Echo and the Lone Drifter

"I don't think they would do that for no reason, but it's possible, yes," he said.

She nodded and looked down at her hands, her hair falling across her face.

"Would they do that for only a little while?" she asked him, still looking down, her voice tight. "Or for my whole life?"

When he didn't answer, she looked up at him. Whatever she saw in his face, the red that appeared started fiery and got deeper as it traveled, a blood-red glow below her throat, the color moving down her arms and back, her legs, and then again.

She stood up. She walked across the bridge, awkward with the foot, and through the door into the hold, Logan watching her go. He leaned forward, putting his fingers to his eyes. They would never release her. She wasn't a citizen, had no rights as a Terran or even as a sentient being until they established she was. And they would be in no hurry to do that.

Her very existence was proof of alien life, of a sentient species other than their own, never mind she was mostly Terran. That wasn't going to matter to them at all. He imagined a few people would object, but he also knew that as soon as the Science Department and Senator Fera knew about her, they wouldn't stop until they had Echo in a lab and her DNA was spinning and her mind was being sifted with tweezers. They'd spend her life and their own thinking up new ways to study her.

Logan got up. He needed to think this through more. He found her behind the white box in the hold. The box was open, displaying the negative space where the egg had been. The egg itself was gone, the broken mess of it swept out the airlock after Puck analyzed it.

She was sitting on the floor against the wall, her knees drawn close to her body, her white hair trailing over her shoulder and onto the floor. The blood color light hadn't stopped, played sluggishly on her arms, down her legs, still radiating, even darker now. He leaned against the doorframe. She looked up at him.

"I thought that once you saw I was a skrim, you would leave me to die," she said, her voice listless. "But you saved me."

"You're important," he replied.

She looked away.

"I know," she said.

He heard the same hopelessness he'd heard in her voice when he'd met her. In her mind, he probably might as well have left her on the Mecca ship. He didn't disagree with her. He wouldn't want to be a prisoner. Worse than that. At least Terrans were humane to their prisoners.

Yeah, he was done thinking about it. No fucking way they were getting her.

#

Besides Echo and the download, the box that had contained the egg was all he had taken from the Mecca ship, but Logan would have to vent it. The Puck was a small craft with a load that was carefully calculated down to the quarter-stilo. He hadn't anticipated having a second passenger. They already were scrambling to compensate for the extra weight, fuel being the issue, as in not enough of it. They would have to adjust.

"Normally we would only be awake for ten days and the rest of the trip we would spend in stasis sleep," he explained to Echo when Puck had done the calculations. "But I didn't anticipate you. We will need to do the last part of the trip back the old-fashioned way, thirty-two days awake with standard engines. But first we'll share the stasis chamber and sleep for nine cycles."

They were under a time constraint, given Puck's calculations for food and fuel and water and everything else they would need to get back to Durfur with an extra person aboard. To keep to the schedule, they needed to get into stasis sleep within two hours.

"We'll have to share the pod," Logan told her, making the preparations, working fast. "I've split the lines and Puck will monitor your heart rate and breathing."

Echo stopped when she saw the pod, amber and then fiery red light moving down her arms. She took a step back.

"You're afraid of it," he observed. "Do you want a sedative?"

"No," she said, breathing a little fast.

When it was time, Logan stripped down to his t-shirt and shorts again. She was in the shirt. He sat, attaching leads. He motioned to her and Echo came near him. He leaned and took her hand, drawing her close, helping her to sit on his lap, putting her legs over the other side of him. She came easily, allowing all of it, watching.

She smelled incredible and felt even better, her round ass finding a sweet landing spot, Echo having to wiggle to settle. He gathered her hair, which took a moment, twisting it and putting it over her shoulder as the apparatus tilted them backward, Echo tensing. He put his arm around her, supporting her as they went down together.

"It's just getting into position," he told her, keeping his voice light.

He looked at her face, her head tucked on his shoulder. Her eyes were closed and she was grimacing, red light pulsing in her hands.

"Echo," he said. She opened her eyes and looked at him, their faces close. "It's just a machine."

Her eyes strayed to the domed roof and he thought about the egg, thought about what it would be like to wake up in that. Her body was tense.

"You're going to have to lean on me," he said.

She relaxed into him, soft and warm. He got the hypodermic and caught up her hand.

"It'll only hurt a little," he said, setting the needle.

She stayed still for it, watching his face, her eyes drifting to the domed roof again. When they were all set up, he checked their position.

"Are you comfortable?"

She was draped on him, no way to ignore the way they were pressed against one another. When the roof began to move, she closed her eyes. He could feel her heart pounding against him.

—Yes—

"We'll be asleep before it closes," he told her, drowsy already.

#

When he stepped into the room, she was at its far end, standing in front of dark blue walls, a cobalt color. They were covered in long hanging black vines that moved independently, many hanging tendrils. Logan walked through the massive room. Plants, he realized.

She had a container over her shoulder and was reaching for what might be a large black seed or a fruit, pockles on its surface. She pulled it and put it in the container, avoiding a persistent tendril that attempted to wrap around the same container like it would retrieve the contents.

"Tah, tah," she said to the plant, chasing it off slowly with her hand, the tendril retreating.

She was naked. Her white hair was twisted and caught up in a single loop behind her, heavy.

"Echo?"

She turned and looked at him.

"Hello, Logan," she said, her eyes brightening when she saw him, pretty indigo light rolling from her chest to her shoulders, down her arms.

"Where are we?"

"The Mecca ship," she said, reaching for another. "I'm dreaming."

"Are you always awake in your dreams?"

She shrugged.

"How would I know?"

He looked at the plant tendril. It had her hair, the white stark against the black. She pulled it gently from the plant's grasp, which moved to her breast, curling in a spiral until it reached her jutting nipple. He felt a wave of desire. She brushed at it and it moved down to her belly. She stepped away, moving on, the tendrils falling away, new ones reaching for her.

"Why am I awake in your dream?" he said, watching, finding it arousing, but everything about her was.

A plant tendril sought her thigh, playing across her round butt before she chased it away with her hand. She sent him a look as if the question were strange.

"You're not. You're awake in your dream."

"We're dreaming the same thing?"

She looked around them and back to him.

"Yes."

He came closer to her and smiled at her. She blinked, seeming surprised, and then she smiled back at him. She had a sweet smile. Indigo washed through her and then silver, he hadn't seen that before, silver pulsing briefly, beginning at her shoulders and running to her hands and then gone.

"Apaner told me you had come," Echo said, shy, looking at him sidelong, such pretty eyes, reaching for another fruit, evading a tendril that wanted to wrap around her wrist.

Another one caressed her arm, a third running up her back. She moved and they relaxed, dropping, new ones reaching. When Logan came close, they ignored him.

"Who's Apaner?" Logan said.

Logan turned, drawing himself up and going still as a being entered the arch, at home, this space made for something its size.

That was a Mecca and it didn't look like a simulation. Logan's skin prickled, a wave of tingling wonder. Incredible. Nothing but the feathers were familiar about it, his mind struggling to make sense of the form, those strange backward elbows, the spurs. The nostrils, so delicate. It was graceful, powerful. He barely came up to its chest.

Even the alien's scent came to him, pleasing to him, familiar as it swept past. Echo, that was how she smelled, at least a little. It didn't acknowledge either of them.

"Yes, Apaner," she said.

"Did he speak to you?"

"He speaks into my mind. He told me before that I probably wouldn't be able to because I'm a skrim. But you can hear me, so he was wrong about that."

A tendril reached for her leg, caressing, wrapping up her thigh. She brushed at it, moving on.

#

"Hello."

Logan looked up. He was at his desk on his estate in Dufur. He was surprised. It was Echo. She was naked. His eyes traveled over her.

"Hello, Echo. What are you doing here?"

"Visiting," she said, coming in. Alam, the estate's caretaker, passed by her without looking at her. "This is your home?"

Logan was dreaming, he realized. They both were.

"Yes, my estate on Dufur. I'll show you around," he said, getting up and coming around his desk, taking her hand.

She came with him, her head turning as they walked.

"Who is that?"

"My father."

"Why is he angry?"

"I've never known. He's dead. Do you want to see the lake?"

"Is it a real lake? On your land?"

"Yes, a small one. It has a skiff."

"What's a skiff?"

"A kind of boat. You'll see."

#

—Covea! Covea!—

Logan stayed very still as the being rushed toward him on all fours across the dusty ground, the arced spurs on the backward elbows that it used to go on all fours bending with its weight and springing back, its second bony spurs bared and sharp, defensive, an aggressive confrontation.

A brilliant crimson red flashing across its feathers. It stopped in front of him, the Mecca poised, its body stiff, its head high. His heart was pounding.

Its neck extended toward him, a fluttering sound from its mouth, monotone, almost too low to hear. Logan still didn't move, transfixed. Gorgeous, huge and somehow still delicate, white feathers. A distinct smell, dry musk. It bent and smelled his head, a huge exhale from those delicate nostrils that blew his hair everywhere. The long head came down to his level, its eyes staring straight into his. Logan felt it in his gut, the impact of her gaze, her breath warm.

He knew those eyes.

"Hello, Echo," Logan said.

They were dreaming together again. Indigo light swept across her feathers and then the crimson red rippled across them again.

—Covea, Terran—

"Hello, Covea,"

—You're male—

"Yes."

She nudged him with her nose on his chest, Logan regaining his balance.

—You drop silver for me?—

She nudged him again, Logan braced this time.

"I don't know."

—You can't pin my wings—

She was bragging, arrogant. Challenging him, entirely sexual, his own body responding regardless of species. Her chest was in front of his face, crowding him.

He didn't retreat. He looked down. Her manner was aggressive, but her tail had swept closer to his leg, prehensile, wrapping around his calf and then his thigh. Logan looked up, watching her. She was remarkable.

He brought his hand up. She blinked and stilled, her head coming level with his, close to him again, looking at him. He reached and touched the crest around her eye ridge, bumpy and soft, the feathers moving and adjusting. She blinked again slowly, the crimson disappearing, indigo running over her feathers, then a quick path of burnished silver, flashing.

His hand moved to her long cheek, caressing, gentle. Her eyes closed, strangely long lashes, and sparks of gold light traveled over her feathers where he touched. Beautiful.

His hand dropped and her eyes opened. Her head lowered, scenting him. He realized he was naked. She smelled his throat, her breath warm, his shoulder, moving down. She was scenting his belly now.

She moved lower. She sniffed at his sex delicately, which had become erect, the soft edge of her nostril bumping against his cock, her warm breath making his sex pulse and jump. Because it was a dream, probably, it felt good. He was suddenly extremely aroused, painfully so.

Her tongue emerged, long and bifurcated, and wrapped around his sex, dragging up and around the head, squeezing and slick, a sucking pressure before releasing. Fucking hell. Logan's hips jerked, hot pleasure going all through him. She did it again, Logan's breathing fast. That felt incredible, fuck, that felt incredible. He didn't want her to stop, his pleasure shooting up as she continued doing it, his cock swelling, his balls tightening. Then he was coming, crying out, his orgasm deep and good, so good—.

#

They were on the skiff at his estate. Logan heard the lapping of the water against the side. He was looking at Echo. He had always been here. They had.

Her hand was in the water, her cheek on her arm. She was naked, the strong, warm sunlight playing across her skin. He could see the finest downy white hairs on her rounded hip. The ends of her hair were over the side, trailing. Her eyes were gleaming slightly, an almost mirror-like color in this light, pink jutting nipples, white feathers between her silky thighs. Her feet were folded under her.

"You're beautiful," he told her.

Her head came up. Her cheeks were pink with the sun, just blood and flesh. Then his eyes went to her body as a wave of indigo blue light rolled under her skin all the way down her body, followed by a burnishing of silver.

—I'm yours. I'm for you—

#

When they woke up from stasis, Logan immediately felt the mess in his shorts, dried, grimacing a little. He wasn't surprised, given his dreams. He didn't think she noticed as they unwrapped from each other to exit the stasis pod. She was just eager to get out, not liking the small space any better waking up in it.

They would have to go to sleep again almost right away, only a small time to eat and shower. It was the schedule, and the sooner they were on it, the sooner they would adjust.

There was no other place for Echo to sleep on the Puck besides with him. The bed in the stasis chamber wouldn't even recline until the leads were attached, as well as the hypodermic. The medical bed was just a metal slab, the immersion chair too small. His bed was the only area large enough with a soft surface.

They took turns showering and then he got meals for them. They didn't talk about the dreams, but he didn't doubt she remembered them as well as he did. He set one in front of her at the table, opening it, sitting and opening his. She leaned forward, looking at it. She breathed in and her nose wrinkled, her head pulling back. His mouth quirked.

"It's not that bad," he said.

He took up his fork, watching her do the same. She put a bite in her mouth and looked at him, chewing. Logan grinned. She really didn't like it.

"Rest cycle begins in eight minutes," Puck said.

When she was done, he got the packages, putting them into the receptacle, and led her into his bedroom. The bed was spacious for one, adequate for two. She got in, lying down on her back. Logan got into bed with her, also on his back, his leg crooked, feeling the strangeness of it all. He was aware of her. He was used to being alone, and definitely used to being alone here.

He had thought about putting them on an opposite sleep and wake cycle so they didn't have to share, but he didn't want her wandering the ship while he was sleeping. And he had so many questions. He was thinking about the Mecca. He didn't understand how the program had known to create her.

He turned to look at her. Her profile was clean, proportional, full lips and the roundness of her cheek, long lashes. She was definitely strange. Her eyes were closed.

"When did the Mecca make you?" Logan said.

Her eyes opened. She answered without looking at him.

"My physical growth was accelerated to reach maturity. My body and mind are twenty-four Terran years. I have existed a total of twenty-three days."

"Less than a month?" he said incredulously.

He had assumed the Mecca ship had visited the Terran system sometime in the past. Instead, she was saying the Mecca had created her while Logan had still been in transit to the Mecca ship.

That meant the program that had made her would have accessed the Terran main net through Puck, just pushed through and captured it.

"I have memories of twenty-four years of experiences," Echo said, still not looking at him. "I had parents and friends on Dufur. On Achmeane, the river shone where Mecca hatch their generations and I was born there. Tothe dropped silver for me but I flew too fast for him. I never told Apaner that I went to the roof of the botlith and thought about flying in the shalle even though I knew that I would die if I tried. I remember these things. I know they didn't happen, but they're all I have. All that I am."

"Time for rest interval has started," Puck said.

"Where did the program get the Terran material?" Logan said, suddenly uneasy. "Are we related?"

"We are not related," she answered. "Other options were chosen, your genetics altered to make me."

He looked away from her, staring at the ceiling, trying to understand.

"Achmeane is the Mecca planet?"

"Yes."

"Lights will be dimmed in twenty seconds. Rest interval has started," Puck said, nagging.

Logan cast an eye at the ceiling. Puck hated changes to the schedule.

"Puck, begin a ten minute interval and then dim the lights," he said.

"Aye," Puck said.

Maybe he could start more simply.

"How did the Mecca train you to behave Terran?" he asked, looking at her again.

She didn't answer at first, like she was trying to figure out how to do so. He waited.

"I didn't know I was in that egg until you opened it," she said. "I had never seen it before. My first memory was of being a young girl on Dufur. I was born there, in the city of Sparten. I had a mother and a father and a sister. My name was Stani and I went to my lessons and I watched the Scry dance across the fields at dusk. I ate tuva balls with my friend Alota. I was a clumsy girl with black hair. My teeth stuck out in front and had to be corrected. "

"You really thought you were on Dufur? That you were a normal Terran child?"

"Yes. I thought it was all real. I suppose there were things that didn't make sense, but I didn't notice them. It was like a dream where you believe what you experience except that for me that dream went on for what felt like years, full of everyday details."

She looked down and raised her foot in the cast a little, letting it settle.

"I broke my pinkie finger once playing Maka," she said, looking at him. "Did you play Maka?"

He stared at her.

"Yes, when I was a boy."

"When I believed that I was nine," she continued, facing forward again, "I became a Mecca, and that felt right too. I knew that I had been different before, that I had other memories, but they didn't trouble me. I didn't think about them. I was Covea, a young female in the t'ark, on the high hill, sun toward and my shoulders low so no mavrith came on my torn side. I coughed and they rose to greet me every time, my wings covering the zenith. I had my wass and my cota and they didn't come down on top of me on any avenguard, not ever."