As Mira approached the road and the beginning of her long journey east, she found herself in an awkward position. True, operating without her Partner - indeed, having to attempt to rescue him - was a situation well covered in her Training. OK, not exactly covered - it was more along the lines of a captured Partner after the Two had started working togther, for even the Mature would consider her timers reaching zero so soon after his capture as too unlikely to plan for. Actually, she would have expected an automatic awakening of the other should one’s sleep chamber be tampered with ...
And his memory losses - which weren’t covered - could be mostly overcome by his reading her mind for her Training, or using the information in the banks of her hibernation computer - his, in fact, would return to him anything particular to his, though they could manage without it if they had to.
Of course there were the dangers of operating in a world of the Immature. But all Adult Eldebranis were decidedly strong and highly coordinated, and that included six-foot tall females. As part of her Training, she had been taught several unarmed fighting techniques to start with, and then there were lessons in the use of blunt, sharp, and thrown objects. There had also been a remarkably detailed course, with its attendant practices, in the handling of that rod in her backpack. She was definitely well-prepared to defend herself!
However, being a female unaccompanied by a male had certain unavoidable consequences in a world of the Immature. One was Sun-charging, for it was both likely that exposing her upper body in public was considered unacceptable and, if observed, likely to attract attention from Earth males. Fortunately, she could use her Medallion to check the solar fluxes and so avoid Sun-poisoning in case a solar flare were occurring. More importantly, she could mentally control the garment she wore under her travelling-coat, making it temporarily permeable to the Z-rays she needed to survive. There was a price for that - most of the other solar rays were still screened out and the Charge “tasted” as flat as an Earthly cracker, as she later learned to put it, one of the many prices of being a Missionary Healer.
Other problems were not so easy to deal with. For one thing, unlike her male Partner, she presumably couldn’t normally offer a “day’s labor for a night’s shelter and food”. Immatures were apt to misunderstand, and though she had been prepared to use her body in exceptional cicumstances, “exceptional” meant exactly that! Even camping out had its problems. So would getting rides from passing motorists. Then there were the local law-enforcement members ... she could expect plenty of harassment. But then, rescuing Bennu would solve a LOT of problems.
Speaking of problems, she had been walking along the road for only ten minutes when they showed up, in the form of a biker gang roaring along at some highly illegal speed. [Because of the requirement that Phoenix episodes be no stronger than PG, it has been necessary to greatly censor the language and amend some of the names of the gang.]
Ratface: “Hey, Pigsty, that’s a babe!”
Pigsty: “Whoa, let’s check this out.”
Mira came to full alert as she realized she’d been targeted, but she didn’t have the time to reach the rod in her backpack before she was pounced on. She gave a good account of herself against 20 enemies, breaking Ratface’s jaw with a flying elbow (actually improving his profile after it healed), but a wrench to the back of her head quickly settled matters.
She was roped to a biker’s back and the gang reversed course. A short distance down the road they turned off and onto an unmarked path. They followed it into a woods, then continued until they reached a small clearing and their “headquarters”. Hindquarters might have been a better term, for “dilapidated” was, if not accurate, then kind.
A similar term - grungy - was applicable to the gang, which truly lived up to all of the sterotypes - white, male, drunks, druggies, dirty, dangerous, and most assuredly not law-abiding.
Mira awoke to find herself stripped naked with her arms and legs tied to those of a rickety wooden chair. Two men were standing behind her, their hands roughly roaming across her upper body.
She spent some of her limited internal amount of Sunpower to heal her concussion, then began checking out her situation. Her Medallion, clothing, and backpack, contents spilled out, were on a filthy bed. Also sitting up on the bed was an equally filthy man, who, judging by the deferential tone the other used when they spoke to him, was the leader of this group of social misfits. His name was “Jay-O”.
She carefully tested her bonds. She could probably break them, and certainly free herself by shattering the chair. Good thing, for reading Jay-O’s mind - a disgusting task, but one which required nothing more than her native telepathic powers - showed his plans - a night of forced sexual activity followed by her being kept as a slave. Most of her possessions, Medallion included, would be sold the next day. She’d better hope she could defeat this group tonight, for without it she would die of Sun-starvation within the week.
And then she got lucky. As the leader, Jay-O claimed first rights to her. He ordered all but the two men standing behind her to leave the room, promising the others their chance later in the evening. The three then shared a white powder - undoubtedly an intoxicating substance. OK, 3 intoxicated Immature males seemed easy enough for her to handle, but she would have to find a way to do it quietly so she could reach her Medallion and her Weapon before the rest of the gang - some probably with those crude but effective tools of the Immature, firearms - attacked her.
Jay-O’s mind was as dirty as his body. He picked up the rod, power supply end in his hand. “Your nighttime companion?”
This was Mira’s chance! She tensed her muscles and said: “You’re holding it by the wrong end, silly.”
He shrugged and flipped it over. Many things happened in the next few seconds. Mira issued a mental command to it as the face end came around. While the thin beam it emitted was neatly bisecting Jay-O’s head she stood up, pieces of the chair flying in all directions, reached behind her, and slammed two skulls together hard ! She also had to cut off the disintegrator beam as the rod began to slip from a very dead Jay-O’s hand.
A few clatters and thuds - and one muffled crack as heads collided - were all the sounds the attack had made. Still, though Jay-O’s order to be left alone should buy her more than enough time, it was best to get dressed and get out! Pulling the chair pieces away let her slip out of the ropes. Then she raced towards the bed. Medallion first, then, drawing on its power, she began dressing while objects jumped back into her pack. There! Time to leave.
She picked up the rod. Again a thin beam leapt from its face as she cut a hole into the far wall. She slipped through it into the darkness, completing her primary escape.
All of that was well and good, but now what? She couldn’t just use her Weapon to eliminate her enemies; that was Immature thinking. Force, especially lethal force, was the last resource of the Mature, not the first. And there were still close to 20 people to deal with, too many for her Medallion to handle even if she were willing to deplete its charge until tomorrow morning, a most unwise idea.
Mira DID require transportation for her rescue of her Partner, and needing a way to escape from these people gave her the opportunity to obtain it. She walked quietly away from the house. There was a lone mind behind it, and if its owner were near one of those - bikes? - yes, bikes; trying to learn a language on the fly was difficult even for Adults trained to do so, as all Missionary Healers were. Fortunately Jay-O and the rest of his group were very visual in their thoughts, as the uneducated, unskilled as they were in the use of complex language patterns, had to be. She also took the time to sift his memories for the way out of the woods and the basic controls of what the man rode.
She held her Weapon out and sliced an overhanging branch from a tree, guiding it with a bit of Sunpower. The impact thoroughly disoriented an already intoxicated bike-owner and Mira used her chance to run to the bike and climb aboard. She was of course trained in the operation of simple internal-combustion engines, and it took less than a minute to identify those controls. The bike roared to life and she sped away.
Its owner staggered to his feet. “My bike! She’s stealing my bike!” Nobody could hear him over its roar, especially since that roar was approaching the front of the shack, where most of the gang were awaiting their turn - HAH! - as she headed towards the path and freedom.
As she swept by, Medallion glowing gently, her Weapon flashed again, its ray thicker this time as she slashed at the parked bikes of her would-be pursuers. Most tumbled to the ground, some spilling fuel from gashed tanks. One of the bikers, in the process of lighting a joint in front of the building, tossed his still-burning match away in astonishment. WHOOSH!
Bikers burst out of the shack to see what the commotion was all about. The man who owned the one Mira was riding screamed at them “She stole my bike! She’s escaping! GET HER!”
The two she had stunned were roused by the commotion. One commented: “Wow, what a babe!” To which the other replied: “She sure does pack a wallop. Oh, my HEAD. I need a beer. [pause] Oh, oh, she’s gone. Jay-O will KILL us.” Which brought the response: “No he won’t.” Both of them stared at the strangely wounded corpse.
That sight elicited one final comment: “I don’t know what that rod IS, but I know what it ISN’T!”
There was a bang! as a fuel tank exploded, setting the shack on fire. Bikers began running into it to save their stash of drugs - of course they sold drugs - or to retrieve weapons. A few mounted undamaged bikes and sped after her.
Mira wasn’t in the clear yet. It was night, the path was narrow, bumpy, and near trees on both sides, and she was not yet familiar with the balance and steering of her new vehicle. She had to be cautious with her speed, and she could hear hear pursuers closing in. Again her Weapon flashed, this time in blast mode, and trees, their trunks shattered, crashed across the path.
That did it! She burst onto the paved road and sped away, found a deserted area suitable for a no-fire campout - it was still warm in the evening - and, after stashing the bike behind a large tree, curled up next to it and went to sleep.
As for the bikers, those forced to give up the pursuit rejoined their companions (who had most of the money and drugs) and they left the area before the fire attracted unwelcome attention.
Fortunately, it had been a wet season with a heavy rain the previous day, and the fire didn’t spread. And nobody else complained that the local troublemakers were strangely quiet for quite a while, until they could rebuild their headquarters, buy new bikes, and, after a bloody struggle which then required the recruitment of several new members, agree on a new leader.
The next morning Mira awoke thoroughly disoriented. The Mature normally didn’t have such odd dreams. She thought Bennu would find them amusing. Bennu! Her Partner! This had been no dream. First, a Sun-charge, then a complete Healing. Leaving her Medallion out for the time being, she walked over to the bike.
Next she examined the contents of its saddlebags. Engraved paper certificates in what seemed to be decimal notation were almost surely money. Good, she would need it to pay for food and fuel at the very least. Whether she had enough she couldn’t yet know, but she would soon enough learn the basic pricing structure by reading minds. Other things seemed to be identification documents - several sets, in fact - another problem to solve, and she had no idea how strict law enforcement and societal taboos were in this country, either. Fortunately, she had her Documentator and telepathy. Oh, oh. Some of that white powder. Surely illegal. She dispersed it to the winds.
Well, well. What was that over there? A discarded can nearly full of rainwater. A little Sunpower sterilized the contents and she emptied it down her throat. UGH, but still enough to satisfy her immediate thirst. Her metabolism was fully awake now, too, and she had a few needs to satisfy - OK, with all of that taken care of, all she needed was that meal and fuel.
She allowed herself to enjoy a bit of relaxation before resuming her journey. Taking the rod out of her backpack, she flipped it in the air again and again, directing brief bursts of its power at an overhanging branch until she’d cut an elaborate Eldebrani decorative design into it.
Suddenly she stopped and looked in disgust at what she held. She sternly told herself: //Mira, that is NO toy, it’s a Weapon - and you haven’t been awake one daycycle of this planet yet and you’ve already used it to kill!//
Tears rolled down her face as she thought about what she’d had to do. One of them splashed onto her Medallion, and the Phoenix on it seemed to be weeping in sympathy. She shook her head sadly, then returned both items to their proper places. What she’d done, she’d done, and nothing could change that.
She had her Partner to rescue, and now she had the added burden of, having killed once, truly knowing how horrible it was, yet also knowing that she might well have to do so again. Immatures! She’d volunteered to help them, not bring yet more violence to their lives.
Written July 2000 Typed Dec. 7, 2003 Copyright Richard Kaplan