Kicking Ashe (8 page)

For what?

For getting you into this.

Into what?

We’re prisoners of the guy you love to hate.
She half-heartedly rubbed her wet hair, not averse to the cooling effect of the water running down her body.
I was so sure I was better than them all, so sure I could save the universe.

I think you did save the universe. With some help.

If we did it, how come the Time Base hasn’t sent someone in to retrieve us?

Saving the universe did not necessarily save the Time Base.

But wouldn’t you know? You’re the one who did it. Even if you changed your mind, wouldn’t you know?

Not even I understand how Time works.
In the pause she felt him thinking.
Perhaps we’re here for a reason.

What possible reason?
Besides a big, huge accident caused by their big, huge bomb, she didn’t add.

If Time sent us here, then time will reveal the reason.

She hated it when he turned Zen—she had to pause to get a definition of the word. Did she believe him because she wanted to believe there was some cosmic connection between her and Shan? It was stupid, juvenile even. He looked at her like he wanted to chew her up and spit her out. She needed to keep her distance or she was going to do something stupid—she huffed at herself—before doing something
else
stupid.

As long as she could remember, all she’d wanted to do was be in the Time Service. She did not remember when the feeling had grown in her. Perhaps it had always been there, like Lurch. When she turned fifteen Earth years, her father had given in and let her join. All the time, all the training, all the missing seasons with her family, the life she hadn’t lived. Was it worth it? If they’d done it, then yes, it had been worth it, but was it wrong to wish for…more?

You are weary, your resources depleted. With rest and food, your optimism will return.

Optimism. Usually he called it attitude and wanted her to lose it. Couldn’t accuse him of kicking her when she was down. She dragged on the robe and stepped up the basin, delaying the moment she must face these people again by trying this teeth brushing system. Odd and inefficient, she decided, as she rejected the comb and finger fluffed her hair. How ironic that the first man to ever try to get her out of her clothes wanted the uniform. Would he try to take it by force? The quiet drip, drip of water gave no answers. She stepped out, a bit surprised to find the room empty. She dumped the towel in the low-tech laundry basket, pausing to make sure it didn’t do anything more than just sit there. This was indeed an odd, primitive place, even if it was merely a camp.

She’d done something called a camping trip with some Earth cousins when she was very small. Uncle Istah had a portable plumping unit he wished them to try. In her memory, it had been deemed most satisfactory, though her mother might have been trying to be polite. Her plumbing standards were very high. Ashe did not ponder her mother’s reaction to this place because she knew it would fall in negative range and because she wanted her mother like a little girl. Wouldn’t take much to have her fetal and sucking her thumb.

Tired continued to drag at her as she padded to the cubicle that held the borrowed clothing. Her knickers dried during the short walk, so there was no hindrance to dressing, if she didn’t count her utter and complete exhaustion. She sank to the bench, pulled on the shirt and got the pants up to her knees before she ran out of steam. The curtain wavered a bit and she blinked, trying and failing to clear her vision.

You need to get moving. We need sustenance.

Sustenance. Right. Give me a minute.
Her lids drifted down…

If you sleep now, you will not waken.

Maybe that’s for the best. We shouldn’t be here. We should be…somewhere that isn’t here.

What if we are exactly where we should be?

You’re just saying that to give me a reason to get up and go eat.
It kind of worked because her lids lifted, though only partly. The curtain hung straight and still, silence inside and out. What if everyone had gone and left her alone in this place? She felt alone. The smell of the water and the soap she’d used lingered in the air. Her mouth felt fresher after the toothpaste, though that might be because her tongue was desperate to taste something. The structure felt warmer with the addition of moisture from her shower.

Someone in the last time line betrayed the Keltinarian people, betrayed him.

Surprise straightened her mushy spine.
The Constilinium.
Her brain replayed images of the red energy trails staining the time stream in places it shouldn’t have been.

Someone supplied it to the bad guy.

Would have been nice to know who the bad guy was before getting hosed by the time tsunami. But if we fixed time, that shouldn’t matter.

Time isn’t—

—tidy.
She’d gotten the memo about a hundred million times. On the other side of exhausted, she knew that food and rest would help. Which meant standing up, pulling up her pants and facing this world once again. And if she didn’t do it soon, Lurch was liable to over-deplete himself trying to help her.
What doesn’t kill us makes us strong.
She braced her hands on the bench and pushed, was a bit surprised when she made it upright, pulling her pants up at the same time, so she wouldn’t have to take on gravity again by bending down. She slid her feet into the sandals waiting under the bench, used the faint glow of virtue to get out of the dressing cubicle, rode it all the way to the tent flap. It might as well have been a wall, but luckily fingers not hers pulled the flap back.

Calendria peered inside. “Are you well, Lady?”

It was easier to nod, not that easy to step out into the wider compound. Everything looked a bit distant, a bit indistinct at the edges, though she did note that Shan was not in sight. That should have been relief, but he was the only familiar face in this place, which left her conflicted instead of relieved. From the clarity on the other side of tired, she realized that Shan wasn’t really familiar and that she not only wasn’t at the top of her game, but the bottom of her game was a fading goal. Was she lost
from
time, not just
in
time? If she were, then there would be no one riding the stream to her rescue.

We will rescue ourselves.

The bracing assertion helped as Calendria led her to the tent spouting smoke, once again holding the tent flap for her. Ashe was glad, because the walk across the compound left her upper lip beaded with sweat at the strain of trying to appear all right, of trying to walk like she wasn’t about to fall on her face. Inside they passed a couple of long tables with bench seating, and went  into a food preparation area. In a distant sort of way she noted a large, black stove, more large wooden tables and shelves cluttered with, according to Lurch, cooking pans and utensils and other items essential to primitive food preparation. There was also a huge sink area and other shelves with plates, bowls and cups needed in the consumption of foodstuffs. The mix of permanent and not permanent felt a bit odd, but then just about everything here felt odd, so Ashe wasn’t sure what could be learned from it all.

In front of one of the tables, stood a woman who appeared older than Calendria by a good bit. Her face showed lines, her eyes some wisdom. She stared at Ashe, a slight frown pulling her brows together. She shrugged as if shaking something off before moving toward them.

“This is Bana,” Calendria said.

Inside her, Lurch twitched, as if the name meant something to him. He rumbled a bit.
You can’t condemn people for something they haven’t done yet and might not do in this time line
. He shouldn’t need the reminder, but they were both off their game. The rumbling eased some. Felt a bit like a case of the flu incoming before it faded away. If Lurch had run into this Bana in the alternate reality, then it was possible that Bana felt some genetic memory echo, something her Earth cousins called
déjà vu
and others attributed to a sort of religious belief called reincarnation—except that Ashe and Bana had not met in that reality.

She met her.

Not-so-great grandma, Lurch’s first host, he meant.
I have her nose. That’s a pretty slight memory.

You also have her…aspect, her way of moving, and her spirit.

Oh.
Lurch would know—and know how much that annoyed. She and not-so-great grandma hadn’t exactly hit it off. Ashe pushed those thoughts away while she endured a prolonged inspection by the shrewd Bana—one also conducted from a slight distance. Ashe could kind of understand the don’t-touch-my-gal rule for the guys, but why couldn’t the girls at least shake hands?

“The Commander tells me you wish to serve here in the kitchen.”

Wish was a bit strong for what she felt, but she nodded because that was easier than explaining her wish was more a need for food. “I will need some instruction on your foodstuffs and procedures.” That sounded reasonable. And a good out when it became apparent how much she sucked at cooking.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Calendria said. “I’ll see you at eating hour, Lady.”

“Thank you for your assistance,” Ashe said. It wasn’t unknown for captives to attempt to bond with captors, which might explain why she wanted to cling like a baby griffon. But as captors, shouldn’t they want to create a bond of trust? Instead, Ashe sensed their desire for distance creating a conflict with their basic humanity. Why didn’t they want to like her, to feel a connection with her, to touch her? She needed someone on her side and she wasn’t sure she could manage it. Of course, best someone-on-her-side would be Shan since he was the guy in charge. Her interactions with him were complicated by her contact with Shan’s other reality self and Lurch’s unexpressed, but vehement issues with the man.

Left alone with Bana, Ashe stayed upright only because she was stubborn and so was Lurch. It wasn’t just about losing consciousness among strangers, though that was part of it. Darkness tried to press in, but she pushed it back, felt Lurch try to assist, felt how close he was to the edge, too.
If you aren’t careful, you’re going to extinguish yourself. Get into holding mode. I’m going to need you to survive this cooking lesson.

Confirmation she was right came when he withdrew, furling himself into a compact core that made her spine feel like it was melting.

Bana pushed a stool toward her. “Sit before you fall.”

Ashe didn’t have anything left to argue, not if she wanted to take the two steps to the stool. She dropped down, grabbing the edge of the table to keep from tumbling off.

“Thank you.” Darkness wavered at the edges of her field of vision.

Bana ignored her, passing out of Ashe’s narrowing sightline. Normally Ashe didn’t like having her back to anyone—let alone a stranger—but now it was all she could do to stay conscious. Sounds came to her in waves, ending with a thump as a bowl and spoon thumped down in front of her. A cup of something to drink and a thick slice of bread followed before Ashe could get her fingers around the spoon. It was a relief when Bana sat across from her and began cutting vegetables with a seriously fine knife.

“Eat.” Bana pointed at the bowl with the knife.

Unsure if this were a threat or not, Ashe leaned down, needing the shortest distance possible between spoon and mouth. She didn’t want to risk spilling even a drop of the fragrant broth. She didn’t shovel it in, though she wished she had the strength. She paused after the second mouthful to say, “It’s most pleasing. Thank you.”

Bana’s nod might have been a bit pleased. Hard to know anything through the fog that used to be her brain. In between the sounds of the knife hitting wood, Ashe cleaned her bowl and drank what turned out to be water. Still hungry, but she felt better, felt strength flowing back into her muscles—and a sense of surprise that the food was so excellent. She shook that off—not sure why it should surprise her—and used the last piece of bread to clean out the soup bowl. As if she sensed Ashe could use more, Bana refilled everything.

Before Ashe could thank her again, she said, “You can’t help me if you can’t stand.”

The second round went slower into her mouth, her thoughts cleared and the dark edges of oblivion faded as if they’d never been. Lurch stayed furled at her core, probably to make sure she got what she needed first.

“You are feeling better?” Bana asked as Ashe finished the last of the second round.

She nodded, felt a need to say, “I have had a difficult—” how long had it been since she left the time base? “—time.”

“And you are very far from home.”

Ashe paused, the cup of water just short of her mouth, her brows arching in a question she didn’t know how to frame.

“Cadir told me you are Garradian.”

“Yes.” Nice of her not to use the word “claim” or imply it with her tone. Ashe swallowed. “This isn’t Keltinar.” It might have been a bit of question. “So you are not home either.”

“But I’m not alone.” She paused. “And lost.”

She didn’t need Lurch to remind her to be careful. Kindness could mask deceit. Ashe knew this. She was vulnerable, dangerously so. This she also knew. Not that Bana felt kind. Curious yes, kind, no.

Bana tipped her head to one side. “Your color is better.”

Ashe’s brows arched again, this time in surprise. Her skin color seemed to bother Shan more than a little.

“It’s not the color,” Bana said, as if Ashe has asked, “it’s the fact that you are an alien that troubles the Commander.”

“But your people have had contact with aliens before me.”

“Contact with the Garradians is more legend and myth.” Bana hesitated. “The Grenardians were leaving this galaxy when we had brief contact with them.”

If this were the old time line, then she was in a time not long after the Dusan-Gadi War. But this wasn’t the old time line, so she was left wondering how much had changed and how much remained the same. The tech seemed too good for what she recalled of the old time line. Did that mean they were ahead of themselves or in the past somewhere?