Purple Haze (Aliens in New York Book 2)

by Kelly Jensen

  “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. Is she dead? What did I do? Is she dead? Oh fuck, why didn’t you stop me? Why? I don’t want to do this anymore!”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Upero, have you completed the sensor check?”

  “Affirmative, Lang. All external sensors are functioning within operational parameters. I have also completed diagnostics on all internal sensors and environmental systems.”

  Lang’s grin felt a bit feral. “Been a while since we did a full preflight check.”

  “Five years, nine months and sixteen days, to be precise.”

  A cold hand gripped Lang’s heart as he matched the date. He’d wanted to go to Oregon to investigate Rehonen’s disappearance and had not been able to get a commercial flight. In the end, he’d flown across the country by conventional means, convinced in part by Upero’s repeated query of where Lang hoped to park a spaceship in Portland. He had arrived too late.

  Leaning back in the pilot’s chair, Lang reached up to tap the console over his head. “We ran a check on the stasis chamber and cryogenic system?”

  “Three times.”

  “We won’t need it.”

  “But it is better to be prepared.”

  “Why are you not advising against this excursion?” Lang asked the AI.

  Upero didn’t reply right away and Lang used the extended moment of quiet to chew on his lips and wonder how it would feel to have a piercing through the lower one.

  “I believe there is nothing I can say to deter you,” Upero finally said. “And I find myself unwilling to do so. As much as I can express fondness for a person, I like Dillon. I enjoy his company and understand what he means to you. Therefore, I believe not only is it beyond my ability to dissuade you, but also beyond my programming. Your well-being is my primary function.”

  “Thank you. I…” Lang let go of his lip. “I consider you a friend also.”

  “Thank you, Steilang.”

  “If I fail in this mission—”

  “The objectives of our present mission are too broad for a pass-fail designation. We will journey toward the edge of the solar system and conduct a close-range search for clan presence.”

  For the past two days, Lang and Upero had sifted through years of data from amateur and professional star watchers, turning up nothing of significance. There had been a few interesting reports, but all petered out to nothing under closer inspection. There were more places out there to hide than Lang had years to find, though. He could spend the rest of his life searching for Dillon and fail. But he was counting on a single guarantee. A clan starship in the solar system would garner some attention. If not by Earth’s astronomers, then that of the people he was looking for. He would be contacted, if only to be admonished and sent back to Earth.

  His trip to the stars was only the first part of his plan, though. His wave of attention. The second part made him uncomfortable, but he’d been left with little choice. Time was running out. Dillon’s mother was still planning to visit over the weekend.

  “I want to be ready to leave in one hour.” Stomach rumbling, Lang slipped out of the pilot’s chair and paced back toward the central lift. “The apartment, please, Upero.”

  With a soft boom, the lift tube took him home. Pacing across the living room, Lang glanced out at the night. Beyond the reflection of his apartment, he couldn’t see much, but he’d been absorbing the view over Central Park in all seasons for so many years he could accurately picture the skeleton trees and icy meadows. The crisp glint of the surrounding buildings with their random pattern of lit windows. He could feel the hum of the city he loved so much.

  Lang opened the pantry doors and stared at all the appliances lined up on the shelves. Would he miss them? He shouldn’t be gone for more than a day or two, unless something went terribly wrong. Anyone who needed to know his whereabouts thought he and Dillon were traveling to Korea for a funeral. Lang had given up trying to figure out if it was for Dillon’s mother or grandmother. He’d let his apparent grief and concern fuzz the details.

  If something did go terribly wrong, Upero had used the new module provided by Elder Vagnan to lay a false trail. He and Dillon would simply disappear somewhere in a remote part of the country, far enough away from the northern border not to raise a diplomatic inquiry. He hadn’t figured out what sort of note to leave for Hana Lee, though, mostly because he knew a note wouldn’t suffice. She would not be put off, and her heart would be broken when no one answered the apartment door.

  “Steilang, you have a visitor.”

  Lang turned away from the pantry. “Now? In the elevator?” A creep advanced over the back of his scalp. “Who is it?” Only one variety of visitor successfully bypassed his doorman and lobby security. Clan.

  “It is Arayu Jord’Wren.”

  “Stars. What is she doing here?”

  “I suspect she will enlighten you when she arrives.”

  The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open.

  Lang ducked out of the kitchen right as Arayu strode into his apartment. As usual, she was dressed traditionally, the fabric of her robes luminous despite the low light. Lang’s knees twitched as long-ingrained habit suggested he kneel and offer respect. The anger lurking inside him flexed and turned, and with an effort of will, he remained standing.

  He did extend his hands in the appropriate gesture, however, before offering a greeting. “Good evening, Elder. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  Arayu studied him with narrowed eyes before arranging her features in a polite smile. “It is good to see you looking well, Steilang. I understand you were injured recently.”

  That his lack of respect—half lack?—had not incurred a reprimand left Lang somewhat at a loss. He wanted to kneel, but his annoyance regarding all things Wren kept his legs firm, and his spine straight. A stutter tickled his throat before he managed a proper reply. “I am well. And you?”

  “I am well, also. Thank you for asking.”

  “Elder, if I may”—he might not be on his knees, but not all habits were so easy to break—“why are you here?”

  Arayu’s smile took on a predatory gleam. “I understand you’re planning a little trip.”

  “A vacation.”

  “That requires the use of your ship.”

  Lang swallowed. Then, before he could spend time making excuses, he said, “I’m going after Dillon.”

  “I know.”

  “Please don’t stop me.”

  “You cannot ask that, Steilang. Well, you can ask, but you cannot expect me to give in to such a plea. Your place is here, in New York City. You are custodian of your clan’s future.”

  “How goes the war, Elder? Does my clan have a future?”

  Arayu didn’t grimace, but her expression tightened. “I am not at liberty to discuss—”

  “You know my mission is at a standstill. That I will probably not live long enough to realize my objective. What can I possibly do to jeopardize it now? It’s done. I’m a placeholder, nothing more. My leaving Earth now will have no effect whatsoever.”

  “And yet, I cannot let you go.”

  “How did you know I was preparing to leave?”

  “Upero has run quite a thorough sequence of preflight checks. Is there another reason for its prudence?”

  Lang pulled in as deep a breath as he could, giving himself time to think rather than yell. “All right. Can you tell me where Dillon is and when he’ll be coming home?”

  “I cannot.”

  “Is there anything you can do?”

  “I caution you to adjust your tone, Steilang.”

  “What, I can get away with not kneeling, but my tone is bothering you? How much further can I push? What is the punishment for extreme disrespect?”

  “You do not want to know.”

  “Actually, yes, I do.”

  Arayu took a step forward, away from the closed elevator doors. “Steilang, I am not unsympathetic to your situation. However, I, again, caution you to tread lightly.”r />
  “Did you know they were going to take him?”

  The elder made no answer, which was all he needed.

  Taking a step back, away from the possibility he might rush Arayu—or prostrate himself before her in a posture of extreme supplication—Lang again willed straightness into his spine. “You couldn’t have said something?”

  “You had to know it was always a possibility. The monthly scans and reports on Dillon’s health were not solely concerned with his well-being.”

  Gritting his teeth, Lang turned away from the elder and stalked back to the kitchen. He yanked open the refrigerator and spoke to the interior. “I don’t have any pineapple juice. Will sparkling water suffice?”

  “Thank you.”

  Resentment burned as he pulled a bottle from the door and collected glasses from the shelf. But, deep down, he knew the current situation was not one of Arayu’s making, and that, in her mind, this visit was her way of keeping him out of trouble.

  Arayu followed him into the kitchen and Lang handed over a glass.

  “Thank you,” she said again, and then she added a short phrase in Wren, roughly translated as “Warm tidings” before taking a sip.

  Lang repeated the equivalent toast in Skov before drinking from his glass.

  Putting hers down, Arayu regarded him with an almost warm expression. “I would hate to see harm come to you, Steilang. You have always been loyal to your clan and our people as a whole. The Office of Skitt has a high regard for you. To many of us, you are more than a report number.”

  “Maybe it would be better if I wasn’t.” Then his damn sinuses might not be burning again.

  “Perhaps, in time, I could arrange for Dillon to visit you.”

  Lang had lifted his glass for another drink. He paused with his hand in midair. “What?”

  Arayu’s expression shuttered.

  “No, really, I need you to say that again, preferably with the word ‘time’ expanded upon, as in how much time, and what you mean by ‘visit.’”

  “I cannot—”

  Lang slammed his glass down. “You know what? I’m going now. As in, I am this minute, walking across my apartment to my ship, and Upero and I are leaving Earth.”

  “You do not know where Dillon is being held.”

  “Nice turn of phrase there, Elder. Being held?”

  “Accommodated.”

  “I know the Wren have a facility within a four-to-seven-day range. You all keep popping up too conveniently to be stationed farther out, so that narrows the field.” Not by much, but at least it confined him to a single solar system.

  “I cannot—”

  “And I can. Want to know why?” It was too soon for the second part of his plan, but the first had been interrupted. Some shuffling was required. At this point, Lang perceived he had no other choice. “I have a reporter who already thinks I’m preparing for the apocalypse. What if I tell him what’s really going on? What if I’ve already dictated a statement telling Wesley Kohen exactly what I’m doing here on Earth—that’s right, on this planet, as opposed to any other planet—and why?”

  Arayu twitched and put her glass down. “I would advise against such action.”

  “I’m sure you would.”

  “Steilang, you of all people understand the consequences if you were to do this.”

  “Actually, I’m not sure I do. I’ve already been punished according to clan judgment. My entire life has been a banishment of a sort.”

  “You continue to enjoy the advantages of being clan, however. Agents who monitor your reports and who stand at the ready to assist you if need be. Without our support, the events of this past summer could have turned out very differently.”

  “Monitor my reports? I was left in silence for seven years, Elder. Seven. And without your monitoring, Dillon might not be in one of your facilities for the rest of his natural life.”

  “He might also be dead.”

  “Damn it, Arayu, we could argue the point all night. It is what it is. I can’t change the past. But I can try to protect my future.”

  “What future could you look forward to if you were alone?”

  Lang spread his arms wide. “I’m already alone! I’ve been alone for the bulk of my life. That might not mean much to you, but it’s all I’ve ever known. So I’ll reiterate my threat, if that’s what you want to call it.”

  With a delicate forehead wrinkle, Arayu turned her attention to the two glasses on the counter and extended a finger to trace the rim of hers before she glanced back up. “Why is Dillon so important to you?”

  “Do you have to ask that? I’m sure you’ve read the report of Elder Vagnan’s visit. Dillon is whom I would choose to bond with, if allowed. Even if not, there are ceremonies on Earth that mean much the same. He is the person I want to be joined with, emotionally and financially. He’s my family, Elder. He is the reason I can’t kneel before you and why I would dare offer insult. He’s that important to me.”

  “So I begin to understand.”

  “I know our culture doesn’t make a lot of allowances for emotional attachment, but I’m not on Jord. I’m here, on Earth, making a home for the future of my clan. Whether that future is assured or not. But if it is…” Lang swallowed drily. “If my people do follow me here and make their home here, they will have to adjust. If we want to thrive on Earth, and here in America, we will have to integrate, because this planet belongs to humanity, not us.”

  His voice continued to echo as he breathed softly into a lengthening silence following his plea. Then, only his breath and the rush of blood in his ears. Then, nothing but the occasional tick of the refrigerator and the muted sounds of the city at night. Before him, Arayu stood tall and inflexible, her clan features almost alien in the glare of the kitchen lighting. Her long face and nose, small mouth and neat ears. The color of her hair and eyes and skin—all purple to varying degrees, though her skin seemed pale rather than odd.

  Over the course of his life, Lang had had very little contact with clan not genetically engineered for life on Earth. His entire team had resembled Lang—brown hair and brown eyes, skin in varying shades of earth normal. Dillon had always looked more clan than he did. Now, with everything he’d worked for and wanted hanging in the balance, Lang had never felt less clan. As the quiet continued and deepened, he began to wonder if perhaps he ever had been.

  He licked his lips and picked up his drink. Took a mouthful and swallowed. When he returned the glass to the counter, he met her gaze. “I always thought of myself as clan, Elder. That is how I was trained. But I am not. Not completely. I was engineered as human and have nearly always lived as such. Is it any wonder I think and feel as humans do? Am I not, therefore, successful in another aspect of my mission?”

  Arayu opened and closed her mouth once before answering. “I begin to see your point, Steilang.” A gentle sigh left her. “Our people were not always as they are now. Much of our recent history, our evolution, has been affected by what we have had to do to survive.”

  “As I have done here, on Earth.”

  “Yes.” She considered him wordlessly for another few ticks of refrigerator workings. “I cannot sanction an unauthorized visit, but if you will agree to delay your departure, I can file a petition—”

  “No.” Lang held up his hands. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but it won’t work. It could be months before anything is decided, and I don’t have that sort of time.”

  “Are your repair cells not functioning normally?”

  “I’m talking about Dillon. He was born human. Whatever is going on with his DNA, he is human. And our people have him somewhere else. Away from his home. Home is everything to Dillon. He has always wanted to travel and see the world, but has rarely ever left New Jersey because that’s where his mother lives. New York is probably as far away as he’d ever move.” Had moved. And monthly visits home were required. “He loves his family, Elder, and they love him. Already, his mother misses him, and I don’t know what to tell
her. She plans to visit this weekend. On top of that, he thinks he hurt me.”

  “He did. If I may remind you, training is necessary to ensure it does not happen again.”

  “I know Dillon. He can master this on his own. He’s strong.”

  “You are naïve, Steilang.”

  “Take me to him. Please. Help me put together a case to have him transferred to Earth. We can train him here. I will do all I can to ensure he isn’t a danger to himself and others. I will make it a part of my mission.”

  “The one you seek to jeopardize if I do not do as you ask.”

  Lang blew out a short breath.

  Arayu considered him for a moment, her head tilted to one side, and then she nodded. “I will do as you request.” She gestured toward the bedroom and the access panel to Lang’s transdoor. “We can leave now.”

  “In my ship? So we don’t need to leave the solar system.” Because his ship had only one stasis pod, and it was tuned to only one person.

  Arayu offered a grim smile. “We do not.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Scowling, Dillon scrubbed the incomplete glyph from the surface of the table and started again. He used a stylus to trace patterns on the glassy substance that functioned as both tabletop and interactive screen. When he asked for a sketchpad, he’d been given the stylus and told to use the table. It was like having an enormous tablet at his disposal, and Ecero had saved some of his drawings. Dillon wasn’t sure he wanted to keep any of them, though.

  Clicking the stud though his tongue against his teeth, Dillon traced the outline of the glyph again, working from memory. When he thought he had it right, he moved on to the next one but had to pause after the first stroke as guilt and anxiety turned over in his gut. A burn crept up to the back of his throat. Swallowing, Dillon put the pen aside and leaned back in his chair. His gaze strayed to the floor where Beclan Jord’Nay had been sprawled last night, all pale and wrecked by whatever he’d done to her mind.

  The most disturbing part of the whole thing… Fuck. It had all been disturbing, but the worst part had been hurting another person. The even worse part was that Vagnan hadn’t seemed at all upset by Beclan’s collapse. He’d looked almost pleased. Or interested. Which was all kinds of messed up. Dillon most definitely was not going to let the Wren turn him into some sort of brain-melting savant. Not his purpose, man. He was an artist. A teacher. He had a school to get back to, a boyfriend to be with, and a mother who was probably pulling tufts of hair out by now.