BEYOND THE PALE: ( The Outlander ) (3 page)

River watched as Isa
departed. He was struck as he always was, by the graceful ease and agility of
his running motion. Silently he blessed his brother now retreating into the
distance, and he remained there, watching all the while, until Isa disappeared
from his sight.

With less than three
hours of daylight left, River roused himself to make provisions for the night
ahead. He had only eaten honey since his last meal with Isa and was now feeling
hungry. Returning to the cave only briefly to collect his carrying pouch and to
check on his patient, River set off to hunt. His destination was some high
ground which was close in proximity and overlooking the pass which these ridges
were located. He knew that he could find rabbit and hare feeding in the gorse.
With luck he would also find chufa or knotroot as well.

Within the hour, River
had trapped and skinned a small rabbit. There was chickweed too for the pot.
Weary and hungry, he headed back to the cave wishing Isa was there too to share
his meal. As he began the descent, a reflection of the sun’s light, glimmering
in the distance caught his attention.  It was a fair way off and difficult to
make out. It looked however, like a vehicle from the citadel. Since no other
movement was discernible, he decided it must belong to the injured man below.
He knew that the Rangers made occasional patrols into these territories, and
also that they were capable of tracking their own vehicles from sensors within
them. This he imagined, would be the means by which his patient would be
returned to his people.

Major Nathan
Carlson awoke in the middle of the night. For a moment, he was convinced that
he was at home in his own bed. Then he remembered the fall. He tried to move,
but his body remained rigid, and all around him was dark and eerie. ‘Where the
hell am I?’ he thought, dismissing the idea that he might actually be dead.
Peering into the gloom he tried to raise himself up. A searing pain stabbed at
his leg and defeated this effort. He could remember landing badly on an incline
and his frantic attempts to stay on his feet...

He was jolted back
to the present by the sharp pain in his leg which was growing stronger by the
minute. Tiny beads of sweat had started to gather on his forehead. He needed
urgent pain relief; his whole body seemed to be groaning in pain. He rolled his
eyes to activate his optical readout but got no response; pain relief could
usually be accessed by voice or optical command, but the link with the computer
and base appeared to be dead. He reached instead for the interface of his
endorphin implant, located behind his ear. Maintaining a steady pressure for
several seconds, he began to feel a wave of soothing numbness, slowly engulfing
him.

Major Carlson
drifted back to sleep.

When he woke
again, a muted light was filtering softly through a narrow entrance about 10
meters away. The smell of food cooking filled his nostrils, making him
nauseous. In the dim light; that was further augmented by the lambent glow of
firelight, he saw that he was in a cave and not alone. A young native man was
stirring the contents of a billycan over the fire - one of the men he had seen
from the ridge no doubt. He wanted to speak, but his throat was dry and his
lips seemed to be glued together. Alert to his stirrings, the man walked
towards him with a steaming beaker and set about propping up the top end of his
makeshift bed, before offering him the drink. The Major tried to take it but his
hand was still weak. Crouching before him, River raised the cup to his lips.

“That ain’t coffee,”
quipped Carlson, after taking a few sips.

“It is hot water,”
River informed him, “sweetened with wild honey.”

“It’s good,” said
the Major, craving a caffeine fix. “Was it you who fixed me up?”  he asked,
glancing down at the tree that appeared to be growing from his leg.

With the slightest
inclination of his head, which scarcely qualified as a nod, River blinked both
eyes together, in a gesture of assent. “Your femur was broken; and here” -River
pointed to the prosthetic-“there was a dislocated joint that had punctured the
flesh. I reset it and stitched the wound. Your right shoulder was dislocated
too.”

“Impressive,” he
said, nodding his head and holding out his hand, “Nathan, and you are..?”

River took his
hand in both of his own, and bowed his head in a gesture of respect. “My name
is River. I saw your fall from the ridge.”

“Right, yes. I saw
you too. Weren’t there two of you...?” said Carlson glancing around in the
gloom, “where’s your friend?”

“It was my
brother,” said River, watching him closely. “He has left to go home.”

“And where is
home?” he enquired automatically. Asking questions was habitual for Carlson; partly
his training, but mostly a tactic to hold others at bay.

“You do not need
to know that,” said River, in an assertive tone that was employed to stave off
further inquiry. “I should like however, to ask you a question.  Are you able
to drive your vehicle without the use of your leg?”

“You’ve been to my
vehicle?” asked the Major, ignoring the question.

“No. I saw it from
the ridge. Can you drive it,” River repeated, “with your leg in a splint?”

Carlson shook his
head doubtfully. “Probably not,” he replied.

“In that case,”
said River, “we must wait for your people to find you. How soon will it be
before others come from the Blue Horse City to look for you?”

“New Denver?; What
makes you think I’m from there?”

“If you are not,”
said River, “you are a long way from home. How soon?” he continued, persevering
with his question.

“I can’t say for
sure”- said the Major; attempting to conceal his deceit with a shrug -“when or
even if, anyone will come looking for me here.”

The show of
nonchalance had not been lost on River. He remained silent for a few moments,
considering his response. Feeling as though he were trying to catch, and hold
on to a slippery salmon, he stated what was to him, an obvious truth. “It is
clear from your answer that you do not easily trust.”

Vaguely
disconcerted by this observation, and the direct and confident manner of a kid scarcely
older than his son, he batted back a riposte. “Well trust is a two way street
my friend. You didn’t tell me where your home is either.”

“My question was
to a purpose,” said River patiently, though feeling a little ruffled, and in
the absence of any further comment, the Major; with some amusement, felt
himself rebuked.

“I think we may
have got off to bad start here. I’m not at my best in the mornings,” he said
with a grin. Carlson was not used to feeling vulnerable and invariably failed
to recognize it when he was. He had learnt; without knowing it, that humor,
being evasive and taking charge, were all effective means of compensating for,
and concealing such feelings, from himself as well as from others.

Taking refuge in
his rank, he continued in this more congenial manner, “I can’t really talk to
you on the subject of search operations and internal policies. It is classified
information you understand…”- Carlson paused for thought before continuing,
reflecting on the protocols that were in place for dealing with Outlanders.
Standard procedure required that natives were to be seized upon sight wherever
practical, and returned to New Denver for reprocessing. -“I can tell you this
however. ‘My people’ would normally have found and retrieved me by now, except
that currently, they don’t know where I am.”

“But they do have
the means to find your vehicle?”

Carlson again
chose to ignore the question, preferring; as his training demanded, to dispense
information on a ‘need to know’ basis. “To find me,” he told River, “our
rangers will search for a signal from the communication device implanted in my
body, except right now ... it is not transmitting.”

Feeling encouraged
by this more direct response, and intrigued by the notion of such a devise,
River enquired if he knew why it was not transmitting.

“That’s hard to
say my friend. It may have been damaged by the fall, or it could be that the
signal is blocked by the cave. It needs ... that is to say; I need to be within
range of one of our satellites when I’m in the Outlands.”

“Maybe,” said
River, looking towards the cave entrance, “your transmitter will work from
outside.”

“There’s only one
way to find out.”

“Okay,” said River
with a nod of agreement, “I will help you outside but first you should eat. Are
you hungry?”

“Yeah, I could
eat. Is that rabbit stew I can smell?”

Having arrived at
what felt like a truce, the two men ate together in a spirit of comfortable
companionship. For a while Carlson continued to probe; mostly about the nature
of River’s activities on the ridge and the size of his settlement. There was
something about the effortless way the kid seemed to field his questions that
impressed him. He couldn’t help liking the quiet assurance of this young man.
Feeling restored by the surprisingly good meal and mollified by the gentle
flicker of campfire that turns all men into brothers, the Major began to relax
and fell silent. When finally they spoke again, it was River who broke the
silence.

“My uncle has
spoken to me of your people’s love of technology,” he said, “but never before
did I hear of a man with a computer contained in his own body.”

“Right here,” said
the Major tapping his temple, “Here’s your computer, and this one even works in
a cave!”

“Indeed it does!”
said River with a smile, “and whilst asleep and in dreamtime too!” he
continued, “I know that with technology, many things are made possible, that
computers make men’s work redundant, and that life becomes easier. But what
happens to the minds of men if the computer is the centre of all things? Does
the mind not idle and become weak?”

“There will always
be weak and idle minded men but it is not computers that make them so.
Technology improves the quality of life and … as you say, makes more things
possible, especially in the fields of communication, education and health for
instance. Without technology”- he gestured towards his feet with a nod- “I
wouldn’t be able to walk let alone run.”

“What happened to
your limbs?” asked River who had been curious about the prosthetics and the
nature of these previous injuries.

“Blown clean off
in an explosion,” said the Major, with a hint of pride. “An improvised
explosive device set by some bad guys. I am lucky to be here at all.”

“A bomb is
technology too is it not?  A greedy technology that amplifies violence and
diminishes a man’s soul. A man should look his enemy in the face when he
strikes.”

“In the ideal
world perhaps, but it’s just not practical in the modern world. Besides,
weaponry is all about deterrent. When it works, there’s no need to use them at
all. Some things never change my friend; the need for protection has been with
us since the dawn of time.”

“Yes! And the more
a man has the greater that need. In my culture, we look to take no more than we
need. City Dwellers, it seems to us, have forgotten about the rhythms of
nature. Everything we take from the natural world will be replaced and offered
up again when it is needed.”

“I can’t deny that
that sounds like an appealing philosophy River, but nature in its raw state is
not always reliable...”

“Much the same as
your technology it would seem!”

The Major smiled
and held up his hands in a gesture of mock defeat. -Sharp as a tool this kid!  has
integrity too-  Carlson considered himself a good judge of character and valued
rectitude wherever he found it.

“Speaking of which,”
he said, “maybe we should give the transmitter a try outside. What do you say
my friend, think you can manage it? I’m no fly weight.”

“There’s only one
way to find out,” said River enjoying his victory and playfully capitalizing on
it by echoing the Major’s own words.

Sliding the
stretcher down on to the cave floor, River dragged the Major outside into the
warm mid morning sun. Wrestling himself into a sitting position Carlson
optimistically, attempted to stand. His right leg buckled instantly under his
own weight. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he tried again to engage his
optical interface. As he suspected, it was more than just a case of no signal;
the computer processor implanted in his leg was either down or disconnected. He
assumed the latter, and that the dislocation had more than likely severed the
connection. He knew that by now, Rangers would almost certainly have tracked
his Rough Rider. The next step would be a grid search using flying drones to
scour the area for his signal or a visual contact. It was only a matter of time
before they were spotted from above.

Carlson glanced up
at River, trying to assess how he would handle incarceration. He considered
briefly whether he might be able to use his influence to process his detention
without the usual interrogation and reprogramming that was standard procedure
for these kinds of security threats. The chances were more than remote; there
were no grey areas for processing Outlanders. Anything outside the citadel’s
walls was classed as insecure; he himself, only had security clearance for
recreational purposes due to his rank. No Outlander ever returned from the metropolis
after arrest.  Likewise, anyone absconding from the city in an attempt to
relocate outside its boundaries was subject to the same rigorous protocols.

Would he at least
be able to argue the case for non-termination? Even that was doubtful. River
would be seen as a high security risk being found with an officer of Carlson’s
rank, to say nothing of the poor reflection to his own credentials. His failure
to interrogate and execute arrest may well even constitute a disciplinary
offense.

For the first time
in his life, Carlson felt unable to square up to the professional
responsibilities demanded of him as a security officer. He owed this kid
something and was the sort of man who always repaid his debts. Safe in the
knowledge that for now his words and actions were beyond the intelligence of
the reconnaissance mission, he looked directly at River and addressed him with
a resolute tone, conscious of the fact that he had little time left in which to
act.

“You have to go!”
he said, “It’s not safe for you to be here when they come for me.” -He paused,
uncomfortably struck by the implications of his own words as they sounded in
his head- “I cannot guarantee your safety River, or your liberty. You must
leave now!”

River nodded
gravely. “I already know this,” he said, feeling gratified by the warning that
established a bond of allegiance between them. “As soon as I know that your
people are coming for you, I will slip quietly away.”