Page 36 of Invasive Species (Outcasts of Oloria #2)
TWENTY-SIX
GARA
One Olorian Day Ago
The shout rings in my ears. This is it. The Parthiastock outside will react to the alarms my chip set off, and they'll capture me and kill me.
But he doesn’t run into the corridor to find me.
Red light from behind me throws my stark shadow over the line of Selthiastocks waiting to get scanned as they scatter in every direction. I barely have time to register their shocked faces before Mae charges toward me, her feathers fanned out in a shimmering halo of gold and purple.
“Stop it!” the Parthiastock bellows.
I snatch her up and her sharp beak snaps dangerously close to my face, but I clamp it shut with one hand, pressing her to my chest. My scales shift to deep purple in an instant to hide her, my heart thudding in my ears.
The purple clone shoves through green Selthiastocks, stopping when he sees me. My hearts beat as fast as Mae’s, both of our lives in jeopardy. It’s the exact conditions that make my focus sharpen, sorting through the dregs of my options and making a snap decision.
The Parthiastock beckons. “Well done, healer. Give that… thing… to me.”
I pull Mae closer to my chest. “Respectfully, law keeper, this is an experimental subject which escaped just now.”
He frowns, then glances up the corridor behind me. “Why are the alerts sounding?”
“Because she escaped.” To demonstrate, I lift the de-evolved chicken toward the scanning port I missed earlier. The computer obliges by rescanning my chip and screaming, “Alert! Alert! Anomaly detected!”
“See?” I tell the clone.
Mae gives an ear-splitting shriek and thrusts her wings out wide, forcing my grip open. With a burst of acceleration, she gets free, cackling as she runs at speed toward the cowering Selthiastocks.
“Catch it,” the law keeper orders, and I’m only too happy to comply.
I snatch Mae up and plunge into a throng of Selthiastocks descending a staircase, these ones unaware of the calamity in their midst. My pulse races, the weight of Mae’s body awkward against me as I try not to draw attention, my breath shallow.
The Selthiastocks around us look exhausted, their eyes glazed after long shifts, paying no mind to one more of their own. But I can’t shake the feeling that a hand is going to seize the back of my neck and halt me, seize Mae and arrest me. Each step down sends a jolt of tension through my limbs.
Shuffling into the next available elevator I expect any moment to hear the shout, the cry that we’ve been spotted. Shoulder to shoulder with other Selthiastocks, I close my eyes and try not to squeeze Mae too hard. Hopefully everyone’s too exhausted to notice a huge murder chicken in their midst .
My brain lists all the scenarios where this can go wrong, and I imagine with vivid detail the Parthiastocks closing in, the Apex of the mind sync combing the minds of all the clones to find me.
I hold tight onto the image of Arra-bellah, her eyes bright as she laughs, her hands waving as she explains her ideas to me. I don’t want to think of her unconscious and alone. The bond in my chest lies empty, with no signal of how she’s feeling.
I have to focus, even as every second here takes me further away.
When we finally reach the ground floor of the Milagrove, relief nearly makes my scales shimmer.
Almost there. Keep going. I force myself to stay composed, blending into the crowd that flows toward the Undercity.
Just another Selthiastock, tired and returning to his dorm.
Nothing suspicious here. Just breathe and stay a shadowy green.
The constant drizzle from the waterfalls overhead is a small mercy, cooling the sweat beading on my brow as we descend into the damp, crowded streets of the Undercity.
The air thickens with mist, every surface slick and shining with lurid reflections of neon ad-screens and rivulets of water snake along cracks in the plascrete beneath our feet.
A floating screen buzzes nearby, advertising the nutritional benefits of Mila-paste—a poor substitute for the bright, golden eggs we’d had back on Earth. I almost choke on the memory.
The crowd starts to thin as more Selthiastocks peel off toward their drab, beige dorm blocks.
I keep my head down, my mind racing. I have no dorm to go to, no access to credits, no safe place to hide.
My chip will flag me the moment I try to access anything, and the Parthiastocks will be on me in seconds.
I have to keep moving.
Finally, Mae and I slip down a narrow alley near the central square. The scent of boiling paste wafts through the air from the Magirustocks preparing the evening meals. It's crowded here, but not enough to stay hidden for long.
I release Mae’s beak, and she immediately pecks my chest, hard.
“ Ouch, you horrible creature,” I hiss, rubbing at the shallow wound. I hadn’t scaled up in time to protect myself, and it stings. “Do that again, and I’ll let them have you.”
Mae’s eyes gleam with what can only be described as bird-like defiance, but she doesn’t peck me again. Not yet, anyway.
I crouch down, keeping my voice low. “If you want to survive this, you’ll stay close. You're an alien here, bird.”
Then I let her go. Her feathers ruffle in what seems like indignation, but she stays still, her sharp eyes watching my every move. I’m not sure if she understands, but I hope the gravity of the situation isn’t lost on her.
I stand on shaking legs, pressing my back against the cool, wet wall of the alley. The Parthiastocks are still out there, combing the area, and they could be closing in at any moment. I’ve gotten us this far, but if we’re going to make it out alive, I need a plan.
The main street behind me throngs with passing Selthiastocks and vendors at the street carts. I’ve got to keep hiding in plain sight, waiting for one opportunity to get back up to Arra-bellah. I can’t afford to let any chance slip by, but I also can’t be too bold and get caught.
Mae squawks softly beside me, her gold and purple feathers fitting with the bright, artificial glow of advertisements reflecting off the wet ground.
“Alright, Mae,” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the din of the Undercity. “If you want to live, you’ll need to stay close. Understand?”
Of course she doesn’t reply, but there’s something comforting about giving her instructions nonetheless. Makes me feel as if I’m part of some kind of crew .
With one last deep breath, I step out of the alley, hoping that no one sees the desperation in my eyes.
Present Day
I crane my neck back, gazing at the underside of the Oasis, wondering yet again which room holds Arra-bellah.
Three Olorian days have passed, but the wondering doesn’t get any easier.
Wrapping my arms around my legs, I take deep breaths of the warm, wet air.
The scents of roasting meat and fluffy ricax make my stomach snarl with hunger.
The hiss of a plasteek bag being dragged by a knee-high mutant chicken sounds behind me. Mae tugs the handles in her wickedly sharp beak into our latest alleyway between two dorms.
There are no windows in the living areas here, too inefficient for sleeping clones, so I'm well-hidden and have a good view of a plaza ringed with bright ad screens.
In the center of the plaza sit three food stalls arranged in a triangle, ready to serve meals to the queues of Selthiastock either heading up to or down from the Oasis.
It's the best vantage point I've found so far.
It allows me to see Parthiastocks coming to search this district, whilst also being ready for an opportunity to get back up to see Arra-bellah.
The threat of auto-scanners like the one I encountered would likely increase the closer I tried to get to her.
I have to remove my chip somehow.
I eye Mae warily. “What have you got now, wretched bird?” She’s forever bringing back whatever she could scavenge from the Lautustock clones who clean the Undercity feverishly every day.
She tips her head back and screeches, black tongue writhing, and I wince as I scoop up the stolen bundle. “Shh, fine, keep the noise down or they’ll call the Parthiastocks.”
This is a commensal relationship, where Mae steals for me and I use my opposable thumbs to get into our ill-gotten gains. Unwrapping the warm package reveals cardamom spiced plantain and long, twisty noodles made from dried Mila-paste, making my stomach roar.
It’s contaminated with a shard of ceramic. I carefully put it in my pile of useful items along with a short length of twine and a fist-sized piece of slab. Perhaps one of these will be useful to us soon. I know Arra-bellah would see their potential.
Mae croaks warningly, and I pull out the meal. Ripping the carton in half, I split it and set her share in front of the bird.
She scratches the plascrete near it for a few heartbeats, as if reacting to her instincts to dig up prey from the ground, before she pounces on top, big curved toe on her back legs slicing the noodles into thin ribbons. She unhinges her jaw, and I have to look away or risk losing my own appetite.
The food is warming if bland, and I eat mechanically.
I feel very little about eking out an existence in this drizzly city, only deep regret as sharp as a scalpel when I think of Arra-bellah.
I’ve abandoned my mate to struggle alone without me, putting my faith in the Selthiastock healers around her.
They’ll work tirelessly to find a cure, I know they will, but only because it's in their genes. They have to succeed in saving a female or die. I’d be working twice as hard to save her, but I can’t get up there without a chip that isn’t marked for euthanization.