by Michael Orr
Trish’s wild eyes followed his movements as his long, slim, webbed alien hand brought forth an odd-looking instrument.
“There’s no need to, though,” he went on. “Nothing here is to hurt or harm you. This’z nothing more than the proper packing ’n shipping of perishable goods.”
“G-Goods?” Trish began to realize she’d been drugged.
The Kuxxin aimed his device at her heart center — the chakra at the core of her chest — and waited for it to do something, which it didn’t. He traded that device for an industrial-strength pendulum and held it out in front of her as he turned conversational.
“A specimen like you is an exceptional find. An exceedingly rare commodity.”
“I’m n-not–” her protest was cut off by a sensation in her chest. The pendulum was swirling now, twirling faster and faster in front of her; reaching toward her as if she were magnetized.
“Uuulk...” Words caught in her throat as indescribable things happened inside. A greenish glow began to emerge. “Hhhhh...” she heaved. “Hhhhhhhhhh!!!”
“It’s odd, I know,” the alien sympathized. “At least it’s not painful. Sorry it’s not the whips and canes you were bracing for, but you’ll need this.”
Trish writhed in her bonds as the glow expanded. “Wh-Wh-Whaaaat’s hhhhappennning?”
The Kuxxin continued his work, moving down to her solar plexus, which began to glow yellow.
“Your chakras are what maintain your physical body. They draw orgone from the ӕtheric torsion fields around you and manifest the physical form coded in your DNA template. Unfortunately, they don’t do such a good job in sparse parts of the galaxy. The scarcity of ӕther out there leaves untreated chakras starving to the point of death.” He met her swimmy eyes. “Which is unhelpful. So, this is necessary.”
“Fuh-Fuh-Fuh-F-Ffforrr wh-wha-whaa-whaaaat?”
He moved lower, swinging the pendulum in front of her pelvis and drawing out an orange glow.
“That, luscious specimen, is no concern of yours.”
“Ohh-hoh-mygaaaawd!!!” she squealed and fell limp, losing track of the alien and the room. Her wide eyes stared past the ring into another world...one seemingly made of sky.
“See this one here?” The Kuxxin was still explaining his work as he tended to the chakra at the base of her spine. “The root chakra’s the main problem. It’s where you draw your physical energy — and it much prefers nice, gooey planetary stuff.”
He brought out a new device. “This’ll make it less finicky about the kind of life force it works with.”
He applied the tool and Trish’s mouth opened wide in a silent scream. Her crown erupted into the ӕthers like a volcano and the sky rushed in. Surrounded her.
“It’s not a cure-all,” the Kuxxin admitted, paying no attention to Trish’s obliviousness, “but it helps.”
She slumped in her bonds, lost to the world.
“Now you’ll last long enough to secure a finder’s fee. After that, well...” He turned his attention to another tool on the tray. “Let’s relieve you of this burdensome memory, why don’t we?”
It took longer than Teague expected for Security to take him seriously, and he was feeling beat down by the third interview. At least this time it was with a deputy chief. His lens stats were rising. Slowly.
“You discovered this how, Mister Alaan?” asked the deputy.
“This’z a little hard to explain, but I get flashes. In my mind. Always have. Prometheus says it’s one way our minds are waking up ta larger reality. I’m on record for it.” He shrugged. “But it’s only when I’m in close proximity t’the person in question.”
Deputy Matha put her doubts on standby and brought up the kid’s record. Began searching Teague’s Prometheus file as he went on.
“So, tonight I was at the Zodiac and I got a flash of an alien passin’ himself off as a noble. From where I was standing I could see he was studyin’ Miss Thierry pretty intensely. More than just passing interest. He had an agenda, and I got a glimpse of her in serious trouble. Enough t’bring me here in the middle’a the night.”
Matha leaned back in her chair, studying his striking blondeness. He definitely caught the eye. And as for the situation at hand, Prometheus confirmed what he said about himself.
“These kinda things don’t just pass by,” he insisted. “This’z sump’m real, I promise you.”
Matha exhaled her reservations. There was no doubt certain people with the means would pay handsomely for their own personal Trisha Thierry.
“Think you could ID ’im?” she asked.
“Prob’ly not from scratch, but if ya got a pic, yeah.”
22
* * *
ESS ASHERAH – SAIPH SYSTEM – MAY 1, 2371
Sir Arik studied Asherah’s busy landing bay as the tram sped him toward his personal yacht. Nearby work crews in blue coveralls tended to shuttles while heavy industrial hoverjacks lumbered overhead for story upon upper story, all laden with supplies en route to destinations in the bay’s hazy distance. The immense area was illuminated by glare-less light that merely grazed the soothing neutral walls. And noise dampeners muted the sounds of machinery to give the scene an easy, user-friendly calm.
The tram slowed to a stop and Arik headed for the yacht’s gangway while his luggage was autoloaded onto the conveyer.
“Sir Bergeron?” called a voice from behind.
He turned to find himself on the wrong end of three security guards’ stunners.
“Step off the ramp, please.”
A fourth guard retrieved Arik’s luggage from the belt, struggling with the largest one. He hefted it to the ground and studied the metallic shell with searching hands, discovering a hermetic seal with no obvious seams.
“Gawdam thing’s built ta last,” he called over to the other guards, prompting one to come and assist.
“Careful, gentlemen,” Arik intervened with aristocratic calm. “Haste makes waste. Or in this case, a rather mess.”
A small plasma torch set to ‘fine’ ate its way through the shell, and a minute later they pulled away the top to reveal the smooth bare back of a girl folded like clothing into the form-fitted space.
“JEEZ...”
“...ZUSSSS!” the other finished.
One of the guards leaned into Arik. “Couldn’t even put somethin’ on ’er?”
“Where she’s going...” He waved away the trivia.
“Was going,” the lead guard growled.
The other two unstrapped the tangled layer of restraints binding the girl down like an accordion, and upon lifting her free they found her secured into a breathing mask delivering portable oxygen.
“s’Okay, Miss Thierry.” One of the guards removed the mask and held up her head, not sure if she was conscious. “If you can hear me, you’re safe. It’s okay.”
“Another tragic misread,” drolled Arik. “Terrans really are something.”
The big guard standing over him glared down with open malice. “We’cn go somewhere nice ’n quiet an’ you can tell me aaallll about it.”
The Kuxxin shrank down as the guard shook his head with bone-chewing savor.
One of Trish’s rescuers pried open an eyelid and tested her with a flashlight. “She’s seriously gone.”
Trish floated helplessly in nothingness. Or was she Anita? Or someone named Zo?
Lost among a trio of selves, she fought to move and her body only flailed in the stillness. There was nothing to struggle against. No purchase for her frantic limbs. It was like being trapped on a malfunctioning zero-G stage.
“What the fuckeddy?!!” She kicked and swam, panicking when the ӕthers spilled in like ink. It souped around her, drowning her in its ichors.
Her struggles sent out ripples through the ink like the tremors of an insect trapped in a pool, and as they spread away in all directions, their undulations warped the inkiness like prisms bending light.
She strained with everything she had, heaving and gasping with eff
ort but accomplishing nothing... except more ripples that sped away and swept back in as full-blown currents, carrying her on a riptide.
The currents tugged this way and that, pulling her apart like she was putty...gaining form as they strengthened, now growing into phantom worlds that beckoned to her from every direction.
Each one called to her with the promise of home and safety as if it was her rightful place. Sounds and smells and jumbled, distorted sights vied for her attention, stretching her in whichever direction her awareness turned. Focusing on one world meant giving herself over to it at the expense of the others. But which one was right? Which was hers? For that matter, which ‘her’ was she?
The quicksand of nothingness refused to give her up, but the instinct to survive kept her desperately working to find a purchase. And now there was something new in the unimaginable distance. She trained all her awareness at it. Battled against the inkiness to reach it — to emerge into the nearly nonexistent light on the far side of eternity.
“Gaw-hawd...PLEEEEASSSE...!”
Choked by anguish, she lunged forward.
The action meant nothing. As useless as everything else she’d tried. But one outstretched fingertip managed to nick the light, gaining a glint on the nail.
The guard flicked his flashlight one last time and Trish’s pupil shook ever so slightly.
“Response!” he shouted.
“Medlab. Stat!” ordered the lead guard, turning his full attention to the silent knight in his custody.
Trish woke with a start, feeling herself hurled across time from the far-flung sands of another wounded-eye dream. She was in her own suite...her own bed...the Asherah.
“What?” She got up, feeling the call of nature and wondering when she’d gotten home and into her robe.
A passing glance in the mirror brought a gasp as she faced a pale white-haired girl her own age. The other peered at her as if through a portal between worlds, but the vision vanished with the swiftness of a thought.
She shook herself against the residue of another reality that refused to stay where it belonged, only then noticing her lens flashing on the nightstand.
She popped it in to discover a priority holo from the medbay’s young Vietnamese doctor:
“Hello, Miss Thierry, I’m Doctor Nguyen. You were brought to Medlab after your ordeal and we purged heavy amounts of narcogen from your system. You had no physical injuries, so I thought it best to let you sleep it off in familiar surroundings.”
Trish was even more confused now, but the holo continued:
“It's normal t’feel lethargic and disoriented during the recovery process, but we've counteracted the drug and you'll return to normal quickly. We’re monitoring your vitals, so there’s no reason for concern, but please don’t hesitate t’come see us if you feel the need. Otherwise, just rest. I recommend staying off the stage tonight.
Also, Security would like to ask you about what happened when you’re up to it.”
“Ordeal?” she asked the ethers.
23
* * *
ESS ASHERAH – ALLIANCE SPACE – MAY 2, 2371
Trish was holoing with Saia when the door chimed.
“How’re you feeling, Miss Thierry?” The Security chief and his young deputy stood in her doorway, all gray uniforms with red trim. Commander Okami was stiff in her presence, working to keep his eyes from straying out of bounds. His young sidekick, on the other hand — a striking dark-haired ensign with bright eyes — looked like she might leap for Trish’s autograph at any moment.
Properly cornered, Trish felt knots in her stomach as she welcomed them in.
“You’re up ’n around better than expected,” said the young ensign.
“I woke up kind of a mess, but I’m okay now.” She didn’t know which officer to focus on. “This’z about yesterday?”
“Yes it is.” Okami nodded apologetically. “You’ve been a model employee, Miss Thierry. Your second cruise and this’z your only transgression. Remarkable really, considering the amount of attention you get.”
“You didn’t take payment, so we know it was a matter of the heart,” the ensign offered, then went back into observation mode as her boss continued:
“That’s why this is only a warning and you’re not on a transport home right now. Considering what you’ve been through, I don’t wanna heap insult on injury, but I need you t’understand...private performances are forbidden for this exact reason.”
Trish gnawed on her cheek. “I don’t...actually... know what happened. I woke up here with a holo saying I’d been to Medbay. Whaddid I do?”
“Seriously?” Saia was studying her in that way.
“Nada,” Trish shook her head. “Not even on my screem. No record of ’im. Just blank.”
“Not possible.” Saia dismissed the preposterous idea. “There’s no such thing as ‘blank’.”
Trish shrugged. “Dunno what ta tell ya. I got no record...’nless I’m bein’ fucked with.”
“Being rescued from a suitcase does sound like fuckery.” Saia bowed to the obvious. “A genuine, honest-ta-god alien slaver?”
Trish shrugged unhappily. “Nuthin’ but top shelf fer me. And for all that, now I’m on Security’s shitlist and I can’t remember a gawdblessed thing. Not even what he looked like.”
“Oh, I can help with that. You sent me ’is profile...” Saia brought up Arik’s image.
“Holy GAWD!!!” Trish leaned in, feasting anew on her dream knight.
“Not so outta your mind as ya thought?”
“Ooooohhh... An’ all I had t’do was stay in a cage?”
“Frickin’ Security.” Saia shook her head at the injustice. “Ya dancin’ tonight?”
“Yeah. I feel great,” Trish said with a curious lack of enthusiasm. Saia studied her with renewed doubts and Trish just kinda shrugged.
“s’Weird. Two hours ago I couldn’t keep my eyes open. Now I feel like I could dance forever.”
“Endorphins?” Saia peaked an eyebrow. “Maybe trouble agrees with you.”
That same night in the club, she was on fire, merging with the music in a whole new way. It was as if her body was a physical manifestation of the sound...that she wasn’t dancing to it so much as becoming it. The beat and bass lines transported her, but it was the melody that gave her wings. She was high on it, giving the music a body to express through.
Endorphins? she asked herself in a rare moment of calm. Maybe this’z what space is doin’ to me?
The rest of her night was a trance...a sort of delirium where time moved differently. She felt the seconds slowing, minutes stretching out like rubber bands. Eyes closed, she lost track of the whirling stage and glimpsed a bare shoulder. A completely bare back. Someone blonde perched on the back of a growling machine as it sped down a busy highway.
The scene shifted and now the white-haired girl was facing her, a wan smile on her sweet-sad face. The image transformed into the glow of a planet. Earth...but not. It looked the same, but the energy was different. Darker. More militaristic.
Silence came to her ears. An absence of noise from the club. She opened her eyes.
The crowd below her had stopped cold, caught in the space between heartbeats. Trapped in a moment.
Shivers gripped her. Then the moment passed.
The crowd began to move again, their motion returning to normal as breaths worked in and out of Trish’s heaving lungs.
Am I doing this?
It was work to force herself back to full consciousness. She blinked her way out of the delirium; and as she did, the club returned to normal.
“What’n the hell?” She plopped down on her ready room couch after the set. “Did I do that? Did anyone else notice?”
Her guides said nothing.
“Lotta help you guys are. I could really use some insight here.”
Search within was all that came, and not from her guides. This was deeper. Vaster. Eternal.
“I don’t have the time.” She got
up, pounded some rehydration and triggered her stage.
Back in the club, she felt a new connection to the upturned faces. Caught the looks in those eyes and recognized pieces of herself there; not like she was looking on with them, but like there was no difference between the girl on stage and the people watching. They were all related. All kin.
Mingling out on the floor was achingly personal now. Where she usually wore her stage persona out into the crowd like a robe, tonight she was raw...actually met people and asked their names; thanked them for coming. She wasn’t just an impenetrable wall of personality. And there was still plenty of dance left in her when the night was over.
If only I had someone t’come home to.
There were guys on Asherah’s staff praying themselves to sleep at night for the chance to date her, but none of them were right. And then there was that Teague guy. The one who’d tipped off Security about her kidnapper. She definitely owed him something, and considering the effect he’d had on her, maybe a little sugar was just the thing.
“Yeahhh...since when’s that my style?”
Up ’til now she’d always felt complete. There’d never been any sense of searching for another half; no driving need to be with somebody. The whole concept of romance was little more than a curiosity; just something to dabble at because it was there. But now, this gap in her memory where the guy of her dreams was supposed to be had grown into an emotional sinkhole.
She saw the people around her with new eyes — eyes that wanted something. This was loneliness, felt for the first time like she’d breezed through life with all shields at maximum and suddenly they were down. Life was coming at her full-force.
Sitting in her cabin staring out at open space, she was aware of Asherah’s grandeur just a lift ride away, but no clue what to do with it...as lost as the day in SoCal when she realized it was time to leave home.