They were no longer on the ship, but outside—in a strange place. The sensual sensitivity of hyperspace had been replaced by gravity, scorching sunshine, and tantalizing aromas.
They stood on another world.
Son of a slimeworm. In mid-stride, she’d left the ship and stepped under an azure sky with a burnt orange sun. The pitter-patter of humanoids passing by them in a market seemed so ordinary. The people around them paid little attention to the strangers among them. Wearing flowing clothing in soft pastels and sandals on their feet, people chatted and went about their business like in any other city on thousands of cosmopolitan worlds.
Alara counted several species of humanoids, a predominant one composed of men and women with blue-tinged skin, others with larger, shell-shaped ears, and still another race of white-haired, pink-eyed people who possessed tails that they decorated with ribbons and sparkly gewgaws.
Around them vendors sold trinkets, fine art, and a variety of household goods, lighting, appliances, foodstuffs, and carpets. From the deliciously scented aromas, a wide assortment of sweetmeats, pastries, and snacks were available. A man tapped a beat on a box with his foot while playing a flutelike instrument. Admirers stopped and placed shiny golden metal pellets in a sack by his feet. Surrounding the busy square, elegant, pale turquoise buildings with steep gable roofs and tiered balconies supported by majestic columns revealed more eateries, where people dined at leisure with a view of the busy market below.
Where was this place? How had they arrived here? Despite the smooth polished tile under her feet, Alara couldn’t seem to find her balance and stumbled again.
With a lightning reflex, Xander reached out and steadied her. “What in the seven continents of Icorn just happened?”
Vax’s hand dropped to his stunner that was no longer attached to his suit. “Either we’re hallucinating, or we are no longer on the ship.”
Until they figured out where they were and what had occurred, blending in to avoid calling attention to themselves would be the safest course. Although she could do nothing about her golden skin, Alara modified her suit to match the current styles and placed a hood over her dark hair; she noted the captain and his crew reclothing themselves, as well. Clarie didn’t bother, continuing to wear his bright blue robe that stood out like an embryo among a colony of amoeba.
“Does anyone recognize this world?” Xander asked. His robe left one shoulder and one powerful bronzed arm bare, and the image of pillowing her head on his shoulder popped into her head. The timing was incredibly unfortunate. She should be working, using her abilities to find out what was going on. She didn’t even have the excuse of Boktai.
To distract herself from inappropriate thoughts of Xander, she used her inner eye on the closest humanoid stranger. Alara noted only subtle differences among the different races. The blue-skinned woman’s DNA was very similar to her own, right down to carrying the virus. She moved on to examine other beings that seemed related in DNA type. All were infected.
Alara kept her voice low. “Captain, wherever we are, they already have the virus.”
“With their own lives at stake, they should be more likely to cooperate,” Shannon suggested.
“Let’s not make assumptions,” Xander cautioned, keeping his stance casual, his demeanor wary. As the others looked to him, he maintained his normal role of leadership with an ease that was so much a part of him that she speculated whether he’d been born to command or if he had learned to maintain his authoritative presence through years of serving his people.
Cyn frowned. “We need to figure out where we are. I don’t even want to think about how we zapped out of hyperspace. Or how we’ll zing back. It’s giving me a headache.”
Clarie’s head swiveled around until he met Xander’s gaze. “You wanted to go to Lapau. Yes?”
Xander’s eyes widened. “This is Lapau?”
“You say go. We go.”
“Where’s my ship and the rest of my crew?” Xander eyed Clarie with suspicion.
“No worry. Ship where you left it.”
Delo suddenly leaped from Clarie’s shoulder. Using all four limbs, the animal scampered toward the vendors, his pace so fast, his limbs blurred with the churning motion. Clarie shuffled after his pet, moving with a swift confidence that made her wonder if he’d been here before.
“Don’t you wish to stay with us?” Xander spoke loudly enough for Clarie to hear, but the alien ignored him.
“You want me to bring him back?” Vax’s tone implied he’d use force if necessary.
“Let him go,” Xander ordered, and within moments Clarie had disappeared from view. “If this is Lapau, we need to find a library, a computer system, somewhere to get information. Let’s split up. Cyn, Shannon, Vax, see what you can learn without alerting the locals to our presence. Alara and I will try and find out who’s in charge. Remember, we’re looking for anything—stories, artifacts, machinery—about the Perceptive Ones. Keep in mind that the Lapautee may call them by other names.”
“Without our ship in orbit, we cannot stay in contact with each other,” Shannon reminded them. The Terran’s lips compressed into a thin line, as if she hadn’t taken the transfer as well as the others—possibly due to the more advanced nature of her DNA illness. To her credit, she said nothing about her sickness.
Vax checked his timepiece. “I suggest we meet back here in three hours.”
“Good idea.” Xander nodded, but his gaze veered to the crowd and stopped on a woman who passed a golden pellet to a vendor and received a sweetmeat in return. “Keep a look out for Clarie and your thoughts tuned for a way to earn credit. We’ll need food, water, and shelter by nightfall.”
“That’s assuming this place has nightfall.” Shannon shaded her eyes with her hand and peered at the peculiar sky. “The clouds haven’t moved since we’ve arrived. There’s also a sharp demarcation line between bright and unfaded paint on every building, indicating shade and sunlight positions are constant.”
Planets where one side remained in daylight and the other in perpetual darkness were rare. Alara wished she’d asked Ranth more about Lapau when she’d had the opportunity. After she and Xander split from the others, she noted that many couples walked hand in hand, and she took Xander’s, telling herself her gesture was to blend in, but liking the idea of touching him. “Are we certain this planet is Lapau?”
“I’m certain of nothing.” Xander guided her between a row of vendors. “Ranth collected parts and pieces of data the last time the Verazen came this way. Apparently, after examining the data from libraries and museums from many worlds, he theorized that the Perceptive Ones might still be alive in this system. But we’ve always known most of what he’d gathered might be inaccurate.”
She pulled the hood closer around her face, wishing she and Xander didn’t stick out so much. Xander wore a hat because hair here came in hues that ranged from light brown to pink, and if their dark locks showed, it might startle these people more than Xander’s size, which seemed to go unnoticed. “I assume you don’t want to stop someone and ask for information?”
“We don’t know the laws or customs of this world. They may arrest strangers who don’t have a permit or who don’t have political agreements with them. We can’t afford to end up in the local equivalent of a jail.”
She stopped in front of a sign with moving images that projected an art show and a map that displayed their current location and how to locate the building’s exhibit. While they couldn’t read the language, the images were simple enough. “Perhaps we can find access to a computer there.”
Her assumption could be incorrect. But art galleries were often in upscale areas near museums and libraries that might contain the information they sought.
“All right.” He glanced at the sun that still hadn’t moved since their arrival. “Shannon may be right. They may always have d
aylight here.”
“Yes, but why aren’t the clouds changing shape or scudding across the sky?”
As they strode past vendors, Alara noted certain sections carried similar products. Once they reached the market’s edge, she slowed her pace to gawk at semiwoody tropical vines, evergreen shrubs, plants with weakly winged stems, and unlobed crimson flowers for sale under a canopy that provided shade from the sweltering sun.
She would have liked to examine a sampling of the local flora in her lab, but had to make do with her special sight. “Plants have the virus, too.”
“Keep your eyes peeled for anyone official or in charge, like civilian peacekeepers and military. Most worlds designate them by a difference in dress.”
She didn’t know if Xander didn’t want to hear about her plant observations, or if he simply had a lot on his mind. Clearly, he was focusing on the mission. But after years of no one listening to her ideas, she’d learned to keep her opinions to herself. Knowing that she tended to be overly sensitive, she didn’t say more about the plants, but when one of the vendors stood before a booth of budding perennials that had yet to flower, she led Xander toward it.
“Buy my glory glades very cheap. Lovely flowers will bloom in a few days.” A sinewy woman with sultry eyes spoke in a singsong tone, and Alara could tell from her despondent gaze that she expected them to move on like the others who were drawn to the brightly flowering plants at other booths.
“Why not make them bloom now?” Alara asked, jutting her chin at a jaunty angle.
“Why not make the sun set?” the vendor countered, grim-faced and antagonistic. Clearly she either didn’t believe the buds could be coaxed to bloom now or was unaware of the technique to help them do so.
Xander tugged at Alara’s hand, trying to pull her away, but she planted her feet firmly. Keeping her tone friendly, she spoke to the vendor with confidence. “Do you have a light and some blane?”
“Blane?” The woman’s suspicious gaze fell on Alara, almost making her wish she’d walked on without stopping.
“Blane’s an element in fertilizer,” Alara explained.
The woman bent behind her counter, pulled out a flexible pot, and dipped her hand into tiny balls the color of sandbark berries. “Will these work?”
Alara sniffed the familiar tart scent and smiled in approval. “Now, for a light.” The vendor handed her a tube that flashed a pure white light. It wasn’t the best source for what Alara had in mind, but it would do. She poured water from a nearby ceramic jug into a bowl, stirred in the blane, sprinkled the mixture onto the bud, and applied light for a catalyst. Within moments the bud expanded and the petals unfolded, revealing a lovely celadon flower with a periwinkle center.
The vendor oohed and aahed as several potential buyers stopped to watch. “Do it again, please.”
Alara sprinkled more of the mixture onto the plant, and the buds opened in all their ethereal radiance. “Blane, water, and light accelerate blooming.”
“That’s a neat trick.” A sharp-eyed customer held out a few pellets. “I’ll take two plants and that mixture to show my husband.”
“Me, too.” A young man made a purchase and handed the plant to his girl.
“Thank you.” The vendor quickly took care of her customers and grinned at Alara who repeated the process on another plant. While Xander stood protectively close, she worked to coax more flowers to bloom, and the bright petals added a light fragrance to the air.
With bright-eyed happiness, the vendor handed the plant Alara had just worked on back to her along with a handful of blane balls. “For your help.”
Xander shook his head. “That’s not—”
“Thank you.” Alara placed the blane in her pocket and accepted the plant in one arm, waved goodbye, and with her free hand tugged him past the growing group of customers, around a corner. “Shh. Don’t be impolite.”
Exasperation at the delay and the notion of carrying the heavy plant edged his tone. “We can’t carry—”
“You said to watch for economic opportunities. Do you have anything on your person you can sell?”
“Are you suggesting we attempt to sell . . . a plant?”
“Gentlemen at art shows might pay a goodly sum for a blossom for their lady.” Although she half-expected him to reject her idea, she nevertheless made the suggestion in the hopes he wouldn’t.
They strode through the busy market in silence, winding their way past a juggler, a cart pulled by a six-legged equine bot, and a stone fountain spouting frothy green bubbles. A woman hawked finely wrought anklets from her booth, and Alara shook her head and caught Xander’s eye.
He gave her a sidelong glance that she couldn’t read. “You’re just full of surprises.”
She arched her brow. “How do you think I fund my laboratory?”
“I assumed the government—”
“Drik hates me.” They wound their way through the dwindling crowd into a side alley. “The government was never in favor of my research. I buy and sell rare and luxurious items to pay the bills.”
In the narrow alley, the taller buildings blocked the sun. She appreciated the shade, the relative privacy, and the opportunity to speak frankly with Xander. Her father had belittled her mother’s every effort to work outside the home. If he’d lived, he would have disapproved—just like every Endekian male—of not only Alara’s research, but her entrepreneurial success. But Xander came from Rystan, and she didn’t know their customs. Would her commercial acumen make him question his self-worth as it would most Endekian men?
“You must be a very successful businesswoman to fund your research facility.”
“I do all right.”
Conversation ceased as Alara handed the plant to Xander, then broke off flowers and stems until she had a bouquet. While she had yet to ascertain his opinion, she supposed she’d have to be satisfied that he hadn’t belittled or mocked her. Come to think of it, Xander had only done that once—when he’d mistakenly believed she’d trade her body for freedom. The rest of the time, he’d treated her almost as an equal.
Except during mating—then he’d demanded, commanded, taken total charge. Due to the big Rystani’s mating skills and his attitude, for once the memory of Boktai wasn’t horrible. Memories of their joining heated her flesh and lightened her heart as well as her step as they found the gallery.
She stuck one flower under her hood and behind her ear, arranging it to poke out at a jaunty angle, pasted a smile on her face, and stepped into the gallery. The inside sported monochromatic gray walls, ceiling, and floors to set off the colorful art display. Patrons drank bubbly drinks in long fluted glasses and helped themselves to bite-sized pastries passed out by bots with trays.
Alara went to work. She picked out a distinguished-looking gold-haired gentleman with a flirty young woman by his side. Jewelry dripped from her ears, neck, and wrists, jingling and calling attention to her wealth.
Alara placed the flower near the lady’s nose so she could take in the aromatic scent, but spoke to her escort. “Buy a flower for your lady?”
The young woman sniffed in delight. “Yes, please.”
“How much?” With a warm glance of approval at his lady, her escort reached into his pocket and withdrew several pellets.
“That will be fine.” Alara plucked the credits from his hand and kept working the crowded room. Since she had no idea of the monetary system on Lapau, she had no notion what she was earning. But something was better than nothing.
When she was down to her last two flowers, she took a break. With admiration in his eyes, Xander handed her a well-deserved drink of caramel-colored liquid and a plate of flaky pastries with delicate pink, sienna, and ocher icing. Sipping from her glass, allowing the fruity alcohol to soothe her parched throat, she leaned against a wall, pleased with her efforts, gratified that Xander a
ppreciated her creativity.
She didn’t know exactly when earning his approval had become important to her—but it had. Along the way, they’d become a team. While she’d sold flowers, Xander had moved among the crowd, listening to conversations and picking up knowledge—hopefully useful information. A man as big as Xander could never be unobtrusive, and the ladies had swarmed around him like bees to nectar. However, he’d kept a protective eye on Alara, and when he’d spotted her resting, he’d broken free of the flirting ladies to join her.
He leaned his head close to hers and kept his voice low, his tone husky. “I overheard a woman talking about obtaining a procreation license. Maybe the authorities issue licenses here.”
Although shocked, she also kept her voice low. “They require a license to have children?”
“Apparently.”
He shook his head, obviously thinking the idea as peculiar as she did. “You want Arc Six.”
“Arc?” She raised an eyebrow. It seemed as if every bit of new information brought surprises. “Not a block or a street but an Arc?”
A slender, light-haired woman in a stiff pastel dress with annoyed green eyes approached and gripped Alara’s arm. “You have no right to sell flowers in my establishment. Leave immediately.”
Xander stepped between the gallery’s owner and Alara, breaking the other woman’s hold on her arm. “We are leaving right now.”
Alara understood that Xander wanted to depart immediately, but she feared the woman might call the authorities after them. While they needed to speak with someone in charge, they also had to stay out of trouble. If Alara could make things right with the store’s owner, she would.
She handed a flower to the angry woman. “I’m sorry. Please accept this as my apology. We are new here and didn’t know we’d . . . trespassed. It won’t happen again.”
Slightly mollified by the apology and the flower, the woman lost her scowl but jerked her chin to the door. “Out.”
Xander took a step toward the exit, but stopped to speak over his shoulder, raising his voice so the other patrons could overhear. “We’re trying to find Arc Six. If you could point us in the right direction . . .”
The Ultimatum Page 15