophy River, but nature in its raw state is not always reliable...”

  “Much the same as your technology it would seem!”

  The Major smiled and held up his hands in a gesture of mock defeat. -Sharp as a tool this kid! has integrity too- Carlson considered himself a good judge of character and valued rectitude wherever he found it.

  “Speaking of which,” he said, “maybe we should give the transmitter a try outside. What do you say my friend, think you can manage it? I’m no fly weight.”

  “There’s only one way to find out,” said River enjoying his victory and playfully capitalizing on it by echoing the Major’s own words.

  Sliding the stretcher down on to the cave floor, River dragged the Major outside into the warm mid morning sun. Wrestling himself into a sitting position Carlson optimistically, attempted to stand. His right leg buckled instantly under his own weight. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he tried again to engage his optical interface. As he suspected, it was more than just a case of no signal; the computer processor implanted in his leg was either down or disconnected. He assumed the latter, and that the dislocation had more than likely severed the connection. He knew that by now, Rangers would almost certainly have tracked his Rough Rider. The next step would be a grid search using flying drones to scour the area for his signal or a visual contact. It was only a matter of time before they were spotted from above.

  Carlson glanced up at River, trying to assess how he would handle incarceration. He considered briefly whether he might be able to use his influence to process his detention without the usual interrogation and reprogramming that was standard procedure for these kinds of security threats. The chances were more than remote; there were no grey areas for processing Outlanders. Anything outside the citadel’s walls was classed as insecure; he himself, only had security clearance for recreational purposes due to his rank. No Outlander ever returned from the metropolis after arrest. Likewise, anyone absconding from the city in an attempt to relocate outside its boundaries was subject to the same rigorous protocols.

  Would he at least be able to argue the case for non-termination? Even that was doubtful. River would be seen as a high security risk being found with an officer of Carlson’s rank, to say nothing of the poor reflection to his own credentials. His failure to interrogate and execute arrest may well even constitute a disciplinary offense.

  For the first time in his life, Carlson felt unable to square up to the professional responsibilities demanded of him as a security officer. He owed this kid something and was the sort of man who always repaid his debts. Safe in the knowledge that for now his words and actions were beyond the intelligence of the reconnaissance mission, he looked directly at River and addressed him with a resolute tone, conscious of the fact that he had little time left in which to act.

  “You have to go!” he said, “It’s not safe for you to be here when they come for me.” -He paused, uncomfortably struck by the implications of his own words as they sounded in his head- “I cannot guarantee your safety River, or your liberty. You must leave now!”

  River nodded gravely. “I already know this,” he said, feeling gratified by the warning that established a bond of allegiance between them. “As soon as I know that your people are coming for you, I will slip quietly away.”

  “That time is now my friend. I will be compromised too if I am found in your company … I’m a security officer for Christ sakes!”

  River crouched down and held out his hand, “I will watch from a safe distance until you are found.”

  Carlson took the outstretched hand and gripped it tightly. “Thanks for everything River. Be lucky! ... and just so you know, my full name is Major Nathan Carlson.”

  “Luck be with you too Nathan Carlson.”

  River sprinted off at a pace, soon disappearing into the scattered scree at the foot of the cliff face. Scrambling up a steep slope, he made for the narrow mouth of another cave that tunneled inside the ridge by means of a long pathway which eventually gave access to the summit. Here the narrow crest of the ridge provided a good vantage point, allowing him to see clearly in most directions. He scanned the horizon and searched for the location where he had last seen Nathan’s vehicle. It was hard to fix without the sun’s reflected glare on the windscreen to pinpoint its position. He had a keen eye however and knew how to relax his vision to extend its range. He was quite sure; the vehicle was no longer there. This he guessed, would suggest that the search and retrieval operation was already in progress.

  Retracing his steps, River headed back down to the cave via the same route. From its small concealed opening he settled down for the wait. He could see that Nathan was still propped up on his stretcher much as he had left him. After an hour or so, he became aware of a drone drifting across the sky overhead. He had seen these crafts before when running the bounds with Isa. At first it was hardly visible at all and as he watched, he noticed there were others. He saw spheres about six feet in diameter that subtly changed colour as they moved, adapting to the surrounding background. The camouflage was extremely effective and the concealment effect was further compounded by their silent propulsion.

  Tracking the circling motion of their inquisitive paths, River watched as one of the drones stealthily approached the section of the escarpment beneath which Nathan was lying in wait. Feeling gratified that the rescue would soon be complete, River looked back down to the spot where he lay, and in doing so, something caught his eye. “Shit!” he exclaimed out loud, as the unmistakable profile of a lone wolf emerged from behind a boulder. It seemed to be moving in a slow deliberate manner along a path that would almost certainly lead to Nathan. He tried to assess how long that would take whilst hoping and praying that the drone would respond to the threat. He decided he couldn’t afford to wait and see; he had just enough time he estimated, to run back down the slope before the wolf had time to reach Nathan.

  Like a shot from a sling, he launched himself from
the ledge with a flying leap that descended on to a gentler gradient about 12 feet below. His concentration was complete as he hit the ground running, adjusting his centre of gravity to stay on his feet. The talus rock became sharp and angular closer to the base, and he knew from experience that it was often unstable below the transition gradient. With each stride, stones and fine debris bounced off the rock around him, following his downward trajectory en route to the looser scree at the base.

  With Nathan now in his eye line, he raced towards him with his knife already drawn, and ready to fight the wolf. Nathan looked at him with certain alarm in his eyes. River wondered if his look of alarm was because he had seen the wolf. It wasn’t; He had seen something else. River wouldn’t get to face the wolf. Instead he felt a shocking pain in his back, which seemed to empty his lungs of air. With a sharp intake of breath, his whole body stiffened tensing his shoulders to his ears in a convulsive shrug. Losing all motor skills, River dropped to his knees in a helpless swoon and lost consciousness.

  For several long minutes, his confusion was the only thing that felt tangible when he first came to. He felt no pain, nor did he appear to be injured. From the subtle vibrations that were emanating from beneath him, gradually he became aware of motion. In an effort to collect his thoughts, he tried to straighten himself up, and in so doing, he realized with a shock of recognition that he was tethered. In an instant everything fell into place. He was on a low bench within a hard-meshed enclosure; hands cuffed behind his back, a harness restraint rooting him to his seat. From an open aperture close to where he sat, an aerial view of the landscape many feet below, floated by in magnificent technicolor. Never having flown before, he was mesmerized by the view.

  Flying with him, men and women in camouflage fatigues; also strapped into safety harnesses, faced each other from opposite sides of the craft. He counted twelve in total, including two that mounted heavy weapons trained on the ground below. Nobody spoke. ‘This is not good,’ he thought, wondering where Nathan was and thinking of Isa who he realized that he had let down. Remembering his promise at their parting, he was filled with sadness and remorse.

  His assumption that their destination was the citadel of New Denver was soon confirmed by the appearance of the landmark rearing blue stallion below with its illuminated piercing red eyes. It looked as ominous as ever; River had an affinity for horses but this immense statue twisted the serene nature of a horse into something quite evil. He knew the myth that it had crushed and killed its own sculptor on completion. Looking at it, River felt foreboding about his imminent captivity in this walled citadel which his people called the Blue Horse City. It had once been an airport but nobody that went there now ever returned. Looking due west, he could make out old Denver City far in the distance. He had been to the site; now in ruins, with Isa. A bleak place, quite derelict and largely deserted, although rumours of marauders and cannibals living amongst the ruins, circulated back home in Avana.

  The aircraft slowed to a drift as it passed over at least three perimeter fences. Hovering below the level of the citadel’s high sloped walls, it seemed to be waiting for clearance to land. Finally, it taxied to starboard and entered an immense hanger opening set into the wall. When at last the Rangers came to open up River’s pen, un-strap him and escort him through to reception, it was with all the urgency and attentiveness of one engaged in the humdrum activity of putting out the bins.

  “Time to meet the duty sergeant,” he said one of them, shoving him in the back.

  “That’ll make his day!” said another, who was following on behind in the company of a third ranger.

  The reception area was manned by an unhealthy looking man with oily skin and limp dark hair that was greying at the temples. His face was pink and blotchy and the buttons of his uniformed shirt were straining to contain the bulk of his ample proportions.

  “Another frigging primitive! Just what I don’t need. Where d’you keep finding these buggers?” -The duty sergeant gestured to a wall screen behind him -“There’s six in here already. Jesus Christ … I mean what is the point! We bust our ass turning ‘em into model citizens just to set ‘em to work for the minimum wage.” Casting a weary and contemptuous eye over River, he continued his rant. “None of you lot have a clue how much work that involves … the admin it creates for me. Course not, you’re too busy playing soldiers out in the sticks with the other boys … Put him in number six; we’ll deal with him later.”

  “This one’s different Sarge. We found him with an injured security officer up at the Garden of the Gods. You might not need to process this one at all.”

  “He still goes in Number Six. Lock him up.”

  Chapter Four

  It was a big relief for Major Nathan Carlson to get admitted to hospital, and to a medical ward that treated mainly government officers and officials. Although he had been patched up quite well, he was still in constant pain and none of his implants or prosthetics were working properly. A doctor was scheduled to set to work immediately on him, and she paid particular attention to investigate and undo every ministration that River had carried out on the Major. This was to ensure that nothing inappropriate had been conducted, and no foreign contaminants had been introduced to his body. The doctor’s name was Greggs; she was assigned to work for the Interior Office and the Environment Office. She was used to dealing with both security implants, and wounds and injuries incurred in the Outlands; although she was more likely to encounter those on Rangers, rather than a Security Officer. She was both curious and a little attracted to the Major who was fifteen years older than her. She thought he looked much younger than his years, and also considered him very fit in both senses of the word.

  “I don’t usually come across a Security Officers with injuries like you had. Nor have I mopped up after an outlander medical practitioner before. I haven’t seen string stitches used outside of a textbook. I unthreaded them anyway and sealed you up with ultrasound. If you don’t mind me asking, what were you doing out there?”

  “I go out there to practice a sport called natural free running. You might have seen some practitioners of free running in the recreational parks, but I prefer using the natural environment. I have got to be more careful though that I don’t have more accidents like this, because it was quite a fall.”

  “And who patched you up,” the doctor asked him whilst tracing out with her finger where she had removed the stitches on his leg.

  Nathan thought her a bit too tactile, but he didn’t object. “He was a native actually, on his mother’s side anyway, who probably saved my life,”-An image of the wolf flashed in his mind. - “Twice, now that I think of it; He saved my ass twice.”

  The doctor smiled, “Where is he now?”

  “Processing; the rangers took him. You know I better get down there and make sure they don’t do something bad.”

  “Well, if they process him, tell him he can train as a nurse. Anyway, you are ready to be discharged if you want. Everything is in full working order. The severance between your processor, communication and command inputs has been restored, and your prosthetics are functioning fine. There is no scarring or tissue damage. It was nice to meet you Major.”

  ~~~~~

  The Environment Office had been responsible for finding Major Carlson and returning him to the citadel. The Rangers were the military division of this Government Office and they prided themselves on how quickly they had located and retrieved an injured security officer. Now the Environment Office and Marshal Ronald in particular, prided themselves on how slowly they could process a request for an audience by the same said security officer. It was nothing personal; it was just that the ‘Enviro’ had a complete dislike and rivalry with the Interior Office. Now that Major Carlson had been rescued, he was just another representative of that other government department to be ‘dicked’ around. Nathan persisted though and had finally got Marshal Ronald to see him three days later. He of course was the paragon of chivalry when he invited the Major into his office a
nd offered him a seat. Nathan Carlson replied in kind and was very complaisant and agreeable to the aged Marshal.

  “How do I address you Sir, as Marshal or by your military rank of Colonel?”

  “My Ranger days are way behind me Major; you can call me by my departmental rank of Marshal. What can I do for you?”

  “You might not be aware Sir, but your men rescued me from the outlands a few days ago. I had got myself badly injured. In fact I might have died if it was not for the intervention of an Outlander, a half native who found me unconscious and medically tended my injuries. Well to cut a long story short Sir, your Rangers apprehended him and brought him back here for processing. My main worry is that I feel somewhat obliged to that young man and to your Rangers as well, of course. And I am somewhat aware of your protocol for dealing with contact between security officials and outlanders, and I don’t want my position to cause that young man’s death. I am assuming that he is still alive.”

  “Yes that detainee is still alive Major, but you understand that he was in a position to compromise you,”

  “Sir, I can assure you that his only attention was to my health and safe recovery and I would like to personally groom this young man as a potential and amenable asset for my department, and a possible agent for yours. I humbly request that you might fast path his processing and release him to my custody.”