Outermost

by Blaze Ward

  The system beeped politely and then opened.

  The creature waited outside at a polite distance. He had an odd smell Valentinian couldn’t place. Brighter than cinnamon, but Valentinian wasn’t enough of a cook to identify it, other than he was pretty sure it was in his kitchen, if he wanted to track it down later.

  The creature put his feet together and bowed over clasped hands.

  “Greetings, fellow travelers,” it said in a warm, baritone voice that sounded like it should have come from a much larger person.

  “Hello,” Valentinian bowed back. Proper Dominion manners weren’t all that different. “What brings you to Kryuome?”

  Neither of them moved one bit forward.

  “Unfortunately, a broken warp array controller,” the creature said. “I am Redtip Windrunner Oedressa Farther Glaxu.”

  It took Valentinian a second to break that down into names, rather than gibberish.

  “Captain Valentinian Tarasicodissa,” he replied. “I’m human. What species do you represent?”

  “Mondi,” the man said with a nod. “We are rare in this octant of space.”

  That was an understatement. To date, Valentinian had never met an alien that wasn’t close enough to human for government work. Even the three meter tall M’Rai qualified, as they could occasionally hybridize with one of the smaller Variant Humanities. This man’s ancestors had been land birds, rather than jungle apes.

  “Ah.” Valentinian nodded, still not moving. “Not one I am familiar with, but I come from a great distance spinward, myself.”

  “Spinward?” the Mondi asked. “Interesting. There are rumors of civilized star empires beyond Wildspace in that direction.”

  “Laurentia,” Valentinian nodded. “Asherah. Qetesh. Lie-Zu. The Dominion.”

  “Do you have a warp mechanic I might hire for a day or two?” the creature asked, just like a Dominion gentleman.

  Valentinian felt himself falling back into those rituals.

  “Not a dedicated one, per se,” he shrugged. “However, we have some level of technical expertise aboard. Would you care to join us for tea?”

  It was a little off-putting, watching that tiny head cock one way, and then the other. After a moment, Valentinian realized that it would be the same as him turning side-eye on a situation, trying to gauge risk. Or a dog sniffing for trouble.

  “It would be extremely rude of me to invite myself aboard your ship, Captain,” the visitor finally exclaimed.

  And highly risky, if I wanted to take you prisoner and sell or ransom you off to someone, yes. Still, we can act like civilized creatures, at least for a time.

  “Indeed, good sir,” Valentinian let the imprinted patterns of Gymnasia Dominia come to the fore.

  Once upon a time, he had been training to become an officer in the Dominion Armada. Before that unfortunate misunderstanding with smuggled goods. Where things ended up that he was the only person left when everyone else had someone important to hide behind, leaving him as the scapegoat.

  “If you would give me a moment, I will ask my crew to make preparations, and then I will join you out in the shade and we can chat like civilized folk.”

  “Very good, Captain,” the Mondi bowed again and moved off to the part of the yard where Longshot cast a nice shadow.

  Valentinian turned to Kyriaki with a smile and a shrug.

  “Cold tea, please?” he asked.

  “You are completely insane, Valentinian,” she shook her head to herself.

  “That’s beside the point, Kyriaki,” he said. “Sailor in need. There are rules and customs that civilized people are expected to follow. Shape does not factor into it at any point.”

  “Understood,” she actually smiled at him. “Just stating the obvious.”

  “Hey,” he said as she started to turn. “I can be helpless and harmless these days. I’ve got the three of you backing me up. The rest is just a show.”

  That got through to her. She smiled a little and nodded.

  Valentinian exited through the airlock and closed it behind him.

  “Redtip Windrunner Oedressa Farther Glaxu?” Valentinian asked as he joined the smaller man, bird, person, whatever, in the shade.

  “Correct, Captain,” the Mondi nodded, his eyes growing larger. “Most humans require several attempts to get it right. Thank you.”

  “What is the naming structure?” the nearly-Dominion officer and gentleman asked, speaking with Valentinian’s tongue.

  “Tribe, clan, family, nickname, and personal name,” the Mondi said. “I would thus be Captain Oedressa to strangers, and Farther to the other pilots of my nest.”

  “Farther?” Valentinian asked.

  “My ship is named Outermost, Captain,” he said. “Always the closest to the enemy in our flying formations. I was the one that wanted to remain in this octant of space, when the others voted to return to our home sectors. It was the black humor of the gods that my ship suffered the malfunction that left me adrift in this place just as the others got up to speed.”

  “I see,” Valentinian replied. “I am in similar circumstances. My crew are all a long ways from their homes, but not likely to return in the near future.”

  He heard beeping as someone opened the hatch and emerged.

  Bayjy, stripped of her extra socks and sweatshirt and most likely reveling in life at a low broil, in her shorts and a tight T-shirt.

  “Captains,” she said with a saucy smile as she approached, a pitcher in one hand, two mugs in the other, and the plasma rifle slung across her back.

  Kyriaki had also emerged, standing at the rear hatch and ignoring the rest of them to keep watch. Dave was either still in the cockpit or up top with the sniper rifle.

  It was nice, not having to worry about anything except the strange birdman in front of him.

  They both took mugs, Captain Oedressa requiring both hands, since it was so large. Bayjy poured and smiled, stepping back and pointedly stood in the direct sunlight, like a lizard on the perfect rock.

  Valentinian started sweating just watching her.

  “So, if you are a stranger to the zones known as Wildspace, will the technology be close enough for us to be able to repair, or adapt parts?” Valentinian asked after a few sips of the cold heaven.

  A Mondi shrug apparently involved the palms rotating up and out, with the body pitching slightly forward at the hips. At least, if Valentinian was reading the man’s body language correctly. Always an iffy topic, when suddenly dealing with a true alien, and not a close-enough-biped with different internal chemistry. It was doubly interesting watching him do that and still not manage to spill any of the tea.

  “It is my fervent hope, Captain,” he said. “I have attempted to engage locals, but most of them are incapable of diagnosing such advanced technology. At a certain point, I ran somewhat afoul of the local power structure and found it necessary to depart the city for safer climates.”

  “Truqtok?” Valentinian asked, wondering if this man, this bird represented a third option.

  Basuk had held a low opinion of the humans around here, but the two species kept largely to themselves. If Valentinian had been out at night the first time, he probably would have never spoke that much with the Jynarri.

  “Some of his band of people, yes,” Captain Oedressa nodded. “After winning several duels with his thugs, I apparently enraged them.”

  Valentinian studied the man closer now. Half his height. At most a quarter of his weight. But the way he stood suggested a kick-fighter, especially the bit where he was wearing spats, rather than boots, exposing clawed toes, and had metal and cloth greaves close to his ankles. The pockets on them did an exceptional job of disguising their purpose, but he suspected it would be like a human with a cestus on each hand when punching.

  “I see,” Valentinian grinned.

  They shared a secret joke, and Oedressa nodded deep enough to almost constitute a bow.

  “Were you present enough to overhear my conversation with the ear
lier visitor?” Valentinian asked. He assumed, but it was worth seeing if the tiny killer would admit it.

  “I was,” Oedressa noted. “I found it relevant enough to witness, just in case, although I hope you will not take offense.”

  “None, in fact,” Valentinian bowed in turn. “But I have just spent a morning with Basuk, the Jynarri arms merchant, and he has a similarly low opinion of the human tribes in this town. I would not like to depart from my ship’s current location at present. Could you retrieve yours and join us here?”

  “Rather quickly, actually,” Oedressa grinned.

  A Mondi grin was all eyes and a slight head cock, since the beak was rigid. But the body language was obvious, if you were listening.

  “However,” the birdman continued. “I suspect repairs will take far longer to complete.”

  Valentinian grinned now.

  “As you know, I have an appointment with Truqtok later today,” he said smoothly. “Perhaps you would care to join us, in some sort of a vague, bodyguarding capacity?”

  “Unless you have truly angered that human, I cannot imagine you would need it,” Oedressa noted somewhat evasively. “And in that case, I doubt my presence would mitigate things.”

  “True,” Valentinian agreed. “But it would give you a vested interest in our success, that we might be able to more quickly turn towards repairing your vessel.”

  Those huge eyes blinked. Twice. Zeroed in on him hard.

  A Mondi laugh was rather like a big cat chuffing, Valentinian learned.

  “Well played, Captain,” Oedressa chuckled. “I accept your invitation. His men already know to fear me, so you may inherit some of that wrath, I must warn you.”

  “I do not plan to remain on this planet any longer than absolutely necessary,” Valentinian admitted in a hard voice. “And then to never look back. But I can take the time to help get you into space again.”

  “Thank you,” Oedressa bowed formally again and stepped back. He turned to Bayjy and bowed to her as well. “Madam, the tea was excellent. If you will excuse me, I must run to retrieve my ship. I will see you again in a few hours.”

  Valentinian watched a wary Bayjy accept the mug from the tiny man.

  The Mondi took two strides away and he was already moving at thirty kph. Two more and he was closer to sixty, if Valentinian could judge it accurately.

  Ground bird. Hunter from the placement of his eyes. Really damned fast when he wanted to show off. Or remind the pitiful humans that they couldn’t keep up with him on their best day.

  Valentinian filed that for reference.

  “You’re nuts,” Bayjy echoed Kyriaki.

  “Tell me something I don’t know?” Valentinian asked her.

  “He’s cute, and deadly,” she tried. “We really taking him with us?”

  “Depends on him,” Valentinian said. “Now, let’s get back inside where you can put some clothes on and I can plan while we eat.”

  She winked at him and he was certain the extra wiggle in her bottom was an invitation, if he wanted to pursue it. Not quite the stupidest idea in the galaxy, but probably not all that far away from it. Tight pants and shirt on the woman didn’t help his frame of mind.

  Still, he had work to do, and a good crew.

  Now if he could just stay out of local troubles.

  17

  Glaxu

  Glaxu really couldn’t take offense at the situation he found himself in. The human had played an exceptional, metaphorical match of jousting and caught him from below and behind with his lance. Glaxu was just amazed that the human had arrived at how to maneuver them into that situation.

  Most humans were two-dimensional fighters, which made a pitiful kind of sense, since they had never managed to fly before technological assistance. The Mondi had lost most of their ability over the ages, but still retained the instincts, and had honed them once they had ships that could fly for them again.

  He was just glad that he had been thwarted in his earlier plans to merely break in and try to steal the parts he needed. Glaxu knew he was no great mechanical engineer. And Captain Tarasicodissa had been revealed to be both brutal and civilized.

  It would be interesting, entering Truqtok’s throne room for the first time in the company of the four human strangers. At once, he would be part of a nest again, however temporarily, and that appeared to be part of the quid pro quo that the captain would insist upon for the technical assistance.

  Truly, a masterful performance. Glaxu decided to leave the shock bracers on when he joined them later. Perhaps one of the thugs could be enticed to dance, and Glaxu could give his new friends an example of just how dangerous the little bird hunter really was, just in case they were entertaining piratical thoughts.

  He would hate to have to kill all of them, right after they had done him the favor of fixing his ship.

  Up and over the fifth rise, he found the lip above the little box canyon where Outermost was stashed. Even humans would be hard pressed to imagine that you could stash a flying craft in there. Repulsorlift craft like Captain Tarasicodissa had apparently just purchased were barely smaller, and usually lacked the fine, vertical control of a Mondi fightership.

  Glaxu danced along the edge for a few yards, inspecting the space below, and then hopped off the cliff, fluttering and gliding for the eight meters to the top of his ship, hidden below a tarp that honestly made it look like desert floor, even before all the shadows.

  Quickly, he detached the elastic cords from the various hooks with his toes, walking backwards and rolling it up as he went. Outermost emerged as he did so, the black and gray hull lurking at the bottom of the valley like a puma trapped in a well.

  The tarps went into storage nests forward from the engines and sealed for space flight. He popped open the hatch between the engines and walked forward, happy to be back on the old, wooden floors that just felt so much more right. Past the Larder and all his various food stuffs he had been able to supplement with local snakes. Past the Branch where his compact turds got stored and processed. Forward from the Cactus where he slept, at least while in flight.

  Glaxu had taken to sleeping under the ship occasionally, just because this stupid planet did remind him so much of home.

  Finally, he squatted down onto his flight saddle and stretched his legs forward. Glaxu was simply unable to envision how the pitiful humans could fly and fight at the same time, without using their feet, but they managed. And some of them were even at an acceptable rate of expertise.

  At least as long as they weren’t engaging his full nest in deep space fracas. Then they were usually in over their heads, which was the risk you chose when you went into space.

  Preflight didn’t take long. He had shut the ship down carefully when he parked here, expecting to be a while if he had to sneak up on someone.

  Outermost responded to power with a warm, happy hum, and Glaxu pulled back on the control yoke. Straight up the well the puma climbed, emerging into the sunlight with an angry growl.

  It was a short flight, but he felt like pushing the envelope a little, so Glaxu rotated the ship’s geometry into a form he rarely used, looking something like an ocean ray with the forward canards to full, lateral extension and the main wings rotated as far forward as they would go and then slid out.

  This shape gave him a lift capability that was stupendous, compared to his more combat-ready forms, at a cost of speed, but he was less than a three kilometers from the human camp already. He lit the engines and idled over to the humans like a hungry ray.

  After all, they had probably never seen a Mondi fightership in their lives. They would need to appreciate how dangerous it could be.

  Just like the pilot.

  18

  Bayjy

  She kinda laughed when she thought about it, but kept her face all stern and stuff. Bayjy Endon: gun-toting, ass-kicking, pirate babe.

  Sure.

  Captain liked to talk about no longer having to be a killer, with the three of them around, bu
t she had no doubts about how dangerous that boy could be when pressed. She’d seen death take up residence in those blue-green eyes a time or two.

  And adding the cute birdman hadn’t altered that equation. She was still the least dangerous person here, even with a short-range plasma rifle strapped on her hip. Kyrie was ex-cop with all that martial arts training. And Big Guy was seriously the ex-Dominator, on the run from his ex-wife and whole empire?

  Bayjy let a little grin slip out. Maybe her nose scrunched a little bit with the humor. She could pass it off as a response to the endearing attempts of these other punks to look tough around them. She could even give them lessons, but then she’d sailed with Butler Vidy-Wooders for a couple of years before this crew.

  She understood how to project it like a fire hose.

  Captain had parked the sled in the driveway out front when they arrived. And he’d driven down the hill slow enough that everybody got just a little wind-whipped, but not sanded down.

  Everyone around here was either wearing desert robes, or had gone for that standard spacer look men apparently ordered out of the same catalog: tall boots, tight pants tucked in, light shirt tucked in, and either a vest or a jacket.

  Did this Truqtok dude have a contract with Central Casting to handle extras and costuming?

  At least she’d known that there would be air conditioning in this small hellhole, so she’d fallen back on her heatsuit under the sort of pants and shirt that guaranteed most men never remembered the color of her eyes, if they even noticed she had a face in the first place.

  Kyrie actually had a better butt, but that girl was too self-conscious about it most of the time to use it as a weapon. Unless she was going after Captain. Totally different story there.

  Bayjy led, because screw you people. All of you.

  She sauntered through the big double doors like a princess returning from a year at war and sniffing aloud at the failure of the help to keep the place clean. A couple of the men looked like they might take umbrage. She marked them for an extra, sneering smile as she went by.