by E. R. Mason
“So I’m to be your slave? That’ll be a switch,” said Catherine.
Wilson blurted out laughter, but stopped abruptly when he noticed no one else was laughing.
“You’ll need a temporary tattoo of ownership somewhere on your face, too, Catherine,” I added.
“What? A big phallic symbol on my cheek or something?” she replied disparagingly.
Wilson began another short burst but again thought better of it.
“Catherine and Patrick will be my main entourage. Financial questions will be referred to Patrick. You’ll need to learn a few lines of whatever species we choose for you, Patrick.” I looked directly at the two of them. “Can you both do it? Either of you care to bow out? Nobody’s saying it will be safe.”
“So, what exactly is the objective?” asked Patrick.
“To weasel as much information out of them as possible without making them suspicious. For example, I’m very fussy about my slave servants. I prefer Earth women, when they can be obtained. They’re expensive, but I can afford them. I would like my estate to reflect wealth as much as possible. Can I personally screen my Earth women slaves before purchasing them? How is that done? Can I begin reviewing the profiles of human females currently available?”
“It’s still like looking for a needle in a haystack,” said Patrick.
“Maybe not so much. We know approximately when Emma was taken. We have a time frame. We know her age. The stuff we found in that cave on Enrika suggests this place is one of the primary distribution points for human slaves. Somewhere down there are records of all that. Even if she’s not here, if we can get into the right records library, there’s a good chance we can get a facial recognition match and find out where she is. We don’t want to set off any bells by scanning confidential libraries, but there’s nothing to stop us from tapping into satellite transmissions being made to the surface. The biggest data centers will be the busiest. We’ll hang up here for a while longer and see if we can get any more leads, then try to set up an appointment to talk about property. If that works, we’ll make a gauche landing in the most public area we can find. Once again, anybody want to opt out?”
They looked at each other with misgiving. No one spoke until Wilson. “You sure you want to leave me behind on this one, Adrian?”
“You’re the Cavalry, Wilson. If it all goes to hell our best chance is to have you locked and loaded.”
“What’s to stop them from just commandeering this vessel and imprisoning us when we land?”
“Greed, Wilson. The belief that they stand to gain much more by dealing with us, and I’m sure they’re already aware of the Griffin’s weapons capability. Even if they tried to take us and won, they’d lose a lot. We’ll have Danica lift off and resume orbit as soon as she drops us, though. Just for safety's sake.”
The group looked at each other with deepening concern, but no one objected. We disbanded to our appropriate tasks. The doctors went to the lab to concoct a bluing for me and to tattoo Catherine into slavery. R.J. and Wilson hit their engineering stations to search for the control centers on XiTau. Danica remained up front, monitoring status, shields energized to automatic, weapons always available.
After intense soul searching, I decided shaving oneself bald would be best done alone. With my tablet of Sirenian phraseology in hand, I retreated to a shower and began the discomforting process. The showers give you adjustable mirrors all around. The vision of the bare back of your head makes you feel like you’re looking at someone else. The laser razor did a fine job of removing any last traces of hair. I looked down at my pubic area, argued with myself, and finally decided that the dead Sumanian lizard people on that slave ship would be the last to see me naked against my will.
Back in ship’s stores, the boxes of spare apparel allowed me an adequately garish suit of rainbow-colored Nehru clothing, intended for a woman, but just extravagant enough for a self-absorbed Sirenian lord. Dressed in my new-found Halloween garb, I went to the med lab for my bluing.
Catherine took me by surprise. She turned when I entered to reveal a tattoo of the Sirenian sun with a crest inside its corona emblazoned on her right cheek. She appraised my bald head and outlandish outfit, put one hand over her mouth, and blurted out a muffled laugh.
Patrick turned, raised an eyebrow, and gave a forced half-smile.
“It’s a pill,” he said, and he held out a small tablet in his left hand. “Six to eight hours to take effect, probably forty-eight to wear off, though you’ll have a blue tint for a while after that.”
“Nice tattoo job,” I replied.
Catherine said, “It’s the Sirenian sun with your family crest in the center. We pulled it off a data page we found. If they research it, it will hold up. The family is too large to trace all the way through. Your name is Lord Descarius Mandarin.”
“By the way, your pale gray eyes happened to be perfect for the larger-sized Sirenian male,” added Patrick.
I reached out and accepted the little blue tablet from him and looked down at it with trepidation.
“Best taken with food and drink,” said Patrick.
“Bourbon and pretzels?”
“Hardly,” replied Catherine.
I turned and left the lab, staring down at the tablet. In the galley, I drew a large glass of water, said a short prayer, swallowed the thing and shuddered, then decided to change back into a flight suit.
Forward, at their engineering stations, R.J. and Wilson were painting each other’s face and neck with a lacework of fractal-like patterns. They stopped to gawk at my bald head but resisted any attempts at humor.
“Nice 'toos. What’s the latest?”
“It’s good,” replied Wilson. “We’ve isolated four government centers, a dozen police installations, and three major communications centers. We have the com scanners set up on auto to look for several hundred keywords. This orbit happens to be perfect for global coverage. We also have four links to what you would call real estate centers. The representatives are referred to as Chancellors of Domestic Affairs. We can contact the best choice whenever you’re ready.”
“It’s the end of Danica’s shift. I’ll relieve her, let her sleep, then get some myself. In the morning, if everything still looks okay, we’ll all get our stories straight and give it our best shot.”
I went forward to turn Danica loose. After she was gone, R.J. came forward and took her empty seat. He sat, silently staring out the forward view screen at the big ball of CD-48 11069. Without looking away he said, “This plan feels fraught with peril.”
“What’s your point?”
“I’ve been thinking. The skull could possibly come in handy if it all went to crap.”
“I hate to admit it. The thought has crossed my mind, too.”
“All I’d need was the name and location of anyone that you wanted to become suddenly helpful.”
“We’ve only tried the thing once, really. You haven’t noticed any harmful effects, have you?”
“No. None. And you know something? I have the strangest feeling that over time I could eventually learn to do the same thing without the skull.”
“God forbid.”
“Apparently He does not.”
“Well, having experienced slavery recently, I do not plan on accepting anything resembling it again. If it comes to that, I’ll call on you.”
“We need a hidden communication setup between just you and I, something the bad guys would not notice. That way, in a pinch you can give me the name and locale I would need.”
“I’ve got translators in my ears and a homing beacon under the skin of one arm. What else do you suggest?”
“A transducer behind one ear, one that transmits and receives. You tap once behind your ear to transmit. Then I can always open a channel to warn you as needed.”
“We have those?”
“Wilson does. I’ve already discussed it with him. He likes the idea.”
“Okay. I’m sold. Tomorrow morning you can stick me be
hind the ear. It’s way better than being hosed down naked in front of lizard people.”
“What?”
“That’s another story. I’ll tell you about it someday.”
I awoke with a start in my sleeper cell and stared up at the adjustable overhead lamp as consciousness slowly seeped back in. Immediately I jerked one arm up to look.
Blue.
My palm was a light blue. My nails were light blue. The rest of me an evenly blended dark blue. I reached up and felt my head to confirm that the baldness had not been a dream. It was shiny smooth up there. I was hesitant to look in a mirror. A cream hair remover would be needed to erase the beard shadow completely enough. It felt like morning had arrived ahead of schedule.
In the habitat module, everyone was already there. The most eye-catching of the bunch was Catherine. She had used what looked like a long one-foot-wide piece of silk to wrap around herself, beginning at the neck and descending to the knee. Wide gaps had been left in the wrap, exposing her neck and upper chest, stomach and hips, and thighs. It was quite an ample amount of skin. Others in the group were stealing glances when they could. She had two wide silver bracelets with lighted jewels on each wrist, giving the impression of restraining devices. Everyone else bore intricate facial and neck tattoos, except Patrick. He wore a tanned leather jacket and pants that made him look like a trader. He had inserted dark tinted contact lenses that covered all of his eyes. It was a great disguise.
For a moment I wondered why they were staring more at me than anyone else, then I caught a glimpse of my blue reflection in a nearby panel. “I see we are all suited up for war. Anybody having any second thoughts yet?”
“I ought to be going, Adrian,” said Wilson.
“Careful what you wish for.”
Wilson added, “We’ve got a good lock on things. When you start asking questions, we think we know what to monitor to watch for their communications about it. Also, photo analysis shows one particular estate that seems to have an unusually large contingent of service people with no indications that it’s actually a residence. The walls have razor wire facing in.”
R.J. said, “We’re set up to contact the Chancellor of Domestic Affairs office that seems to lead the rest. Anytime you’re ready.”
“Well, gentlemen, in that case put on some reggae music for background. This is a party ship after all. Let’s see what they have to say.”
We gathered around the A engineering station. I gently pulled Catherine forward. “You’re my executive consort. Your name’s Areana. You get to do the talking.”
She looked at me with skepticism. “Wow. We’re really going through with this?”
“Send a typed message to R.J.’s link. Your master respectfully requests an audience with the Chancellor to discuss matters of significant commerce.”
Catherine slid into the station control seat and typed the message. R.J. leaned over and transmitted it. We stood around, staring with anticipation, the annoying reggae music playing in the background.
Our wait was surprisingly brief. An incoming audio message indicator began flashing on the console. A moment later, a voice came through speaking a language none of us recognized, though the voice translators quickly converted it.
“Greetings and warmest welcome, Exxetor. I am Chancellor Akai. I may be of some humble assistance. May I inquire as to the nature of the commerce to which you refer?”
Catherine spoke without being prompted. “I am Areana, Chancellor. Chief Executor for Master Mandarin. My master has heard such wonderful things about XiTau. He wishes to explore the possibility of residence here. Would there be any estates of considerable breadth available now or in the near future?”
Chancellor Akai did not hesitate. “Indeed there would possibly be something that could be made available for the right individual. XiTau holdings require a substantial investment however, Areana. There are so many interested, you understand.”
“My master is not concerned with matters of compensation, Chancellor, although he is quite discriminating about staff availability. May we visit you to discuss arrangements that might be conducive to us both?”
“We would be most anxious to greet you, dear friends. However, a substantial deposit is generally required as a show of good faith.”
Catherine looked up at me. I turned to R.J. “Can I use your new diamond set?”
“My diamond set?”
“For god’s sake, the one they gave you on Enuro.”
“How did I get that again?”
I whispered into Catherine’s ear. She nodded and keyed her transmit button. “Chancellor, our gold deliveries are made by special courier. Would diamonds be an acceptable medium?”
The Chancellor’s voice abruptly became friendlier. “Most acceptable, Areana. Please give your master my warmest regards. We will transmit landing coordinates to you immediately. I so look forward to showing you the beauty XiTau has to offer those in a position to appreciate it.”
The receiver light went dark. Everyone gasped and relaxed as though the operation had been announced a success.
Wilson spoke from the B engineering station. “Well, that sure set off a flurry of communications.” He looked at me through the crowd. “Take a while to break them all down, but the ones that I suspect we caused are all going to the security centers, the main government center, and to the other office complexes. I’m betting they think they have a live one on their hands.”
“Let’s hope greed overcomes caution,” I said.
Danica called back from the flight deck. “I already have the landing coordinates. It’s up ahead.”
“Ladies and gentleman, let’s strap in for landing. It’s not everyday you purchase a huge estate complete with slaves.”
Wilson said, “I just hope we’re not buying the farm.”
Chapter 24
The landing area was a bed of roses, literally. There were no service facilities, nor were there any service personnel. We set down gently on Griffin’s wheels within a huge flower garden, low walls of colorful blooms around the ship, large beds of flower color scattered in every direction across well-trimmed, green grass lawn. The only pad of hardened surface was the one we had touched down on. A few workers of varying species in bright white overalls were maintaining the gardens. Directly ahead of us was an oval-shaped glass building protected by a moat of glistening blue water with many running fountains. A wide white bridge with no railing offered a way across. In every direction, the place looked like Shangri-la.
The aft airlock door hissed open to reveal Chancellor Akai and two of his handmaidens. The Chancellor was one of the most oddly-proportioned men I had ever seen. His head was slightly mushroom-shaped. There was no forehead. His widespread eyes were fixed just below the flat top of his baldness. His nose was too low, leaving an empty spot in the face. Immediately beneath it, his small mouth was set slightly to one side. His skin was an unpleasantly grainy, milky white. His arms were too low on his torso, and both his arms and legs were not jointed midway. He wore fancy, ruffled clothing, a red jacket embellished with gold buttons, fit for an audience with the queen. His black slacks were tapered to match the queer knee joints. His dark shoes were heavily engraved and flat-topped.
The females standing alongside Akai were not only nicely formed, they were exotically beautiful in an alien way. I did not recognize their species, but their hair was a sparkling white and tied to fall across one shoulder. They wore colorful, one-piece, see-through robes that touched the ground but did not conceal crystal-covered slippers. They were green-skinned and emanated sensuality. The features of their faces were small and beautifully sculpted. They wore silver, metallic neck collars that looked like restraining devices.
We had worked out the details of our charade very carefully. As planned, Wilson and R.J., blatantly tattooed and in matching flight suits, marched down the ramp and stood at attention at the bottom. Black-eyed Patrick, carrying a satchel with financial tablets, went next and stood in abeyance between them.
Lastly, my human slave Catherine went gracefully down, and did it well enough that I caught just a glimmer of appreciation in the Chancellor’s narrow stare. At the ramp’s bottom, she turned to survey the area, introduced Patrick and herself, then signaled me that it was an acceptable setting for my presence. I paused at the top of the ramp, inspected my entourage, and walked belligerently down to meet the Chancellor.
When emulating a selfish, self-important person, one must be careful to show recognition and admiration for others of his kind. I stood in front of Akai and bowed at the waist, holding my two hands in prayer form. I held the pose slightly longer than was perhaps proper, to emphasize the man’s importance. He responded with a quick duck of his head and fashioned a very weird smile from his offset purple lips.
“Lord Mandarin, what a wonderful means of transportation. Large enough for comfort, yet perfect for timely travel,” he said.
I looked to Catherine.
“Yes, Chancellor. My Master uses it when he is anxious to see a potential purchase.”
“Then I am glad,” replied Akai. “Let us leave the garden’s beauty for the comfort of the reception area.”
I bowed again. The Chancellor bowed politely in return. The six of us headed for the bridge, leaving Wilson and R.J. standing at attention. It looked like Wilson squinted, trying to ward off laughter.
The reception area was as lavish as the garden. There were flowers in exotic vases everywhere. There was a globe the size of a beach ball in the center of the room, intricately detailed with the topography of XiTau. Walls, floor, and ceiling were all tinted glass that was actually a collage of display screens showing very slow-moving, swirling color. Plush seating formed meeting areas in various spots around the room. Although the place looked pristine, I had the feeling the room had been closed and covered until our arrival, as though real estate on XiTau was not a fast-moving commodity. There were adjoining offices that looked seldom used, but also exotically decorated. Akai led us to a circle of seats and motioned us to sit. He took a position next to a control panel built into a glass center table. His female companions headed elsewhere.