EFTA After After, Part 1 of 2

I hate taking the central transport. Normally I avoid it, but sometimes... sometimes I just have to get out of a place, quick.

They always stare at me, the other passengers. There's always one. Or two. Or lots. Because I'm a freak.

This particular car, mercifully, had only three other passengers. Two humans, one alien. They stared, of course. The male human had been playing some kind of wind instrument, but stopped abruptly.

I finally just pointed to the useless lump on my face, and, as I always do, I lied. "Radiation accident. And please don't stare."

Every time I say this, I try, really try, to not sound as angry as I am inside. I hate being reminded of this thing.

"I'm... sensitive... about this," I added. "I'm having it removed as soon as I save up enough money." This part was true.

"Sorry," the two humans replied.

"Is that another mouth, good sir?" the alien asked. Not to be rude, obviously; just out of curiosity... I tried to convince myself.

"Don't look at it!" I replied.

And what a curious creature this was, too, with her deer-like form, extremely dark fuzzy hide, hooves... I would have assumed this was a wild forest animal, if not for the odd coloration, the ornate gown and headdress she was wearing - I presume it had some sort of cultural significance - and the fact that she had just spoken to me.

Now I was the one staring. Especially at her gleaming white cloven deer hooves, which seemed to be emitting some kind of mist. Clouds? Was she made of dry ice or something?

The human male chuckled briefly as he leaned across the aisle to speak quietly to the alien. "I think he likes you!"

"No, I'm just wondering if you can turn the smoke off for a while. My lungs are sensitive."

Another lie. My lungs are fine. I just enjoy having a clear view of my surroundings. I have a dangerous profession and only one functioning eye.

"It's just water vapor," the human answered. "It never hurt anyone!"

There is one thing I love about the central transport: All the walls are made of glass. When the cars are underground, there's very little to see, but when they're in the air, the view is incredible. Plus, I always know quickly when someone I need to avoid is coming.

"You're a G-var, right?" the boy asked. I hadn't realized it at first (The length of his hair was misleading, somehow), but he was just a boy, a teen; maybe even too young to be legally riding on his own. A vagrant, perhaps? Or at least someone likely to be useful.

"Yeah," I answered. "A ferret variant."

As uncomfortable as I was talking about this, it usually doesn't hurt to make friends. At least until trust gets involved.

The alien spoke up again. "But one half of your face resembles--"

"No," I interrupted. I knew where this was going. I hated where this was going. "Just a ferret."

She was going to point out the otter growing out of the side of my head, the extra snout held shut with tape, the mismatched ears... She was probably also going to ask why I was missing an arm (I just keep it hidden), or why I had three eyes and two eyepatches. I preferred to live in denial. I preferred to pretend my entire right side, numb and useless as it was, didn't exist. There is no otter.

"So be it," she replied.

"And don't stare!"

"I've never seen a genetic variant before," the boy said with a smile. "It's kinda cool."

I liked him already.

"You're fuzzy. Can I pet you?"

Okay, maybe not.

I couldn't blame him, though. There are cities and regions where G-vars are plentiful, but this was not one of them.

Besides, I thought as I absentmindedly reached under my shirt to scratch an itch on my belly, I was fuzzy. I never really thought about it. I was covered with ferret fur... Well, at least half of me was. The only half I cared about.

I finally replied, "I'd rather you didn't... I don't like being touched. At least not in public."

The human female was staring suspiciously, silently, at me all this time. She was dressed in a suit and looked very businesslike, like a banker. That made me uneasy.

"I happen to be fuzzy as well!" the alien deer chimed in.

I smiled. "There you go. You can pet the deer."

"Mistwalker," the deer corrected me cheerfully. "My kind are called mistwalkers." She seemed more proud of that than I felt she should be. "You may call me Lady Sajala!"

"And yes," she continued, turning towards the boy, "you may pet me! I welcome all new friendships!"

"I'm Amren," the boy replied, as he reached over to stroke the mistwalker's nose; slowly and gently, as if befriending an unfamiliar dog. She seemed to enjoy the touch.

The mist coming from her hooves had created a thin layer of fog rolling around the floor of the car. I was amused by it. Something seemed wrong, though, something I couldn't quite put my finger on.

The banker had pulled a couple of checkbooks out of her purse and was thumbing through them, apparently looking over balances or something. As she glanced briefly at her watch, I noticed that she had some sort of tattoo on one of her wrists. It was some sort of elaborate geometrical figure, which seemed vaguely familiar but I couldn't quite place it.

Something else was bugging me now. I shifted my legs around and watched the fog swirl around them.

"So what's your name?" the boy asked me.

"After," I answered absentmindedly.

"I think I'm going to be late," the banker mumbled to herself.

And then it hit me. The doors had been closed for a while, but the transport hadn't started moving yet. Something was wrong. And I could probably guess what it was.

I stood up, leaned on the wall, and tried to look, though the glass, as far up and down the track as I could. In the distance, I could see uniformed officers visiting each car of the transport, opening the door, peering in, questioning the residents, closing the door, moving onto the next car...

"Oh crap, it's EFTA," I muttered. The uniforms, and the weapons, were unmistakable. It was the Empire Factory Tech Alliance. I was smuggling something, something they definitely wanted back. It wasn't going to show up on their scanners, but if they knew who I was, if they recognized me, or if they searched me...

A big red button was labelled, "Emergency exit, alarm will sound". As soon as I saw it, I hit it. The door opened and a bell rang.

"Sorry, but I've gotta--"

To my surprise, both of the humans got up to leave with me. They looked as scared as I felt... at least the boy did. The woman, not so much; perhaps mildly uneasy, but still businesslike... No, she was just good at hiding her feelings.

I didn't have time to stick around and ask questions. I heard a whistle blow as soon as I stepped out the door.

"You! Halt!"

That was my cue to run. It usually was!

I used to suck at running. I've had enough practice to get up to slightly-below-average, but still... This was one of those times when I was glad I always had weapons with me.

Lots of weapons, in fact. At this point it was mostly instinctual: While I ran, I reached under my shirt, into a pouch that had been surgically added to my belly years ago. The pouch contained a dimensional pocket; essentially, I was reaching into a room, exactly one meter square, with metal shelves. Shelves that I kept stocked at all times.

I never did understand how the technology worked; it had something to do with subspace, whatever that was. It was something my employers had installed in order to make me seem more useful than I looked. Why they had chosen a freak like me for this, however, I had no idea. I owed money, stuff happened, jokes about me being two-faced flew about, tempers were lost, and then I don't know what happened... I woke up in a hospital, with a hangover, lots of bruises, and a pouch.

I heard footsteps right beside my own. In a panic, I grabbed the first useful-feeling item I felt, and pulled it out of my belly: a golf club. Specifically, a rather hefty-looking putter. Weighted for extra accuracy.

And then I heard more footsteps, right behind me. I was just seconds from whirling around and jamming the golf club into the very first face I saw, when I heard a familiar voice. "Whoa, where'd you get that club?"

The boy? Why was he following me? And why did the other set of footsteps sound like... deer hooves?

In a moment of confusion, I slowed down. Almost immediately, I felt a nose, a cold, wet deer nose, press against my back.

"Perchance you would favor a ride, sir?" the mistwalker asked.

From the distance, though less distance than I would have liked, came another authoritative shout, "Halt or we'll shoot!"

These guys meant business. Their primary weapon was a long dart, tipped with a poison that causes severe pain and muscle cramping. They were supposedly much safer than the electric darts, and yet managed to be even more painful. I didn't want to get hit by one of those. Again.

I was on the alien's back before I realized it. The banker was behind me. Apparently she had grabbed me from my numb right side and pulled me up without my feeling it. Soon, the boy was in front of me.

I briefly wondered how fast these mistwalkers could run with three passengers on their back. Apparently, somewhat fast. Not cheetah fast, but faster than me on my own.

Probably not faster than the motorcycles I was starting to hear behind us, though. I turned my head to look, and saw them. Three of them, and probably more coming.

I could also see the trails of mist left by Sajala's hooves. Thick, white clouds, that almost looked as if some careless child had purchased large amounts of cotton candy at a carnival, and then dropped it, piece after piece, while toddling down the road.

I was still holding my golf club, so I quickly threw it. It was accurate enough to strike the handlebars of one of the bikes, and the rider swerved briefly in surprise, lost control and fell down.

The banker seemed to be writing something down in her checkbook. She tore out two check-sized slips; I only had time to notice the word "Transfer" printed on one of them, "Withdraw" on the other, before she crumpled them in her hand, and threw one of them into the air. I didn't see where the other one went.

Suddenly, there was a grand piano in the road between us and the pursuers. The two remaining cyclists had to swerve wildly to avoid hitting it; one of them didn't steer in time and collided with it. The other overcorrected and skidded into a pair of garbage cans in front of a building. Meanwhile, two more had joined the chase. They were still some distance behind, and would have no trouble avoiding the piano and both of the fallen soldiers.

I could hear the sound of a volley of darts flying past us now.

"They're shooting, they're shooting!" the boy yelled. We quickly turned right onto a side road.

"Where'd that piano come from?" I asked in surprise. The banker was busy filling out another form, apparently another "Withdraw" form. She scribbled quickly, tore out the form, crumpled it into her hand... and a very large, thick parka materialized. She quickly put it on, and it was large enough to cover both her and the mistwalker's back and sides. It was obviously thick enough to block the darts. That's probably why she summoned it... but from where?

"Wha-- How--?" I stammered.

And then another surprise came when I realized I wasn't hearing the hoofbeats on the road anymore. I looked down and realized that we were floating about a meter off of the ground... and getting higher. The mistwalker seemed to be running on top of the clouds her hooves generated. They were even thicker now, large blobs of white cloud created with every step, and apparently so thick that they were solid enough to run on top of.

"Whoa, we're flying!" Amren exclaimed.

Instinctively, I reached forward to put my arm around him, more to steady myself than him. "Yeah," I answered, amazed. I stared in wonder as we approached a tall fence at the end of the alley; normally we would've had to turn there, but instead we just flew right over it.

"This, my friends, is why we're called mistwalkers!" Sajala explained with pride, panting as she continued to run through the air. "The skies are our domain, and our clouds are our servants and our tools!"

"Turn right," the banker instructed. "I know just where to go."

"Jolly good!" Sajala replied, and then we turned. I heard more darts fly past, and listened to the sound of some of them hitting the parka and bouncing off harmlessly.

"In the office district, there's a tall building where I work," the banker continued. "We'll land on the roof."

"Of course!" Sajala panted as we continued to gain altitude.

"This is cool!" Amren exclaimed, looking around and enjoying the view.

"We'll be safe there. It's the headquarters of the Clavispati Banking House," the banker added. "My family owns it."

That name was familiar to me. "Clavispati," I repeated. Again, my thoughts drifted to the tattoo I had seen on her earlier. That was familiar too...

"It's the one with the giant neon pineapple logo."

The mistwalker suddenly gasped, and seemed to stumble. We abruptly lost a foot or two of altitude and grabbed each other tight for support. She leveled out quickly, but I noticed that we weren't going as fast as before.

"What's wrong, Sajala?" Amren asked.

"Please, no pineapples," she answered with a terrified whimper. "I can't go near-- I just can't!"

With that, she slowed down even more, and we began slowly losing altitude. "I'm sorry, we-- we have to stop now."

"What's wrong with pineapples?" Amren asked.

Meanwhile, I looked around for what looked like a safe landing spot. "Grocery store roof, little to the left," I shouted. "We can rest there while we... figure stuff out."

It was a rough, rather shaky landing, but we all made it. Quickly, we jumped off of Sajala's back and huddled around a large curved air vent; I had suggested that it would provide good cover if EFTA brought out the air patrols, and the others quickly agreed.

Several seconds passed. With time to think, I realized I was confused about a large number of things.

(To be continued...)