by Chogan Swan
One stretched muscles sore from the last days of intense exercise and stared at the light filtering from above—thinking.
What was HumanaH’s purpose in all this?
HumanaH was unstable. Though, as one recalled, ShwydH had thought her magnificent. But there were periods when a mood that was almost a madness infected her.
This could certainly be the result of one of those.
One supposed ShwydH might consider this a flattering attempt to get closer to him. ShwydH had been attracted by HumanaH’s beauty, her powerful personality and even the aura of danger she radiated. It might also have had something to do with her saving his life every day.
Perhaps HumanaH thought this move would free her from the obligations that kept her from stepping through what she had called the veil.
ShwydH had found a stack of human books in Spanish including a copy of the early Reina Valera version of the human Bible in their rooms at the Arizona base. When he'd asked her about them, she'd said she wanted to make sure she still had them all in her memory without gaps. It wasn't until ShwydH had read both Don Quixote and the Bible that he thought he might have an idea what she meant by “the veil.”
One moved the automatic rifles from the table, sliding them into their padded-canvas cases and leaned them against the wall. Now the table held the items one was considering taking from the crèche. Food was running low and it was time to depart.
There is more here than one can easily carry.
One spent a few moments, reviewing relevant memories from both ShwydH and Riniana then considered….
HumanaH's letter had said all the ammunition should still be viable for the firearms. The gunpowder was a stable compound of her own design. It might be best to leave both of the BARs here to improve mobility. If needed, one could come back; the combination to the door was mechanical, and one could change it from the inside.
We will take one rifle and half the ammunition.
That made more sense. Mobility and firepower needed to be balanced. Riniana's experience and training as a mobile scout would have helped ShwydH immeasurably over the last two centuries without even considering her fighting techniques.
Perhaps one could, leave much of the clothing behind. After centuries of secrecy, most of the world outside the US, now knew aliens had landed. Most people in the US wouldn't know yet, because of the devastation to US communications and power grid after the EMP attack by a splinter group within the deep state.
The US military was still operational though. One’s tail twitched at the thought. It would be best to keep out of sight of them. That would require at least some disguise to control outside knowledge of one’s origin.
The rest of one’s list had already been decided. One would carry both of the pistols, a kukri knife, a folding knife and one BAR with a distance scope. A single set of clothes with a shemagh to cover head and face should suffice. Backup edged weapons could go in the pack with ammunition, canteens, fire starters and the like.
After a few minutes of preparation, a last shower and a long drink of water, one stood in front of the massive stainless-steel door and, after a few minutes of struggle, pushed it open. It seemed one’s new body was also in need of a high-protein diet and strength exercise.
Heat poured into the chamber. The door had opened onto a narrow, sun-lit gully. HumanaH had placed the entrance so none could see her entering or departing. Her letter said the crèche was in Texas, somewhere in the Guadalupe Mountains. One sifted the smells coming in until satisfied that no humans were near then stepped through the opening. The rock-faced doorway was easier to close than open, and the gully soon widened onto a highly placed vista. One looked out on the wild, rocky landscape below and lifted the riflescope on the BAR to survey the distance. A highway to the south was just visible in the clear, dry air. One noted a handful of antelope squirrels lounging on the sand beneath their bushy white tails, but there were no humans in sight.
Shouldering the pack and slinging the rifle in front of one’s left shoulder, one set off down the hill to the west.
CHAPTER 5 – PREDATORS
By the middle of the second day, one had covered about 200 kilometers. But at the moment, one was being still. A puma blocked the trail—a large male with a torn ear. It stared at one. Then, turning, it sauntered into the scrub, pausing to cast a final glance back.
ShwydH had known how to produce smells that would convince most of the big cats of Earth to avoid him, but one had chosen not to try. The Riniana Tiana memories might not be able to reproduce one’s intended smell and an apex predator like the puma might decide its territory was being challenged.
It was fortunate the cat had not been hungry or threatened. One would have hated to advertise one’s presence by shooting it. It would have been nice if the crèche supply had contained silencers for the 1911s.
The ration packets were now gone, and one would need to eat again soon. One had been moving west, roughly parallel with the highway to the south
A few hours later, the shadows were growing long. A slight breeze came from the west, bringing with it the furry scent of a herd of whitetail deer. One could hear them browsing on scrub just over the rise ahead.
Coming over the ridge, one used a boulder at the top of the rise to stay concealed. The opposite side was a drop off, and one was above the herd. The nearest deer, a young buck, was an easy jump away. Hungry, one’s hand drifted to the kukri. A short chopping stab would pith the buck—a painless death. What one did not eat the coyotes would finish. One eased the rifle to the ground and tensed. A memory flooded his mind.
It looks like Darmien
… Riniana Tiana's dymba childhood friend.
One released the handle of the kukri. The creature wasn't even sentient, but the thought of killing it sent a shudder through one from neck to tail. One looked at them again as they browsed on the twigs and leaves of the mesquite then retrieved the rifle and moved ahead. The herd bounded away with long graceful leaps.
The mesquite here at higher elevation had produced a small autumn crop that was ready to harvest. It wasn't strong food, but it was nutrition and would fill one’s stomach. But if one wasn't careful, the mesquite thorns would damage the only set of clothes one had.
∆ ∆ ∆
The sunset blazed across the horizon, a fiery background for the jutting limestone crags of Guadalupe Peak to the south. One had paused to appreciate the colors of the sky with both eyes from time to time while gathering mesquite pods. In an hour, one had about ten liters—not counting those that were lost to one’s own grazing while gathering. As the sun kissed the mountains, one sat and ate the pulp between the seeds and the shells, saving the seeds for grinding later but throwing the shells under the tree where they could nourish the roots and keep the ground a bit moister.
ShwydH would never have bothered doing that before coming under HumanaH's influence.
One kept throwing the shells under the tree anyhow.
HumanaH had always treated ShwydH fairly. She hadn't needed to—what with the leverage of being one of only three persons who could keep him alive. But she had treated ShwydH like an equal … like a friend. In the NiiaH Empire, nobody made friends, so HumanaH was the only friend ShwydH had ever had.
Does that mean she's my friend too?
HumanaH had given one life. Maybe she thought of one as another branch-sister. It seemed unlikely though … too much to ask. Perhaps it was more like an experiment.
One felt a darker notion rising up.
Maybe it is punishment, to inflict on me the memory of what happened to her when I know it's coming but cannot stop it.
One squelched the idea. Even at her most unstable, HumanaH would not intentionally loose a monster with a thirst for revenge on her and all she loved.
One tossed a final handful of shells under the tree.
It would have been nice if HumanaH had been more forthcoming in her brief letter concerning her intentions, but perhaps she only wanted to free Shwy
dH after providing him a new perspective. She might not have understood that she would end up making a new person altogether.
One lay down for a brief nap, using the pack for a pillow. When the moon came up, it would be easy enough to keep going. It was safer to walk at night, one could avoid the nocturnal wildlife with little trouble, and the chance of a sniper shooting one for one’s possessions was lower in the dark.
One woke to a distant smell of burning wood and sat up to scan upwind. A gleam, like firelight reflecting from boulders, flickered downslope to the east perhaps a kilometer away.
The wind had changed as one slept. It could be a campfire; the smoke might mask the smell of one or two humans. One stood, shouldered pack and gear and set off toward the light. If someone’s buried campfire had reignited, it would need putting out.
As one closed the distance, it became clear there was one human at the fire site … a male.
One steered toward a higher point of ground that offered a better vantage and—using the riflescope—was able to see him. The air had chilled to about five degrees centigrade. It was, by no means, cold enough to bother one, but the human, wearing only a hooded sweatshirt a stocking cap and jeans, didn't even have a blanket. He crouched by the tiny fire, holding his trembling hands over it.
One studied his face. Though partly concealed by the hood and the cap beneath it, one could see it was a bit sallow and scarred from acne. He was young, thin and frowning, no doubt concerned about where his next meal was coming from.
The mesquite pods in one’s foraging bag rustled as one shifted weight.
Should I offer him some food? Trade?
Even thin and hungry the man held nourishment between his legs that would provide one with strength for much-needed muscle building. Approached correctly, he would probably be glad to give it over too. ShwydH had watched HumanaH simply walk up to human males and exchange a few words after which they would follow her wherever she led them.
The trouble was, one didn't have a clue how to produce the pheromones that would create that kind of reaction. ShwydH had learned to build mutualistic relationships with female humans during the last six years, but the males were different. Riniana's memories had almost 2,000 years to go before she would even meet her first human.
One tilted back one’s head and looked at the moon and stars. Did one even want to adopt the nii diet restrictions?
One already knew that eating sentients didn't turn out well—at least in the long run. ShwydH had modeled the niiaH strategy enough to know it would never reach a stable equilibrium. It always failed. One’s lip twitched. That didn't mean some individuals didn't get away with it though.
Perhaps it just came down to figuring out what one wanted to do. What kind of relationships did one want to have?
Based on ShwydH's experience, living in a culture of ethical trust and cooperation was much better than being surrounded by ruthless predators.
On the other hand, there was a name for ethical sentients surrounded by ruthless predators….
Lunch.
As one considered approaching the human male and the fire, a realization that one might not be able to count on communicating effortlessly, came to mind.
Though ShwydH's memories held the knowledge of an entire suite of human languages, one had not practiced speaking any of them. In addition, Riniana Tiana had, as yet, no muscle memories of using them for human speech. Well, the light-skinned male at the fire would probably make assumptions about a dark-skinned female with uncertain language skills. One could practice sub vocally for a few moments on the way to the fire.
One hid the rifle and the pack between two boulders, paused for a moment to consider whether to keep one of the pistols in the holster under one’s skirt, but decided to leave both with the pack and rifle. No smell of gunpowder or gun oil touched the man's person or possessions, so he wasn't armed that way. The kukri in its sheath between one’s shoulder blades was enough. One moved toward the fire silently, using Riniana's scout training, mixed with ShwydH's experience from his time in the desert learning from HumanaH while defending the Sun Sea Farm.
Just outside the fire’s light, one paused, examining the man from close up. Since he was staring at the fire, night blindness would mean it would take several seconds for him to see one. The male had not bathed for a long period. One’s nosed twitched at the assault from the odor's proximity. Well, water was scarce. It was excusable.
One stepped forward. “Good evening. May I share your fire? I have some food.”
The man leaped to his feet at the sound of one’s voice and pulled a large folding knife from his pocket. It took him a few seconds as he fumbled the deployment of the blade, and two seconds more to spot where one stood as she stood unmoving in gray-brown clothing with her face hidden by the shemagh.
The knife was a clunky karambit blade made to impress with its jagged extensions and size. Its loose pivot washers rattled when it locked. One snorted through the nose quietly. As an ally, this one would be more liability than an asset in a fight.
“I'm sorry to startle you,” one said. “I saw your fire and came to see.”
“Who are you? Where are you from? Why do you hide your face?” He spun to peer outside the fire. “Are you alone? Did someone in your group send you in first to distract me?”
“I have no group.” One touched the shemagh. “This is the custom of my people.” That much was certainly true … on this planet anyway.
“Effing sand niggers,” the man muttered under his breath, clearly not meaning for one to hear.
Racial bias…. Not a desirable outlook for a companion. One considered walking away. Still, there was the possibility of an exchange that would be beneficial for both before leaving.
One tapped the forage bag. “I found food earlier. Are you hungry?”
The knife lowered a fraction as his eyes moved to the forage bag. “What do you have?” He licked his chapped lips. “Water?”
One nodded, taking the canteen from the forage bag and opening it. “Toss me your cup or canteen, and I will pour you some.”
The man backed cautiously to his pack, reached inside and pulled out a soup can. He threw it toward her; the toss was low … intentionally low. One could hear the shift in his heartbeat. One stood, waiting for him to charge. The man stood tense, waiting for one to reach for the can.
One stepped forward and kicked it back to him instead. “Try again. No tricks this time.” Perhaps this small show of strength would discourage violence.
“It just slipped out of my hand,” the man said. A shade of whining colored his words.
“Perhaps it would help your aim if you put the knife away.”
He picked up the can again and tossed it again, accurately this time, though he kept the knife in hand.
One caught the can, dumped water into it from the canteen then placed it on the ground and stepped back.
The man's eyes narrowed. “What's in the water?”
Instead of answering, one stepped forward and drank several swallows from the canteen, not taking eyes off the man.
“Perhaps I should just leave now.” One took another step back. “I wish you luck.”
“No. I'm sorry. It's just that not everyone is safe. Trusting people can get you killed pretty quick these days.”
“These days, those days, all days,” one said, voice even.
The man closed the knife and put it in his pocket. Stepping closer to the can, he picked it up, sniffing it before drinking then draining it all.
“If I meant you harm,” one said, putting the canteen back in the bag. “I could have hit you from behind by throwing a rock while you were staring at the fire.”
Inside one, impatience was rising. One reflected a moment on the source of the feeling. The ShwydH part of one’s mind was deeming this a waste of time. Without the leash of his dependence on HumanaH, ShwydH would have been tempted to just take what he needed and go. One wondered why it seemed important to follow this transaction
to the end … to see who this person was.
“What do you want from me?” said the man. “I don't have anything to give you … unless,” he hooked his thumbs in his belt and pointed to his crotch with both forefingers. “Unless you are interested in this,” he said with a leer as he unsnapped his jeans and lowered the zipper, displaying his lack of undergarments.
For an instant, one envied the human ability to laugh that ShwydH had never truly acquired—in spite of Ayleana's insistence on tutoring him.
Then the man rushed.
One recalled the layout of the terrain behind one, concluding that no sharp rocks or obstacles indicated a need to dodge. One could receive the charge without worrying about that. One dropped the forage bag and brought hands inside the man's arms. As their bodies collided, one plucked the karambit from his pocket and tossed it away while pulling him close with the other arm.
