When Fighting Monsters Read online

  The Maauro Chronicles

  When Fighting Monsters

  By

  Edward F. McKeown

  An Imprint of Copper Dog Publishing, LLC

  The Maauro Chronicles: When Fighting Monsters

  Copyright ©2019 Copper Dog Publishing

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.

  Moondream Press

  An Imprint of Copper Dog Publishing LLC

  537 Leader Circle

  Louisville, CO 80027

  www.copperdogpublishing.com

  Ordering Information:

  Special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact the publisher at the address above.

  Printed in the United States of America

  Credits:

  Author: Edward F. McKeown

  Managing Editor: Michael H. Hanson

  Creative Director: Helen H. Harrison

  Editor: Laura Jean Stroupe

  Proofreader: Julie Harrison Saunders

  Proofreader: Catherine Van Sciver

  Cover Art: Pat Ventura

  ISBN: 978-1-943690-28-2 (Paperback)

  978-1-943690-29-9 (Kindle)

  Fiction: Science Fiction

  DEDICATION

  “Beware that, when fighting monsters, you yourself do not become a monster... for when you gaze long into the abyss. The abyss gazes also into you.”

  —Friedrich W. Nietzsche

  CONTENTS

  INTRO

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  INTRO

  Maauro is my favorite of my creations, though like a parent I feel bad making a choice among them. Early on, I made the decision to set her story in the same universe as Robert Fenaday and Shasti Rainhell’s adventures. This gave me a consistency in storytelling that I felt yielded a lot of benefits, not the least of which was the crossover character of Shasti Rainhell, who has reached the apex of her own power since her days on the privateer, Sidhe. This links the two major works I have done, with the short stories I have written on Confederate Space, allowing me to do some of what Larry Niven did in his “Known Space” universe. There is a certain relief in not having to invent new universes and a comfort in visiting places that have been seen before. It also allows me to deepen those cultures and their interrelationships over time. I work the same vision on the canvas of my words, over and over, like Monet and his waterlilies. The universe grows in complexity, color and texture.

  I often feel that I did not create Maauro or her adventures. I tune in on her reality and she tells me the truth of her existence. There are times that I am typing so fast that I feel that I am first seeing the words on the screen. While I have always felt a close and organic relationship with my characters, it is the more so with Maauro. In part that may be because the first person present tense perspective makes her feel so close to me, almost as if she is hovering over my shoulder, watching to make sure I get it right. Wrik with his worries, his troubled past and his constant questioning about his courage was an easy character to reach out to, He’s like the rest of us, conscious of his flaws and his coming short in what he wants out of himself. He is Everyman. I have a great affection for him, if not the fascination I have for Maauro.

  There have been times in writing her that I have gotten it wrong. I initially had her in mind for that type of Japanese anime “cute gal” character so ubiquitous in anime. She rejected that, insisting that she was a serious person, with a real story to tell and that it was at novel length. So we started doing that. Little did I know that there would be eight novels of her life with no end in sight.

  Those of you who have read the evolving relationship between Maauro and Wrik have seen them move steadily, if slowly, closer to a true commitment. That was not quite my idea as I had envisioned him being with Jaelle, but Maauro insisted that his future lay with her. Any attempt to write it otherwise yielded a poor story. When I again committed to her vision of herself and her future, the story began to sing.

  Now while I realize that this all arises from the subconscious creative process, it doesn’t feel that way. It feels more like she is somehow and someway real, and periodically I am privileged to be in contact with her. I think of her as a friend: resolute, caring and very, very dangerous. I sometimes hope that she does not speak to me for a long time.

  —Edward F. McKeown

  CHAPTER ONE

  The proximity alarm shrilled as Stardust sprang into existence in Olympia system, driving post jump queasiness from my mind. My hands snapped onto the controls. We had to have emerged on top of something for the alarm to be screaming the instant after jump. My screen began to populate with images of multiple ships.

  “We are not on a collision course with anything, Wrik,” Maauro said quickly, but with her usual calm. Little perturbed the 50,000 years old android. She sat, hands crossed on her slender stomach, her huge eyes not even on the instruments. The ship spoke directly to her; indeed, the ship’s AI was merely a subset of her own programs.

  “What the hell?” Delt said, from the seat behind her. “Did we jump into a convoy?” His broad, sturdy face, under its shock of blonde hair, showed more concern and his hands danced over the communication controls. Like Maauro, little frightened Delt, former leader of my long dead squadron.

  “No,” Maauro said.

  I, despite her assurance, was checking all vectors. We had emerged at .5C and there wasn’t much time between detection and collision at relativistic speeds. Sloppy ship captains died young.

  “The vessels surrounding us are warships,” Maauro added. “I am detecting Confed and OSDF IFF’s from them.” Her small hands, capable of shearing steel, didn’t stir from her lap.

  “Do I remember correctly,” came Dusko’s dry voice, “that when Captain Fenaday first arrived here decades ago, that this occurred and someone fired a nuke at him?” The Dua-Denlenn, who looked like a woodland elf gone to seed, had entered the bridge quietly.

  “Thanks for the history lesson,” I shot back, satisfied that Maauro was, as usual, correct and we were not going to hit anything. “There weren’t any Confed ships here back then and the OSDF was in rebellion. Hopefully history isn’t about to replay itself.”

  Maauro shook her head. Her long, glossy, black hair shimmered like water as it fell over her shoulders. “I judge not. The disposition of these vessels, out of the likely emergence lanes, suggests a defensive posture, as if this fleet is blockading this jump point.”

  “Incoming message,” Delt said. “Switching to the main
screen.”

  I smiled to myself. Maauro would have detected the message before our mere biological processes could have responded, but she had made an art out of not asserting her innate superiority over the rest of us. She probably figured it was better to keep us busy.

  “CSS Vikrant to commercial starship Stardust. Please respond.”

  I looked at Maauro. She gave a small nod. I touched the screen. “Stardust to CSS Vikrant, acknowledging. Surprised to see so many ships here, Vikrant. May I ask what’s going on?” While I spoke to the starship, a cruiser of the Alaska class, our datadump of starmail, inventory and shipping documents radiated out of us to all receivers in the system. I was relieved to see that the cruiser was not interfering with our transmission.

  “Vikrant to Stardust, your arrival was expected. You will be briefed on landing in the capitol. Director Rainhell sends her greetings and a welcome to you all. Vikrant out.”

  “We’re expected?” Delt said.

  I looked at Maauro.

  “When we sent our messages to Jaelle,” she said, with an embarrassed air, “I was also obliged to report to Candace concerning developments on Retief and our next destination. They must have sent the messages out by high speed courier immediately.”

  I suspected that more was going on, but Maauro had been somewhat fragile since Retief. Some of it I attributed to our new found intimacy. We’d become lovers on my homeworld, something that may never have occurred before between an AI and a biological. I also suspected something more had happened on Retief. Something she had not yet shared with me. Maauro had been involved in assisting Confed forces abort a rebellion on there. I knew that, but I also had a growing certainty that was not the sum of it.

  Maauro had concealed things from me before, if she felt it was in my interest that she do so. Though I didn’t like it, now wasn’t the time to address the issue, especially as I’d initially snuck off to Retief to face my past without her. That had been an epic mistake and, to be fair, she’d made less of it than any other female would have, but she really hadn’t needed to. For now, I would let the issue lie undisturbed, but not forgotten.

  “Candace?” Delt asked, breaking my train of thought.

  “Candace Deveraux, head of Confederation Military Intelligence,” Maauro said. “We report directly to her, when we work for her at all.”

  Delt’s eyes grew round. “You work directly for the head of MI?”

  “We are too important an asset,” Maauro said, “to be delegated to anyone lesser.”

  “And they call her Candace,” Dusko said, leaning back against the bulkhead, with his restorative drink in hand.

  “She does not share her grandfather’s obsession with personal security and uses her own name,” Maauro added, apparently missing the irony.

  “Stardust, this is OSDF Persephone calling.”

  I turned back to the screen. “Stardust acknowledging.”

  “We are preparing to match course and speed and refuel you, courtesy of the Olympian government. Director Rainhell requests that you expedite your transit to the inner system.”

  “Stardust acknowledging. We will maintain course and speed.”

  “Stand by for refueling in twenty three minutes and fourteen seconds. Persephone out.”

  “Wow,” Delt said. “Free gas. You guys really do rate around here.”

  Dusko shot Delt a sour look. “Aren’t you a bit old to believe in free lunches?”

  Delt pointed a thumb at the older Dua. “Is he always this cheerful?”

  “If he gets any happier he may break into song,” I said.

  “Now, don’t pick on Dusko,” Maauro said.

  Things are definitely different, I thought with a mental sigh. It still took quite the effort to get used to her being so proprietary about the Dua.

  A wave of queasiness swept over me and I remembered my meds, quickly taking them from the compartment in my chair arm. The others I noted had already resorted to their cups and packets, save for Maauro of course.

  To my surprise, a light signaled the arrival of a personal message. I thought it might be from Director Rainhell, then saw it had originated on Star Central.

  “There is a message for us,” I said, with rising unease.

  “Yes, I know. It is from Jaelle,” Maauro added, a note of dread in her voice.

  Delt and Dusko looked at us and each other. Both rose without a word and left.

  I sighed and stared at the panel. The message was a hologram.

  “Delay,” Maauro said, “will not change what the message holds.”

  “You don’t already know?”

  “I did not hack the message,” she replied. “I believe we are meant to experience this at the same time.”

  I nodded and tapped the screen. An image of Jaelle Tekala, my friend, ex-lover and partner in Lost Planet, sprang into existence in the air between us. Her hair was ruffed out to its fullest and the business suit was of the finest cut. I had forgotten quite how beautiful Jaelle could be. Her yellow eyes, set in a face perfectly balanced between feline and human, were bright. A pang hit me at seeing the Nekoan; she’d been my first serious relationship.

  “Wrik and Maauro,” she began, “word has finally reached me that you are both alive and well, despite the troubles on Retief. It’s difficult to put my relief and joy into words.

  “I have listened to the two personal messages that you sent me many times. I’m glad that you have found love in each other. Truly, I am happy for you both. Please believe this. There is something between you two that will not be denied. You are, in some way, each other’s essential other part. No one could stand in the way of that, nor would it have worked had I tried. I accept this.

  “To you, Wrik, I am grateful you finally shared with me the full story of who you are and what happened to you. I wish I could have been the one to help you find your way, but as fate would have it, that role fell to Maauro.

  “You have asked me if we are to remain consorts. A silly question, but I now better understand the human culture that makes you offer. We are, and we will remain so. You said that though we are no longer lovers, that you love me still. I return that feeling, my consort.

  “To you Maauro, you who so swiftly asked if we are still networked—I give the same answer. We are, and I still care deeply for you.

  “I do not wish our friendship to end, though it must take a new shape from here. I think that my own culture makes this easier than either of you suspect.

  “We three have Lost Planet to run. I will be its public face and handle its trade. You two, and poor Dusko, I suppose, will be up to Gods know what, Gods knows where. I was warned by Confed Mil-Intel to expect that from Olympia there is another job waiting for you. I asked not to be told of it, at least for now. I will sleep better, I think.

  “Send me messages when you can. Mine will come to you through Confed channels.

  “Maauro, I know you have perfect recall and remember what I said to you on the roof on that day. If you hear it again, it will mean I am in terrible trouble, or Confed MI is no longer to be trusted. Candace may delete this part of the message, but probably won’t dare, fearing you would detect tampering.

  “There are other messages and reports to follow in this communication on the doings of Lost Planet. We have three ships now running specialty cargo. But I wanted this message to say all that is needed between us three.

  “So be safe and return to Star Central when you can. For the meanwhile, know that I send my love. Farewell.”

  The image froze, and the pent up breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding whooshed out.

  “I am intensely relieved,” Maauro said. “I had feared worse.”

  “Jaelle has never failed to exceed anyone’s expectations of her,” I said, sinking back into my seat. Wish I could say the same for me, I thought, then shrugged it off. That was a
n echo of the old Wrik. I was no longer that person. I realized that the back of my shirt was damp with sweat and stood, letting the air conditioning dry me.

  “It helps that she is from a species that does not demonstrate much in the ways of jealousy,” Maauro added. “I would not forsake what I have for you for anything or anyone, but it would grieve me if Jaelle severed ties with us over it.”

  “This calls for a celebration,” I said. “We didn’t bring enough Reitefan wine with us, but if ever anything called for a bottle— this does.”

  Maauro went to get a bottle, just as Delt walked back past the hatchway. He stuck a concerned face in through the door, then caught sight of Jaelle’s image.

  He raised an eyebrow at me. “Everything ok?”

  I nodded. “Maauro just went to get a bottle of Mid-star to celebrate.”

  He looked back at the holo. “So that is Jaelle Tekala.”

  “Yes, and mercifully, still my friend and consort.”

  “Remind me why I was feeling sorry for you when you were off planet? God, she’s gorgeous. It appears you were up to your eyeballs in the beauties of the galaxy.”

  I noticed Maauro coming up behind Delt with the bottle. From the look in her eye and her grip on the bottle, it seemed she might bean him with it.

  “Of course,” he added, with a grin, “none can compare with the Queen of the Stardust, our own dear Maauro.”

  “Here, here,” I said, getting three cups from the restorative cabinet on the table.

  “Very good,” Maauro said archly. “You spotted my reflection from a monitor.”

  “Well that, and the fact that you smell like ginger cookies,” he returned.

  I smiled. The byplay with them wasn’t really jealously, just Maauro playing at human characteristics. It was becoming a thing between them.

  “Will you join us?” Maauro said. “We celebrate good news. Jaelle remains our friend and Wrik’s consort. Lost Planet lives.”

  She turns to me. “Wrik, there are four of us. Please put out a cup for Dusko. I have called him up.”