by Pam Uphoff
He must have had a weak unnoticeable spell on himself. Not that he stands out anyway.
"And watch your swearing. Ladies pretend they don't do it here, and you really don't want to attract attention swearing in an unusual fashion. In the wrong language. Stay inside until the soldiers have moved on."
He strolled on, looking unimportant.
He is unimportant. Fean stepped back inside the hotel lobby. She imagined she could hear snores from here. She eyed the "ladies' parlor," turned her back and walked out. Maybe if she headed south she could get away from the stench of those pigs.
Three blocks wasn't far enough. She stopped and dug out a handkerchief. Breathing through it didn't help.
It did garner a laugh from two passing soldiers.
"You'd think the lower classes would be used to the smell of their own middens."
Fean glowered at them. And pulled on her best High German. "I have nothing to do with pigs." Of course the use of "pig" as an insult to policemen will escape them, and they are more occupation troops than cops.
The one with more glittery bits to his black uniform grinned. "You must be Spanish, perhaps a bit of the Moor in your background, Nein?" He stepped up closer.
Such a pretty blonde. Such a flat uninteresting animal glow.
"Come keep me entertained for awhile."
Fean gawped, realized that looking down her nose wasn't the right expression for the situation. Anyway, he surely doesn't mean sex . . . Oh One Hell, of course he means sex. He thinks he's the pinnacle of humanity, and is doing me a favor.
"No." Fean thought that over. "Danke."
"Oh?" A narrowing of the eyes and the man stepped into her space.
She leaned away from him, took a step back to maintain her balance. This is not going well. How did that manipulation work, damn it, we all drilled in how to excite men, and didn't practice nearly enough on subduing their libidos.
"You prefer it rough, in the alley?" He shoved her back.
She turned to run, and he reach around her and grabbed her breast.
She spun, tossed him over her hip, turned back and kicked the second man in the crotch, kept turning and slapped the ass. She tossed a bare whiff of a stun spell with it. "How dare you!" Nose in the air, she marched off. Out of the corner of her eyes she could see him stagger to the wall and brace himself. Got the strength of that stun about right.
He didn't follow. She walked briskly back to the hotel. The Ladies' Parlor still looked boring, no to mention visible from the lobby, so she walked up to the room she shared with Princess Song.
"Ach, there you are." The old woman clicked her tongue. "Oh, I despise this language. Get this zipper, then we can meet the others for breakfast."
The place they had agreed to meet for breakfast was at a smaller, dingier . . . place. Fean wasn't sure it qualified as a restaurant, what with everyone just going and getting their own food from a long line of heated . . . troughs. For some values of "everyone."
Madam Song wasn't about to stand in line. "Fern, go fetch me two more pfankutchen, more butter and less syrup, this time."
Dan and Hob looked amused, but fortunately didn't have the nerve to order her around. Fean was only surprised she was allowed to sit with her betters. But then that made it easier to order her around.
Fean forced a smile onto her face. "Yes, Madam."
Ajha and Leggy walked in late. They paused briefly at their table. "The troops seem to be setting a semi-permanent camp to the north. I think we'll just pick up the beacon and move a few hundred miles before we start looking for birds."
"And they're rude and pushy. I had to slap one this morning."
Ajha winced. "Remind me to train you in some more subtle ways to get out of that sort of trouble."
Fean sniffed.
Ajha stepped over to a separate table, and Leggy followed silently.
Ride blasted in a moment later. "They took the car and the truck! They just walked up and said they were needed and drove off with them!"
"Soldiers?"
"Yes, some bloody officer. He . . . he said something about arrogant Moors and, well, he was obviously looking for a fight."
Leggy, Hob, and Dan looked at her.
Moors. Oh. Crap. Those officers I assaulted. Figures they'd be slimy and know how to get a larger serving of revenge.
Madam Withy sat up straight, clearly furious. "They took the cages? How dare they! This is important science!"
Ajha nodded. "We'll have to get them back. Eat, and then we'll figure out where they've taken the vehicles."
Fean looked at the mess on her plate. Rather like the mess I just made. She put her fork down. So, how do I fix it?
After breakfast they shifted to an alley, where they could speak more openly.
"Hob? Was your electronic kit in the truck." Ajha perked up when the young man shook his head. "See if you can find the troops radio communications. You'll probably need to decode them."
Fean tried to not look hopeful.
"Ride, Leggy, go north and see if the truck or car are at their construction site. Dan and I will check to the south." Ajha's gaze paused on Madam Song. "You two need to scout to the east. Look for birds, Fean, sorry, Fern, keep your eyes open for troop activity that direction."
Right. We're being sent to the least risky area. Beats being sent to our room . . . barely. One Damn it all.
But as they turned to leave, he touched her elbow.
She stiffened.
"Fean, Madam Song is why we are here, and she isn't . . . suited for this. Keep her out of trouble, and if worse comes to worse, hike back to the beacon and shove her through, and go through yourself. But keep her safe."
What? Run from a bunch of zero talents?
She was still fuming two hours later. Even though it was clear that the Clostuone had Madam Song pegged correctly. Silly woman was running about like a lunatic, watching birds, tracking them to their nests, taking notes on habitat and how many gross bugs were being fed to their repulsively ugly offspring.
The team leader contacted her mid-afternoon.
:: The truck is in the southern camp. The commander is using the car as his personal vehicle. It was to the north, this morning, but we can't count on it remaining there. We're in town, and we'll pack everything in the hotel, including you and Madam Song's gear, and head south. Grab the truck and go pick up the beacon. We'll move west and set up away from any troops. We'll take the car if we can, or write it off if we can't. ::
:: What should I do? :: She hated to ask, and hoped she didn't sound whiney. Whiney wasn't impressive.
:: Can you steer Madam Song to the south? We could pick you up on the road south of the army camp. ::
Fean scowled over at the insane old woman. :: Right. ::
She walked over to the tree that Madam Song was trying to fall out of. "Do you think we should follow the stream down hill? I think I remember a boggy looking spot from the road when we drove in."
"Oh, excellent idea! Wetlands are diversity hotspots." The old woman climbed down, the tree shaking . . . but sturdy enough to take her weight. She settled her safari tool belt around her ample hips and marched off.
Only as far as the next new bird. "A loggerhead shrike! They're one of the target species. We need to get back here with a cage and netting . . . "
Fean settled down in the grass, full lotus, and sank into her meditation state. Reached out mentally, open to all the thoughts around her. The road was less than a kilometer away, so there was good chance she could hear team communications . . . How did that person talk to me from so far away?
She shoved the thought aside and listened . . . blocked out the single minded fascination of the old Princess . . . and there it was.
:: still parked there. :: The mental voice felt like Ride.
:: No troops in town. :: Was that Dan? It was faint and a bit odd.
:: Just ordinary chatter on their radios. :: Hob, no doubt, with his electronics kit. :: I've tapped their communications wi
th headquarters, as well. They're out here hunting rebels. That Captain is pushing to get the area cleaned before winter. I don't think he likes the cold. ::
:: Good. Leggy will keep the gate guards controlled and not noticing anything while I go get the truck. We'll pick up Song and Fern, then get the beacon while you three leave town. :: The Team Leader's mental voice was strong and clear.
:: That neat car . . . :: Ride sounded wistful.
:: No. It is not important. :: Firm and certain.
Damn, why couldn't I draw a big sexy brawny Withione for a team leader. Ajha's mental voice is almost enough to make me over look the thinning hair. Well, not really but he does have an attractive mental voice.
Fean closed back up and stretched. Stood up . . . and failed to spot Madam Song.
Chapter Three
15 May 2288
De Kalb, Illinois, North America, World 163
What's the worse direction she could go? Straight into the enemy camp, of course.
Fean bolted downstream, looking both directions. And especially west, toward the road. And damn that khaki tan get up, she really was pretty hard to spot, even with spring greenery all over. There was still old winter killed grass stalks, brushy limbs, yellow and red wildflowers, tree trunks, shadows . . . Movement against the brown line of the road . . .
Fean galloped down, relieved. She didn't get very far. She carefully negotiated the barbed wire fence along the road, over grown by brush and saplings and vines.
Leggy was standing frozen in the road. Staring at the road.
"Leggy! Aren't you supposed to be fuzzing out the guards?"
"D, d, dra, dra . . . dragon." He backed away, pointing.
"What? Are you hallucinating?" Fean stomped over to the perfectly empty patch of road . . . no wait. She leaned and scooped up the little lizard as it tried to scuttle away. "Surely you don't mean this?" She held it out toward the idiot.
He screamed and fled. Back toward town.
"Leggy? Leggy! Oh crap. Just what we needed, a fruitcake on the team." She tossed the lizard into the brush and trotted south. She needed to find Madam Song, and there were some guards who needed to be fuzzed out, on their feet, not noticing much, but gullible. Completely open to suggestions like, "We have the Captain's permission to take the truck. Open the gate."
Madam Song got there first.
She was pointing up into a tree with her left hand and shaking her other forefinger in the face of a trooper. " . . . endangered song birds. You need to understand the complex web of species interactions to . . . "
In the Oner version of English that included lots of Arabic, Chinese and Spanish words. Oh, One. Fean wrapped an unnoticeable spell around herself and eased up close. Close enough to feel the half amused thoughts of the guard, and the two behind him . . . And half wary, starting to wonder where this madwoman was from.
Fean breathed out a faint translation spell, and fogged memory just a bit. Gullibility, One, were they going to believe everything that woman told them? Fean licked her lips and dared a whispered suggestion. "She's that woman who convinced the captain to give back the truck. Her driver will be back in a moment with the truck and take this strange lady away."
Could she hold all these spells and also reach Ajha? Not a chance.
Another whisper. "Song, call Ajha to bring the truck, and your cages."
"Oh good idea." In her strong clear voice. "Hurry up Ajha!" Mental and physical shout.
Fean winced. The guards twitched. She poured more power into her spells.
The guards fogged back out. But shifting and uneasy.
Fean heard a truck start, somewhere back in the camp. A truck pulled out from behind other, and turned their direction. "Open the gate," she breathed. "You have the papers." Her head jerked around.
Madam Song was climbing the tree.
Fean choked faintly. Her head was throbbing, and the guards were fumbling with the gate, clearly starting to fight off her influence.
Ajha drove through the gate, and stopped.
The guard nearest guard started fumbling for his gun . . . and sagged down to the ground. Fean felt the other two fold as well and let her own spells go.
"What happened to Leggy?"
"He freaked over a lizard."
"Dammit. Well, get in and . . . "
"Excellent! They aren't laying yet!" Madam Song climbed back down. Swept a hand at the tree. Small birds tumbled down, and she started scooping them up. "Fern, we need four of the smallest cages."
Ajha gawped. "Quick, we need to get out of here."
He boosted her into the back and turned to Madam Song. "Do you want to ride in back and see how they do?"
"Certainly not. The girl can do that." She started handing up stunned birds. "Four pairs a male and female in each cage, can't have the males fighting, you know."
Fern pulled cages out of cages out of cages and pack one dull and one bright bird in each of the smallest. Collapsed and sat on the floor. "I do not believe this is happening."
The truck jolted into gear. Fean trusted that Ajha had loaded Madam Song.
Next time I have to baby sit, she's going to be bound and gagged.
Ajha pushed the speed, and they arrived at the beacon site quickly. Ajha poked until he'd found it, scraped off the sod it had been covered with and hauled it out of the ground without any ceremony or delicacy.
He caught her look and grinned. "They're sturdy. Relax . . . One bloody Hell, what is that woman doing? Grab more cages, we have to go, right now."
Just two pairs of whateverthehell bird, this time.
Madam Song was bustled back into the truck and Fean climbed into the back.
They bumped over grass tussocks, and Fean started strapping down the occupied cages. The poor birds fluttered back awake and panicked. The truck turned onto the paved road and sped up. Slowed suddenly. The truck bumped to a halt. Leggy scrambled into the back, and it picked up speed. He froze when he spotted her. Panting and sweating.
Got over his fit and was running back to help. Idiot. "No lizards, no dragons," she assured him. Act non-threatening. This is not the time to make him run away screaming. Maybe tomorrow . . .
He shuddered and slid down to sit as far away from her as he could. "You can't tell about pretty girls, you know. They change." He eyed her suspiciously.
She opened her mouth to ask, then shut it. Later. I don't want to scare him into another fit until we're safe. Definitely tomorrow.
Her head throbbed. She couldn't even block out Ajha talking to the others.
:: Hob, pack up, we're inbound. Dan, how's the street look? ::
:: Ready to go. :: That was Hob.
Silence.
:: Dan! :: Short and sharp. Like a stab through her brain.
She felt him doing that awareness thing, feeling forward . . .
:: One! He's passed out drunk! :: Hob again.
:: Leggy! We're going to pull up to the bar. Fetch Dan, he's drunk. Fean, take the gear from Hob and stow it. ::
Fean peered out the back as they slowed. Hob walked out, loaded with all the luggage they'd taken out of the truck for their stay. Leggy jumped out and headed for the bar. Hob tossed gear up to her, then hustled back in to help drag the almost conscious Dan to the back of the truck.
It took both men to boost him into the truck. Fean grabbed an arm and dragged him in. Dumped him in the middle of the floor. Drunk? On duty? She eyed Leggy. All right, so this isn't exactly an elite team. But no doubt this was just an aberration. It won't happen again.
Ajha was underway as Hob and Leggy heaved themselves in.
Fean felt a soft unnoticeable spell ooze out as they turned west on the northern highway. She peeked out the back as they rolled out of town, past a pig farm. Past the construction site. Their car parked in plain sight. Damn it. I ought to have stayed in that dingy little parlor. No sign of Ride. She swallowed. Surely he's all right.
A kilometer down the road, they slowed. Ride scrambled up into the back of the
truck. Paused as he spotted Dan. "What happened?"
"Whiskey. One only knows how much." Hob shrugged. "I just tossed a twenty to the bartender as we hauled him out.
They drove all night, swapped drivers and drove most of the next day.
When they finally stopped, it was in a tiny town with a public camping area, and no place to get Leggy alone to question. Fean glowered at him, and watched him, Ride and Dan all edge away from her. Ajha eyed them, and then her. A hint of iron will and disapproval.
Fean put on her best innocent expression and turned to Madam Song. "Shall I heat some water so you can wash up?"
The road was beyond horrible, and close to undrivable.
Fortunately there were fueling stations available regularly, in the tiny towns spotted along the road. Given the small population of North America on this world, it was almost surprising they had so few problems.
"All vehicles are made with extra large fuel tanks." Ajha explained. "Away from the major cross continental highways—little though they deserve the name—the population density is even lower. And lower even along the highways, as we move west."
They rearranged crates and luggage to serve as chairs in the back, for the five people riding back there. They hardly missed the car. Really. Fean ignored a few dirty looks aimed her direction.
They stopped three times during the week to collect birds.
They camped, setting up small personal tents just large enough to sleep in. Madam Song's was larger. They scavenged wood for fires, and took turns cooking the canned local foods. A few times they bought fresh vegetables.
"I don't know how to cook!" Fean tried for disdainful and heard panic and horror in her voice.
"It's a basic survival skill, across, er, Fern. The canned foods are already cooked, it's just a matter of heating them up and maybe adding a few spices." Ajha looked like he was having trouble not laughing. "Give it a try."
She burned everything.
The next evening, at the next camp, Fean saw his eyes tracking something and spotted some sort of large bird slinking into the brush.
