The Alien Explorer's Love

by Leslie Chase

  Trying not to let the pain show, Lilly took the paper Margaret offered and looked through the story quickly. Then she frowned and read it again with more care.

  "This is impossible," she muttered to herself, closing her eyes and counting to ten slowly and carefully. Opening them again, she took another look at the paper. The story was still there, and still as infuriatingly unbelievable.

  "What's wrong, Lilly? I thought you'd be interested," Margaret said, concerned. Lilly looked up from the paper and shook her head. Taking another deep breath, she breathed out slowly, taking her time and calming herself before she spoke.

  "This story is preposterous," she said as calmly as she could. Passing the paper back to her friend, she sipped her tea, trying to take some calm from it.

  "Whatever do you mean?" Margaret asked. "I thought you'd be excited."

  Lilly's hand trembled as she put down the cup. With great care, she lifted a napkin from the table and dabbed at the spilled tea before looking at the paper again.

  Strange Visitors from the South Seas, the headline read. That was enough to set Lilly's teeth on edge, and the story only made it worse. She skimmed over it again.

  Prince Jaranak, of the as-yet-unknown nation of Prindakh, has chosen to grace New York with his presence... converts come to see the shining jewel of Christianity... wearing their traditional native paints... wowing society... most impressive furs of unknown animals...

  She gave up at that point, closing her eyes before she got a headache. "It's just. I mean. Look at them!"

  The photograph that accompanied the story showed three men standing beside a sailing ship, in what was clearly the New York harbor. The ship was of a strange design, not one that she was familiar with, but that was hardly the strangest thing in the picture. Two of the men wore ornate masks and clothing that covered them from head to toe. Between them they held a pelt that looked like it came from an animal part way between a tiger and a bear. If a bear had horns, anyway.

  The third man, standing beside the pelt with a spear, smiled at the camera with an intensity that shone through the photo. There was something wrong with the color of his skin. In black and white it wasn't clear, but the caption helpfully explained that for cultural reasons His Highness had painted himself blue.

  Lilly slapped the paper down.

  "It's ridiculous. Every part of it is."

  "Lilly, it may seem a strange superstition to us, but who are we to judge?" Margaret said, sounding ever more worried. "They're foreigners here—"

  "No they aren't," Lilly responded fiercely. "They're frauds and fakes! There's no such place as Prindakh, and even if there was, the natives wouldn't be sailing to New York of all places. Or painting themselves blue, for that matter."

  She ran her fingers through her hair, exasperated. "My parents spent their lives in the South Seas, seeking out new places and new people. There's still a lot of unexplored territory there, I know, and of course they didn't see everything. But they at least heard of every nation in the area, or every one that could build a ship capable of crossing the ocean. And you know I've kept up with new discoveries in the area since they disappeared."

  She tapped the photograph with more force than was strictly necessary. "Look at them! That animal pelt must be a fake, and those outfits look like someone's fanciful idea of an islander's clothing. Just imagine how uncomfortable they must be, and how hot."

  Margaret lifted the paper again, looking at it more carefully. She frowned and bit her lip before speaking again.

  "I admit it does seem a bit strange that they simply sailed into New York harbor to say hello," she said reluctantly. "But surely someone would have noticed if they were making it up."

  Once again, Lilly took a deep breath. Held it. Counted to ten. Her father had sworn by that trick for managing a temper, but today it seemed to be failing Lilly.

  "Someone has, Margaret. This is what that looks like." She stood abruptly. "I'm going to have to do something about this."

  "Lilly, please be calm. You shouldn't let yourself get angry like this!" Margaret's concern cut through Lilly's anger, and she managed a shaky smile at her friend. Margaret didn't look satisfied by that. "You don't have to get yourself involved, you know."

  "If I don't, who will? There's no one who knows more about the South Seas, at least not for hundreds of miles. These, these fraudsters will have taken someone for a fortune before anyone else does anything about it, and I won't have that on my conscience."

  "Let them," Margaret said, coming to Lilly's side and taking her arm. "If this is such an obvious fraud, it serves whoever they take in right. Or if you must get involved, perhaps you should write a letter to the newspaper? The journalists love a scandal, after all."

  "Do you think anyone will listen to me?" Lilly sighed and shook her head. Maybe Margaret was right. Maybe she shouldn't get involved. She had her health to think about, after all. But no. This was an insult to her parents' work, and she wouldn't stand for it.

  Plus, a tiny voice in the back of her head added, you'll have done something with your life. It wouldn't be the same as traveling the world herself, but her knowledge would have a purpose. That had to be better than sitting around her apartment feeling sorry for herself.

  Pulling her arm free of Margaret, she lifted the paper again. "Look, they’re going to make a public appearance tomorrow. They'll give some kind of a lecture about their supposed homeland, and I can go along and see them for myself. If I can meet this, this 'Prince' Jaranak, I'll be able to prove he's a fake easily enough."

  "You can go and work yourself into a fit, you mean," Margaret said, folding her arms. Lilly gave her a hard look and after a moment she relented. "Oh, very well. I know that there's no arguing with you in this mood. But if you think I'll let you go on your own, you're very much mistaken. You need someone to look after you."

  Lilly felt a grin tug at the corners of her mouth, pleased that her best friend would be part of this. All too many people would just back off at this point, rather than risk being at the center of a scene.

  "It'll be a little adventure," she said. "And if I'm wrong, you'll be right there to tell me so."

  "You know I wouldn't," Margaret said, and then she grinned. "I'll be too busy trying to talk our way out of whatever trouble you've gotten us into."

  The lecture hall in the Breming Hotel wasn't as busy as Lilly had feared, but there was still a queue to get inside. She felt her anger grow as they waited to buy a ticket — to pay money to see the fraudsters. Standing beside her Margaret looked anxious, as though worried that Lilly was some kind of explosive that could go off at any moment.

  That's not too far from the truth, Lilly admitted to herself, trying to get her feelings under control. Hastily printed posters advertised the strange visitors from 'Prindakh' all in lurid colors and overdone quotes. Amongst the pictures of blue-faced men in fanciful (and completely inappropriate) clothing were claims that the Prince would be demonstrating the 'Mysterious and Mystical Technology' of his kingdom. It was enough to make her want to hit someone.

  Worse was the fact that she recognized some of the crowd around her. A few of the same people who would attend a perfectly serious exhibition on South Seas cultures were here, and none of them looked angry or amused. No, they seemed to be at least open to taking this seriously. Am I the only one who sees how ridiculous this whole thing is?

  Rationally, she knew that she might be. None of the serious scholars she knew were here, only dilettantes and the curious. Half of them would turn up to a lecture on psychic powers or the fate of lost Atlantis, and she ought not to be too surprised that they were credulous enough to be taken in by this, too.

  "Lilly," a voice exclaimed from behind her in the queue. "It's so good to see you here! Though I ought to have expected your presence, I given the subject of this lecture."

  Lilly felt her jaw tense and shut her eyes just for a second before turning. By the time she'd come around to face the speaker, she'd managed to plaster a
smile on her face, though she was fairly sure it didn't reach her eyes.

  "Michael," she said as sweetly as she could to the young man smiling excitedly at her. "What an unexpected pleasure."

  Margaret's hand tightened on Lilly's arm and she tried to heed the warning. Michael Cooper was one of the more persistent annoyances in her life, and knowing he'd be here might have been enough to keep her away. Though it wasn't a huge surprise — he attended a lot of odd lectures, that was how they'd met. Goodness alone knew why, when he didn't have the wit to learn anything from them. Lilly supposed it ought to be admirable that he tried, but in fact it turned him into a bit of a pest who wanted everything explained twice.

  And that had been annoying before he'd decided he was more interested in her than in the lectures themselves.

  He was as oblivious to her feelings as he was to most other things, unfortunately. Practically vibrating with energy, he nodded politely to Margaret but paid her no more attention than he had to. His eyes, bright blue and empty, were fixed on Lilly as they always were, and they saw only what he wanted to see.

  "There's no need for you to wait in line, though," he said enthusiastically. "Let me get you inside. My father knows the hotel's owner, so I'm your ticket inside."

  That was Michael all over. Excited, eager to help, and too delicate for company. Lilly wanted to tell him no, but one look into those eyes and she knew that he'd be crushed by any refusal. And then there'd be a scene. No one wanted that.

  "I don't want to make a fuss, Michael," she said as gently as she could. "We're perfectly happy with seats at the back, aren't we Margaret?"

  Margaret nodded a little reluctantly. "There's no need for you to go to any trouble, Mr. Cooper."

  "Nonsense, I want to help," Michael exclaimed with a grin. "Sit where you like — I'd prefer to sit at the back myself, you know, away from father and his cronies. Maybe I'll be able to sneak away."

  Taking Lilly by the arm, he guided her out of the line and walked straight into the theater as though it was the most natural thing in the world. The doorman didn't even pause to look for a ticket as the three of them crossed the threshold, and Lilly had to admit that it was convenient. Her annoyance wasn't with Michael, she realized. He could be a good friend, even if his eternally sunny and dim nature was an irritation at times.

  If only he wasn't so fixed on me, she thought, shaking her head. He's rich, handsome, and well connected. There are dozens of women that would be flattered by his attention — but no, he's decided it must be me.

  "What's gotten your father interested in this nonsense?" she asked, looking for something to talk about that might be of interest to both of them. "This isn't exactly his usual area of research."

  "Oh, Lord, I don't know," Michael said. "I suppose it isn't, but father always has his reasons. Apparently there's some kind of special trick they have that's of interest, but you know I can't follow all the science."

  Or anything else, Lilly thought before she could stop herself. It was interesting, though. Ambrose Cooper was a scientist and industrialist, and unlike his son very much not the type to be taken in by a pretty show. If he was turning up to watch this, the fraud must have a pretty special draw to it.

  Either that, or he was behind it in some way and hoping to profit from the gullible who gathered here today. Lilly shook her head. While the Coopers were rumored to be connected with all manner of unsavory characters, a fraud like this simply couldn't make enough money to be worth their while.

  Or could it? Looking around, she could see that there were plenty of wealthy patrons turning up. If this was a scam, there were some very attractive marks in the crowd.

  "You'll want to get back to your father; we can find our own seats," she assured Michael, and was almost sorry to see his face fall. But reluctantly he nodded.

  "Perhaps I'll have a chance to speak after the talk," he said. "I'd love to hear your opinion."

  You mean you'd love to look at me while I speak, Lilly translated. You don't much care what the words are.

  He was gone before she could put together a more polite response, leaving the two girls to take their seats at the back of the hall. There were plenty, most of the arrivals wanting to gather at the front, and so Lilly and Margaret had a row to themselves.

  "I don't know why you're not nicer to Michael," Margaret said once they'd taken their seats. "He's sweet, handsome, and only trying to be friendly."

  "Margaret, you know it's more than that," Lilly said, shaking her head. "And, nice or not, he's rather dim."

  "Men don't have to be smart," Margaret said with a half-smile. "Not when they've got shoulders like that."

  Lilly turned in her chair to look at her friend. Margaret's eyes weren't on her, though, they were still following Michael as he made his way through the crowd.

  "You're not... interested in him?" Lilly grinned, almost laughed, and then started to cough. Instantly, Margaret's attention switched back, her eyes full of concern as she looked at Lilly. Waving her off, Lilly fished in her purse for her medicine, taking a quick swallow from the bottle and putting it back before anyone else saw. It was bad enough that Margaret did.

  "Are you alright?" her friend asked quietly. "You know you shouldn't get yourself worked up."

  "I'm fine, just a little cough," Lilly said, breathing a little more easily. "And I've got plenty of medicine with me if it comes on again. No ducking the question, Margaret."

  For a moment, she thought she was going to get another lecture on taking care of herself. Margaret meant well, but she could be overprotective at times. But the reminder of Michael seemed to do the trick and she blushed faintly.

  "What would it matter?" she asked. "He's only got eyes for you."

  "That's because he's an oblivious fool," Lilly said. "He won't notice you unless you do something to catch his attention. Like, maybe, hit him in the face with a plank."

  Margaret stared at her, outraged, and Lilly couldn't keep herself from giggling. "Well, he's not noticed me trying to politely tell him to go away, has he? You're going to need to go to extremes."

  What Margaret would have said in response to that, Lilly would never know. The lights in the hall flickered, drawing everyone's attention to the stage at the front, and silence spread through the small gathered crowd.

  There they were. The supposed South Seas prince and his men, in their ridiculous costumes, walked out onto the stage. The men behind the prince were covered completely in strange, multi-colored fabric, with lurid masks on their faces. And their leader...

  Lilly swallowed another coughing fit at the sight of him. He was tall, broad-shouldered and ruggedly handsome in a way that the photographs somehow hadn't captured. Long dark hair framed his face like a mane, and his piercing eyes moved over the crowd seeming to drink in the details. He wore a cloak of some animal's pelt, but under it Lilly could see his bare torso and the sculpted muscles of his torso. It was an impressive sight.

  And his skin was, indeed, blue. A deep dark blue that reminded her of the sea somehow, it looked far more natural than she'd expected. Most men wearing paint like that would be at least a little self-conscious, but this man carried it off without the slightest doubt in himself.

  That's what makes a good con man, she told herself, pursing her lips. If he had any doubt about his role, he wouldn't be able to fool others.

  She began to tally her objections, the evidence against him. The cloak was clearly fake, no animal had a hide like that. And the whole outfit was wrong, subtly, though she'd need to look more closely to list exactly how. She'd never heard of a culture where people painted themselves so completely, either — didn't the skin need to breathe? And looking closely, she noticed that each of the supposed islanders carried some kind of wand at their hips, as though it were a holstered pistol. That wasn't right.

  A knife would make sense, and while a gun would be out of character it wouldn't provoke too much comment. But why have a fake weapon? She was puzzling over that question when another
man stepped forward to speak. At least this man didn't have some ridiculous costume on.

  He introduced himself as Captain Hennessey, the only American to visit the island of Prindakh. Lilly frowned as he began to describe that adventure. He might be a genuine captain, but his story seemed more fit for a pulp magazine than any serious setting. It simply couldn't be true, though she expected people like Michael would eat it up.

  3

  Jaranak

  Jaranak looked out over the crowd as Captain Hennessey introduced them. His tale grew more fanciful every time he told it, and by now it was easy enough to tune out. The guests were more interesting, though not much.

  I wish I hadn't let him talk me into this, Jaranak thought. But Hennessey had a point, even if he was loath to admit it. He and his crew would need an accepted identity to move around, and local money as well. This was a way of getting both, even if a lot of it did go to line Hennessey's pocket.

  That was always the way with native guides, though. Jaranak had enough experience to not begrudge the man his profit as long as he delivered the goods.

  And there wasn't any way that the four of them would blend in subtly, not when their blue skin would stand out amongst the humans. Jaranak supposed he should be grateful that they looked as human as they did, but it was still an irritating problem.

  This might not be a complete waste of time, he told himself. It was even possible that someone present at the lecture — really, more of an excuse for the locals to gawp at him — would be the key to finding what he needed and getting home. He could hope so, anyway.

  "Can you hear me?" Karnan's voice crackled with static from his earpiece. Jaranak's second in command was upstairs in their hotel suite, manning the equipment they'd put together for this trick. The small warp generator, the radio, and the sensor system were all in his hands — it was a lot to handle, but if Karnan couldn't manage it none of them could. He was by far the most technical of their small crew.