When Fighting Monsters, page 22
part #5 of The Maauro Chronicles Series
A figure moved out of the shadows of Hummel’s giant maw.
“Well, well mes amis,” Maurice’s voice boomed. “I bet you did not plan to see me again?” The apish human, easily six-feet tall, wore a long-sleeved sweater that showed his bulging muscles. He wore his usual incongruous black beret over his shaven skull, and his small eyes glared at us in contempt, over his bristling mustache. His belt was noticeable, empty of weapons, a condition Maauro had no doubt set.
“I’d happily pass on seeing your ugly mug again,” I returned evenly. My hand was not far from the butt of my laser. The long-armed Guilder was one of the strongest humans I’d ever met, and even unarmed I was wary of him. Still, I had come too far, through too much, to cringe before the Guilder. We walked up the ramp, and I hated having to look up at him.
His eyes flicked to my hip as if to say my courage rode there.
“Who’s the monkey?” Delt asks, pausing a pace away from Maurice. His stance was easy, loose and able to punch in a second.
Maauro interrupted the simmering cauldron of resentment and anger. “He is of no consequence, an underling.”
She met his black stare with unconcern. “You will remain silent unless I bid you speak. Disobey me and I will render you incapable of speech, likely permanently. Do not think for a moment that your part in our past troubles is forgotten or forgiven. Take us to Ferlan. Now.”
Maurice’s jaw muscles clenched, but he was smart enough to keep his response behind his teeth rather than risk losing them. He spun on his heel, and we followed him into the ship. A plastic curtain hung inside the overhead, sufficient to keep the weather out and most of the heat in, while the ramp was down. We pushed between the plastic slats into the ship proper. The cavernous hold behind had been full of combat cars and transports for the expedition into the Artifact. None had returned and our footfalls echoed. We took a short stairwell to the next deck and then walked aft. I remembered the way to Ferlan’s hall near the center of the ship. All we heard was the humming of blowers, most of the huge crew had met the same fate as the vehicles. Ferlan had said only fifteen had survived, it was not enough to run so large a vessel for long. I noticed that some sections were unlit and that yellow lights glowed on some indicators. Hummel was not the healthiest of ships.
Finally, we reached the corridor outside Ferlan’s hall. The door was open and lights glowed inside. Maurice walked in. To my surprise, he did not greet her as he had usually done before and merely faded to the side of the room. Olivia kept an eye on Maurice, though with Maauro in the room, it was hardly necessary. Still, I did not discourage her.
We went down the other side of the huge, ornate wooden table and the chairs, locked down in their tracks so they wouldn’t be flung around during high-G maneuvers. One chair was neither delicate, nor ornate, and made of metal, clearly intended for Maauro. At the far end, in her red-damasked chair, Ferlan sat. The tiny woman, wearing a gray dress with a short cloak over it, rose. The light reflected off the metallic silver of her short haircut and the cool grey eyes. I did not know how old Ferlan was, she was a mutant and age didn’t sit hard on her. She was slender, but did not appear frail. Her face was smooth, though the skin did have the papery look of age.
“Greetings and welcome all,” she said, “please have a seat.” She glanced at Maurice, who stared impassively back. At a gesture from her, he left the room to return, moments later, with a small cart he wheeled back to the table, placing it by her elbow.
“Thank you, Maurice,” she said. “You may leave. I will call for you if I need you.”
He grunted and, without a backward look at us, left the room.
Maauro stood behind the chair intended for her. Her expression was blank. This in itself was a warning she was in no good temper.
“Oh dear,” Ferlan said, “you’re still quite cross with me, aren’t you? Wrik, perhaps you could intercede on my behalf and request a small dose of forgiveness?”
“Should I?” I replied.
“Please. I promise no more tricks, no more issues. I no longer wish to collect anything for myself or for the Guild. I am just an old woman on a damaged ship, far from home.”
“The day has not dawned that you are helpless,” I returned.
She smiled, seeming glad for a little of our old wordplay. “Well, I did not say that now, did I?”
“Let’s sit,” I said to Maauro. “She does make an excellent cup of tea.”
Maauro sat, and the rest of us arranged ourselves around the table. Delt looked like he wanted to put his laser on the table. I gave a minute shake of the head. He grimaced and put the weapon back in its holder.
“My staff is considerably reduced,” Ferlan said. “So with your permission, I shall play the part of mother.”
She moved to the cart and drew out a unique cup for each of us. Each one seemed to have some connection with the person it was set before. Maauro’s cup was metal and ancient in appearance, with some gems built into its handle that seemed to wax and wane in brilliance. Delt’s cup was a sturdy clay mug, brown and with unknown glyph’s molded in it. Olivia’s was a radical shape, somewhere between a flute and cup, with a black and white pattern that rose, flower-like about its structure.
Mine was similar to Ferlan’s own, a white and royal blue cup and saucer, limned in gold. Her own was the more delicate and feminine.
Ferlan placed several small plates of white cakes on the table, then began to pour the tea from a beautiful red, white and gold pot. We all waited in bemused silence as she did so.
“This is a fine charaku tea, not suitable for milk, I am afraid. You need not fear anything in the tea or cakes. Ms. Maauro has already sampled air molecules from them for safety’s sake, I am sure. And if not, I give her leave to do so by any means she chooses.” She finished by pouring for herself. It seemed the Collector was using her collection to its fullest.
“Ah,” she said, sitting with a sigh. “Now we have tea and refreshments and may discuss things like civilized people.”
She and I sipped her tea, while the others just stared at their cups, until Maauro took a sip of tea and reached for a small cake.
“How remarkable you are,” Ferlan said, watching Maauro nibble her cake, “a living machine, one capable of emotion, even that most complicated and novel one, love. Why, compared to you, my entire collection is mere dross.”
Maauro cocked her head at her. “You realize that I am not an object to be collected.”
“Of course,” Ferlan replied, raising her hand. “You are a person. Though there are some who collect people in the Guild, I was never one such. Beyond that, I incurred your enmity once and only barely survived. Even then, I was not your target. You battled the Infestors and, while it is a sting to my vanity, I was never more than a distraction to you.”
“True,” Maauro said, “but for Wrik’s presence among your convoy, I would have destroyed you quickly. However, I note, but do not understand that your survival, if not that of your crew, pleases my boyfriend. I can only conclude that he found some merit to you that has eluded me to this point.”
“Well,” Ferlan said, raising her delicate cup, “I am glad you are open to the idea that I might have some merit.” Ferlan’s smile was unforced, even playful.
“You’re different,” I said. Everyone turned toward me.
“Well, Wrik, you are certainly not a coward—is it not possible that I should cease being a villain?”
I scratched the back of my head. “I have rebuilt my life on the faith that a person can change.”
“For me,” Ferlan said, her eyes distant and contemplative, “I feel as if I am in a different life entirely, or perhaps a purgatory, where I must atone for what my life was, before I am allowed to move on. Little of what has passed before has any meaning for me. I am like a ghost, working on my last great regret. I did tell you, just before what I thought was the end, how much I regretted forcing a conflict between us, Miss Maauro.”
Maauro considered, covering this with a brief sip of her tea. “Just, Maauro. Yes, you did. While I am not one for forgiveness, I will forgo our former enmity.”
Ferlan nodded her head. “I am grateful. I will give you no cause for regret.”
For a second I thought Maauro might say, ‘better not’ but, in apparent deference to Ferlan’s sophistication, passed.
“So,” I began, “please continue the story about how you are here, halfway across a galactic arm from where we saw you last, a prisoner of Infestors.”
“Let me begin at the beginning,” Ferlan said. “When you escaped the surface of the Infestor Artifact in your Stardust, the Infestors had overwhelmed the survivors of my command with their mental control. They wanted my ship and sent myself and most of the command crew, helpless automatons all, in an elevator and boarding tube to the Hummel.
“When we entered the bridge, we were quite exhausted from running. The Infestors had no care for our bodies, and my own heart felt like it was about to seize. Anyway, their Queen’s control wavered. Clearly, it was preoccupied by you, or maybe had realized what you had done to its stardrive. We had barely time to reach our chairs and fire the engines, with no more direction than up.
“We cleared the artifact’s surface, but not the effect of whatever Maauro did to it. You saw this, I imagine.”
I nodded and sipped my tea. Maauro said nothing.
“As I have mentioned, I am a mutant of an old Terran stock and an esper in a minor way. It is more a talent for telling for what others are feeling, rather than mind-reading. I often sense dangers before they strike, though I confess this utterly failed me on the Artifact. Perhaps the Infestors were simply too different to sense.
“In any event, in the moments before the Artifact vanished, we were caught in its wake and, well, I was thinking of your Wrik: the small kindnesses you had showed me—an enemy, of how…of how you reminded me of my own lost son. I was thinking of how foolish and selfish I had become with my absurd collecting.
“As I thought of you, a vision came of the awful day of your final stand over a fallen Maauro. Then the vision changed and I was touched by a mind so alien to my own that I could barely comprehend it. This was the Predictor. Its mind was bent on you, Maauro, in the vast disturbance that you had caused in causality, the ripples had reached through something that is not space-time, and caused it to see you.”
“You saw the Predictor?” Maauro asked. If an android could look surprised, she did.
“Yes. But it seemed that I was swept along by the power of this Predictor. Perhaps the tremendous power of the Predictor is what saved us. It may have tunneled through space-time and causality to bring us here. Somehow, I have been given a part in your and Wrik’s fate. I cannot say anything of the how or the why.”
“Nor can I,” Maauro said slowly, as if still caught up in disbelief.
“My circumstances are much reduced,” Ferlan added. “I have this ship, but it is undermanned and our armaments are only slightly greater than what your scoutship boasts. Yet, we are here. Even I, great cynic that I am, cannot believe that my escape from death, and being cast across a decade and a thousand parsecs, is mere chance.”
Maauro met her eyes. “Are you then an agent of God?”
“They say that he moves in mysterious ways,” Ferlan returned. “What could be more mysterious than to use an old villain like myself?”
“Do you have any knowledge of our enemy,” I asked, “anything that can help us?”
“No, Wrik. I saw nothing more than the two of you did. Nor have we found any relevant information on this world. We have explored the old base, eleven kilometers away. There were some interesting artifacts, but nothing that seemed to pend on our situations. The base was owned by an unknown species, humanoid, from an image that we found among the ruins; they look like hairless humans. We have found no information on what destroyed the base, which is far more extensive then seen from space.
“I am here,” she said, spreading her hands, “and you are free to make such use of me, or my assets as you can.” She cast an eye at Maauro, who had started a second cake, “even if it is only as a baker.”
Tea, cake and conversation consumed hours, but yielded no plan. We briefed Ferlan on the nature of our enemy. She didn’t whistle, but her pursed lips made it look like she might. She shook her head in amazement.
“If you are right, that it must become much more material when entering the atmosphere of an earth type planet,” Ferlan mused, “then we may be safer here on the ground, than in space. A direct assault into your nuclear torpedoes would clearly be dangerous to it, or so I guess, but perhaps my thinking is too conventional.”
“It matches my own thinking,” Maauro said. “Our conventional weapons are apt to be most effective in this environment, which is why I accepted our planeting. I have taken control of your weapons and slaved them to my fire control. It will substantially increase our firepower, and we have the crabs outside as well.”
“Well,” Ferlan said, finally, rising. “You young folk may have more that you wish to do, or talk of, but I find myself a bit weary. You have given me a vast amount of data to study, and in return, all that I know of ancient mysteries is laid bare for you, Maauro. I will think on all you have downloaded, perhaps another day’s sunrise will bring us additional wisdom. Meanwhile, unless you wish to guest on Hummel, may I suggest you return to your ship. Darkness comes early and the cold is bitter. I wish to secure Hummel for the night.”
We declined the offer of a night on her ship, which I thought disappointed her slightly. The silent Maurice reappeared and escorted us back to the ramp. None of us spoke to the Guilder. He’d already sealed the ramp, and we exited from a small access lock next to it. Ferlan had been accurate in her forecast. The sun was westering into shadows, silhouetted by mountains. Above and to the east the gas giant and its rings glowed in a beauty even Maauro could not deny.
But we had little leisure for sights. The cold was severe already, despite the auto heat elements in our clothes. We hurried back to Stardust, coming back with as many questions or more, than we had set out with.
Later, I lay on our bed, my head buzzing with all that we had learned from Ferlan and our fears of the Beast, somewhere in the system with us. Stardust was on a thirty minute standby for liftoff. Maauro’s inspection told us that Hummel could not be brought up to such standard, but had to stand ready with a four hour liftoff clock.
“Impossibilities abound,” Maauro said, from where she stood at the plast-steel port, looking out at the running lights of the Hummel. “How am I to plan for eventualities when causality seems ripped like an old sheet?”
“Causality rips,” I said, snapping my fingers and sitting upright.
“What?” Maauro asked.
“All the multiple impossibilities that have erupted around us,” I continued, as the idea crystallized in my head, “have two elements in common, you and a rip in causality.’
She cocked her head at me. “I do not understand. What are you saying?”
“Three impossible things have happened around you. First, is your own existence, a living machine, not merely an AI. We don’t know when the spark that made you more occurred, but it occurred in Vance system, where the Murch used their transdimensional drive, when they arrived millennia ago and crashed. Perhaps they came out of trans-dimensional space near the asteroid where you lay all those years.”
“It’s possible, Wrik, but there is no shred of evidence for it.”
“Follow along with me,” I insisted. “The next impossible thing occurred when you tipped the Infestor Artifact into transdimensional space, using what you learned of the Murch technology.”
She nodded.
“Perhaps, when causality ripped the second time, the Predictor, what did you say his name was?”
“Agrille.”
“Perhaps Agrille detected you then. Maybe he realized that you would be a significant factor in his future and that of his entire species, wrapped up in causality as you are. The Collector, who we now know is an esper, was also present, herself already in a battle with a vastly more powerful esper, the newborn Infestor Hive Queen. And all of us were caught in that wrinkle in space-time in which the Artifact had hid itself. When the Artifact disappeared to wherever it was going, the Collector’s ship blasted off on another vector.
“At that moment, with the Predictor focused on you, and causality itself failing, Ferlan may have seen this world and our fate on it. That might have been enough to bring her here, possibly altering the time line so we came to this place, a place the Predictor described as a ‘node’ one of those that could bend the river of time around you.”
“So,” Maauro said, with an ironic air. “You think that the rips in causality caused by the two times the Murch drive was used in our dimension, set up a chain of events that led to my becoming what I am and tied the Collector to our fate?”
“And possibly altered the time line to where we arrived here years early. We may actually owe her our lives. It holds together and makes sense.”
“With not a shred of evidence? Without a single verifiable fact?” Maauro’s tone was incredulous. “I have been surprised by your ability to find patterns in the absence of evidence before, but honestly….”
“Well,” I said, blushing, “we do have some evidence, observations of what has happened, if nothing else. Unless you’re telling me you want to believe in coincidence?”
“No,” she said firmly, while walking over to me. “Even for me a supercomputer, calculating the odds is almost insurmountable, essentially a googolplex to one. Very well then, even without verifiable evidence, we will accept your theory as a working theory, but it’s not very scientific.”
