She ran her palm over his nose ridge, around behind his ear, and rubbed until he squirmed. “Moktoh good friend forever. Mir’ah make words on hide-sheet and Moktoh take and put on Mir’ah sleep-mat. Then Moktoh come back and we go with Ekan. Gramma find in day.”
The wakat sat and stared at her as his simple mind sorted out the long instructions and then chittered a slow agreement.
Mir’ah crushed the stain-bulb over the end of her scribe stick and scribbled a message on the hide-sheet while Moktoh watched her. When she was satisfied that she had said what she needed, she waved the note around to dry the message into the skin.
“What words say?” he asked.
“Words tell Gramma, Mir’ah love Tuula big,” she said. “Moktoh take now. Go fast. Ekan coming and Mir’ah wait.”
He chittered again, snatching the hide-sheet out of her hand and pushing it deep into his pouch before he scampered up the nearest tree and swung off toward the Cha’nee village.
It would take some time for the wakat to return. She settled back in the grass and watched the stars. They would have plenty of time before Moktoh came back and so she luxuriated in the sensation of the wind whispering over her skin while she waited for Ekan to arrive. When he reached her, they could couple again, and she tingled inside at the thought.
Tonight, both night-sisters were still below the edge of the world and the sky was dark. The New Star hung low over the trees and she wondered again what it was. Brighter than most of the other lights and colored so that it was not like any of the others, it hung where it always was.
New Star appeared in the sky long before she was born but she knew that something in its presence held her destiny. She had always considered it a beacon, given to her by the Lights of Guidance, that her path was single and unwavering. Unlike the other stars that marched across the night, New Star never moved against the sky. It gave her confidence that her journey was set into the future. With a certainty, she would ascend the mount and lift the Arak Ut’ar.
Yet tonight as she watched, a spark broke free from New Star like an ember from a fire. As she watched, it fell toward the sharrah and vanished over the mountains across the ala’rah beyond the Ar’ah camp.
“The Lights of Guidance bind Mir’ah to this path,” she whispered. She felt joy, even stronger than the sense of loss from leaving her entire life behind. She wanted to jump up and dance but held herself to sitting up and looking down the pass to see if she could see the glow from Ekan’s zo’mar arak.
Mir’ah stared for several minutes before she spotted the faint bobbing motion of his arak as he held it above his head to ward off any korah that might lurk in the trees. He was still far down the trail and she thought about running to meet him, to tell him of the binding she had just seen. But again, she could be patient. They had their entire future to share.
Behind her a sound like the rustling of the wind pulled her eyes away from watching Ekan in the distance. It was strange and she sniffed at the air. A korah never moved in silence, but it wasn’t the only predator in the sharrah. She reached into her pouch and pulled out her edge. She was well inside the ring of her zo’mar utel so she should be safe, but a beast driven mad by hunger might still try to cross the glowing stones. Mir’ah rolled over and pushed herself into a crouching position, facing the wind noise.
Stretching her eyes, she brightened the dark and scanned the trees. Nothing moved.
Beside her, a crashing in the brush like a charging boar korah and she spun, ready to launch herself toward the sound. She felt no fear, only sadness that if a korah came for her this night, Ekan would never know she had decided to couple with him. To bind to him. To nest and child for him.
Instead of facing the wild beast and its thousand teeth, she saw the entire edge of the sharrah light up like a hundred zo’mar shattering at once. She hesitated, covering her eyes with her free hand and holding her edge forward while her vision returned.
What demon is this? No creature on the world other than the Ut’ar used the zo’mar.
A sound like a lightning flea’s scream pierced the night and she clutched at her naked breast in pain. Again, the hissing sound, and another tear of agony on her leg as she staggered back. And a third time she felt the sizzle of lightning flash across her stomach. Gasping hard to swallow enough air to remain on her feet, she realized she was falling.
Her eyes focused up on the stars and she blinked in rage. “How could you betray the Mir’ah ak’et Tuula akCha’nee? It is my path,” she whispered.
A voice, strange, not wakat and not Ut’ar, spoke from the trees in words she could not understand. Another voice answered. Struggling with all her heart she turned her head and looked over into the sharrah.
Three Ut’ar stood at the edge of the clearing. Their skin shining brighter than the zo’mar beneath their feet. Marat akUt’ar?
One of them walked over to her and knelt, saying something else that she could not understand. He opened a pouch in his skin, pulled out a small flat stone, and placed it on her chest. He moved it and it grew warm, glowing faintly. He jerked his head up and down and spoke again.
Another one walked over and bared his teeth at her. He didn’t look angry like he meant to attack, his eyes gazed at her with gentleness that confused her. He dropped to the ground on the other side of her. “Mir’ah ahhhkChaan’ney Tu’ullah,” he said, speaking slowly and with a strange tone to his words. She wanted to chitter at his funny voice but couldn’t move. He said other things in those words she did not understand, and bared his teeth again, but she wasn’t afraid of him even though she could not have moved to protect herself.
The two Marat akUt’ar grabbed her arms and pulled her over face down onto her stomach on the grass. She could feel hands on her back and neck but could not stop them. One of them pulled her hair to the side and a sharp stab split her skin. She would have shrieked but couldn’t draw a swallow of air. Another stab followed the first and then the pain went away.
Night settled over her like a warm cloud and she drifted into the darkness. “Sleep princess,” the one said. “Tomorrow you become queen.”
She didn’t know how, but she understood his words.
Moktoh shook her awake, his face close and his breath warm on her face.
“Mir’ah sleep bad,” he said, shaking her harder. “Ekan sleep bad, there.”
Mir’ah opened her eyes and struggled to focus on the face of her wakat. She reached up to rub the back of her head and felt a bump. “Mir’ah night walking,” she said.
“Mir’ah fall and sleep?” he asked.
She sat up and looked around. Her pouch and edge were across the zo’mar and the light from Sister Tarah was bright in the sky.
“Ekan sleep bad,” Moktoh said. “No wake little.”
She looked over at the crumpled pile of Ekan’s body and stared at him for several seconds. She knew him and she knew he was important, but couldn’t remember why. Pushing herself up to a standing position, she stumbled over to her pouch and slipped the edge back inside. She stood there for a long while picking the lights of the New Star out of the glare of the bright moonlight.
The wakat stood up, walked over to her, grabbed her hand, and pulled on it. “Mir’ah, Ekan no wake little. Sleep bad?” he pleaded.
She turned her head to look at Ekan again and the feeling of something missing washed over her again. She stepped over to him and looked down, nudging him with a toe. He moaned but didn’t wake. She bumped him again, this time much harder and he groaned.
Ekan won’t understand. She heard the strange words of the Marat akUt’ar in her head like he was standing behind her. She spun, sending Moktoh back in surprise and nearly up into the trees.
He will stop you Tuula Ut’ar.
She swallowed a deep gulp of air and jerked her head up and down. “Ekan will not follow Mir’ah,” she said, looking down at the wakat and baring her teeth. It chittered and grabbed a low hanging vine.
“Mir’ah angry at Moktoh?”
<
br /> “No,” she said, remembering her face might scare the wakat if she… smiled. “Moktoh first love. Moktoh follow me anywhere. Yes?”
“Yes,” he said, turning loose of the vine. “Moktoh love Mir’ah forever.”
“Good,” she said. She bent over to pick up the largest of the zo’mar utel, turned back to Ekan, and knelt down beside him.
“You wouldn’t understand,” she said in the words of the Marat akUt’ar. She brought the heavy stone down repeatedly on his face until he swallowed no more air.
She didn’t notice that her companion wakat had disappeared up the tree in screaming terror.
From this time on, she controlled the stars. Those who would not follow her would serve.
She would be the Tuula Ut’ar.
Queen of all the tribes of the world.
Chapter Two
Captain Ethan Walker sat alone in a dining alcove on the main concourse of Armstrong Station staring out the window and trying to pick the insignificant speck of the Tacra Un out of the darkness. It was only a hundred kilometers across and almost ten-thousand klick away. And it was dark gray.
But it gave him something to stare at while he was trying to do nothing.
He’d already sent two servobots away, so was ready to scream at the next one as it walked up and stopped near the table. He glanced at it and realized it wasn’t another of the treaded carts with a brain.
This one walked on two legs and bore a striking resemblance to a person by comparison. It had a vaguely female form and stood just over a meter and a half tall. It stared at him with glowing blue optic eyes above a display faceplate that presented a human looking digital face.
After several seconds the face changed expression and smiled. “I am sorry for staring, Captain Walker. I am just getting used to my new body and the input channels are extremely sensitive for binocular vision.”
“Marti?” he asked as he recognized the voice. The Olympus Dawn’s AA system had apparently decided it needed yet another automech body.
“Yes, Captain,” it said, smiling even more realistically.
Its mouth moved when it spoke in a flawless reproduction of natural human facial movements. The more Ethan studied it the more it looked like a woman inside an EVA suit with the visor open. He wanted to move his head from side to side and see if it was a three-dimensional representation, or a trick of optical presentation. Though he felt like it would be rude to stare.
“I decided to acquire a new body while we were here at Armstrong Station,” Marti said. “After our unexpected windfall profit from the last run, I felt it was time to try Humanform Dynamics’ latest model. Because this is where their development lab is located, I was able to get several upgrades included in the negotiated price.” It pirouetted as gracefully as a dancer with its arms extended.
“I have to say that’s impressive,” he said. “A bit short, but nice.”
“I chose this height so that the body would be more efficient and useful for maintenance work in confined spaces.”
“Of course,” Ethan said. “Logic rules.”
“This hardware is an order of magnitude more sophisticated than the Gendyne 6000 unit I have aboard the ship. I studied the specifications before I made the acquisition, but the bandwidth transfer rate is exceptionally high. It also has advanced sensing capability that is a somewhat novel experience for me. The sensitivity and range of detection is impressive. When I am utilizing this automech, I have a sense of smell and touch at least equivalent to human capability.”
“I’m sure you’ll regret that if we ever blow a recycler line,” he said.
The face frowned. “I will have to learn to understand what you consider an unpleasant aroma,” it said. “At this time, it would be something I experienced with no relational value.”
“There are times I think that would be nice,” he said.
“Would it be appropriate for me to sit?” Marti asked.
Ethan nodded.
“One major drawback to this smaller automech is that it has limited power capacity. Whenever possible it would be useful to conserve by curtailing lower body operations,” it said, bouncing as it jumped into the seat across the table from him. “I assume this is why humans sit?”
“Close enough,” he said. “How long will your batteries last without recharge?
“Eighteen to twenty-four hours under normal use loads,” it said.
“That’s not too bad,” he said. “Roughly the equivalent of a human duty cycle.”
“I purchased an external power pack for extended range, and it will provide an additional twelve hours if needed. It is just awkward to carry in some environments, as it mounts to my back with a separable rack.”
“Sounds like standard hiking gear,” Ethan said, nodding.
“I am detecting an odor I cannot identify.” Marti turned its head to look around the room.
“Is this it?” The captain picked up his coffee mug and handed it over.
“Yes,” it said. “Is this what coffee smells like?” It raised an eyebrow as it looked down into the cup. It was easy to forget that the eyes were the glowing optics above the image of the face.
“It varies, but that is one kind of coffee,” he said.
“May I taste it?”
“Excuse me?”
“It would be a chemical analysis of the organic compounds, but the way this body processes and stores information, it would provide a holistic integrated reactive data set across the spectrum of chemicals involved.” A small tube slid out of an aperture below the faceplate and extended toward the cup. “I will only require a microgram for a taste.”
“Help yourself,” Ethan said, watching in amusement as Marti took its first sip of coffee.
Its eyes opened wide and it smiled again. “I am not sure how I am supposed to react to this flavor. Do you consider it pleasurable?”
“I do,” he said. “That variety is Colorado Special Reserve. It is rather exceptional.”
“Then I will log this sensation as pleasurable,” it said, handing the cup back. “From the conversations around the breakfast table on the ship, I am eager to experience the sensation of bacon. It must be extraordinary.”
“It is,” Ammo said, walking up and landing in the chair beside the automech. “I assume, unless the boss has taken up cyber-sex with cute robot girls, this must be Marti in a new body?”
“Well if it isn’t the often absent, Tiamorra Rayce,” Ethan said, staring at his load broker with a fair amount of frustration. She’d been working her contacts since they arrived at Armstrong, and after two days he hadn’t seen her aboard the ship once. He wasn’t sure if she was working or partying, or maybe both, but he would have appreciated a progress report. Or an invitation.
“Sorry boss it takes time to dredge up boring work,” she said. “The challenging ones I can lay hand to almost instantly.”
“Boring is good,” he said. The entire crew had threatened to go on strike unless they took an easy run this time. Facing down Captain Jetaar had given them all their fill of risk for a while, even if they had made an obscenely huge pile of profit for their trouble.
“So, do we have anything?” He drained the rest of his coffee and set the cup on the table between them.
She nodded. “It’s a short single-leg out, about forty parsec, with a dead head return.”
“Nothing deadly, or bent on killing things?” He grinned. “Or worth enough that people who enjoy killing things, might be looking to take it away from us?”
“Nope. Just some medical gear and food type necessities for a sociology mission on a sib-civ,” she said.
“A sibling civilization? Don’t they restrict access to those unless they’re on a par with us?”
She nodded. “I didn’t catch the name of the planet but it’s a primitive tribal world. We’ll be delivering to an observation platform under the management of the Coalition Science Wing.
“A government job sounds boring enough. That should keep the rest
of the crew happy,” he said. “Being a Coalition job, I’m surprised they aren’t going through the big contractors.”
“This one is so small it isn’t worth paying the commissions to Cochrane Space Logistics,” she said. “We’ll load up a single container of mixed goods, a civilian observer, and two or three scientists. Everything will be at the same transfer depot in Proxima so it will be a fast grab and go. Once we snag it, we scoot back across to our part of the galaxy.”
Proxima was humanity’s largest extrasolar colony and only a little over a parsec from Earth, so even though it was in the Centaurus Sector it wasn’t far out of their usual area of operation.
“That sounds perfect.” he said. “The Doctor wants us to stay in Cygnus as much as possible. Assuming she comes back from the Institute. She’s still pretty pissed at me.”
“Kaycee’s fine,” she said, looking around the concourse for a servobot. “She’ll be touchy for a while, but she gets over things. Eventually. She knows you did the right thing even if she won’t admit it yet.”
“I can call a servobot for you,” Marti offered, turning its head in her direction. After almost a second it made a funny expression that wasn’t quite curiosity. “May I ask you a question?”
She glanced at the captain and shrugged. The expressions would take some time for everybody to get used to. “Sure. Go ahead.”
“Is the smell I am currently detecting, human female pheromones?”
The captain slapped a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing out loud.
Ammo blinked. Several times.
“Marti’s got a nose now,” Ethan reminded her.
“And needs to figure out how to keep it where it belongs,” she added.
“I did not mean to offend,” it said, lines appearing between the image-eyes as it tried to emulate an expression of consternation. “I am trying to catalog the various odors I encounter, and without some input from humans it is difficult to determine the source of the scent. It is a very imperfect sensory system.”
“It might be pheromones,” Ammo said, looking down.
Wings of Earth- Season One Page 39