Dr. Barazi stood with the group xenobiologist, Dr. Sarnia Dorf, by the rooftop landing pad. The large square had been carved out of the mountain top and sealed with some dark material that contained a pearlescent shimmer. The sealant made the pads easily visible from the air.
The color of Dr. Barazi's perfectly pressed dark suit matched his impeccably smooth black hair. Sarnia Dorf was the mother figure of their group, grown thick with age but still straight backed. Dr. Dorf had been a xenobiologist so long that she peered at everyone as though studying a specimen. She turned around and peered at Sheleigh like that now.
"Very good color for you, Sheleigh. You and I are precious metals tonight." Sarnia gestured to her own silver silk dress. With her gray and white hair, she looked very distinguished in her outfit.
"You look lovely, Sarnia," Sheleigh commented.
"I've noticed the Averans respect their elders. I thought I'd make the most of being elder." She laughed a full-bodied laugh and Sheleigh laughed with her. Dr. Barazi just looked indulgent.
The final member of their party hurried from the hydrolift. Dr. Rahwen Suresh was untidy, as usual. He had a complete lack of sense of style and remained pretty much oblivious to anything outside of his field.
Sarnia moved to his side and began to straighten his tunic. "Rah, we're tying to make a good impression tonight."
"Lot of fuss and bother," he blustered. "Cutting into my work time." Sheleigh smiled at his comments. All he needed to make him a caricature would be thick glasses.
A "wop-wop-wop" sound heralded the arrival of the air transport. Sheleigh held onto her hair while it dropped neatly to the landing pad. She'd never seen air transports like the Averans used and she wished that USP would be allowed to obtain the technology. They looked like insects with their glass bubble fronts that allowed unhindered visibility. The transports came in all sizes and every Averan over a certain age owned at least one.
Because a multitude of rivers had carved the planet into an endless warren of crisscrossing canyons, there weren't any roads. Thus, the only logical method of transportation was by air.
She climbed into the six-passenger transport, nodding to the pilot as she did so. She'd flown with this particular pilot many times. This was an official government transport, arranged for by the council. She belted in and took a deep breath in preparation for the wild ride to come.
The transport rose smoothly straight up, then zipped forward. It dove into a canyon to the right like a hummingbird darted into flowers. The canyon walls flashed by at an alarming speed and close proximity. Every Averan she'd flown with piloted like this and they loved it. Their faces glowed as they flew and it was hard to capture their attention while the transports were in operation. She'd tried. Pilot and machine appeared to function as one. She'd watched and studied them, but didn't understand how the young people learned how to fly without splattering their machines against the canyon walls. The Earth expedition was banned from flying any type of air transport because of the danger involved.
The setting sun glinted off the glass panes of the residences as the transport flashed past. By USP standards, they were nothing more than primitive caves modified with technological advances. Carved into the top levels of the sheer walled canyons, almost all of them faced south in order to receive light all day long.
Primitive people would seek shelter in a southern facing location, but modern people would seek shelter anywhere. The Averans retained their original shelters even after they'd gained technology, and that made no sense to her. Technology hadn't freed them from their primitive past. How had those primitives gotten up to those high caves in the first place?
Technology had made their lives easier, though. A hydrolift ran through the center of each residence or business, from landing pad top all the way down to the river's edge at the bottom of the canyons. The rivers provided a powerful source of hydroelectric power. The Averans also harnessed solar power with huge arrays of photoelectric panels strategically placed along the cliff tops.
So the caves had electricity, an odd form of refrigeration, running water and plumbing, while the insides of the residences were smooth rock walls, floors and ceilings. Steps going to the various levels were carved out of the rock. The surfaces and interiors were cool, a relief from the hot outdoors.
Sheleigh had ceased to feel claustrophobic as she moved about under tons of rock. Many of the places she'd been, like the council hall, had a very old feel to them. Business offices had a newer feel about them, although they were still carved out of the sides of cliffs.
Their transport lined up for a landing and she relaxed. The hairy ride would soon be over and she'd be with Kleet again. Excitement bubbled inside her. They'd never been together in a public arena. They would be unable to conceal the attraction they felt for one another. Maybe Kleet didn't want to hide what they shared. She should have asked him what he thought, instead of going in blind like this. She couldn't make assumptions about what he did or didn't want. Her group's presence on Avera was too fragile. Blast him for fogging her mind with passion when they should have been talking instead.
There were numerous transports landing and disgorging their passengers. It was a well-rehearsed dance of drop, empty, and lift. Soon it was their turn on one of the many landing pads. The government center was a huge flat-topped mountain that contained many levels of government offices, including Kleet's and his father's. It also contained the council assembly hall and the huge meeting room where tonight's reception was to take place.
Her group got in line with all the glittering attendees, who were resplendent in their best evening clothes. Their capes were richly and elaborately embroidered and detailed, and many of the females wore jeweled clasps to hold their capes around their necks.
Sheleigh had wondered about the meaning of the capes from the moment they'd landed on the planet. Every inhabitant wore one--male and female, adult and child. The men's were usually dark, the women's were lighter colored, and the children's were brightly colored. They covered from neck to below the knees. At first she'd thought them an affectation, until she saw the children wearing them. Later she asked someone to remove his cape and saw the fear in his eyes. That's when she realized the Averans clung to their capes for a terrifying reason they would not disclose.
Fifty feet away there was a scuffle and she craned her neck to see what was going on. Security guards held back several young adults from coming near the reception attendees. The young people wore everyday clothes, not party attire.
A sandy-haired young man in the group looked right at her. He shouted, "Share the wealth. Share the power. Hear us aquila mancers. Our time has come."
"What did he say?" she demanded of Dr. Barazi. "I didn't understand some of those words."
"I've never heard them before. They weren't in the USP tutorial."
The young man shouted his rhetoric again, making the party-goers shy away nervously. Several of them glanced apprehensively at her group. What did the Averans have to fear from the four of them? Did it have something to do with the words she couldn't understand?
She grabbed the middle-aged couple in front of her. "What is he saying?"
There was real fear on their faces and the woman moved slightly behind the man. The man answered. "It's not nice. Very derogatory. I won't repeat it to you."
Derogatory toward whom? "He said something about wealth. I didn't realize you had poor people here."
"Not poor. But some people have more material possessions than others." He turned away, putting his arm around the woman, and they moved forward in line.
His answer wasn't really an answer. If the standard among Averans was to have a certain number of material possessions, then persons having less than that number would consider themselves poor or disadvantaged.
The shouting stopped mid-word as two burly security guards knocked the protestor down. One pressed a knee into the young man's back while the other bound his arms behind him. Sheleigh moved slightly in that direction
, wanting to talk to the dissidents.
A guard blocked her path. "No, madam. Please stay with your group."
"I'm here to observe. I want to hear what that young man has to say."
"You don't want to hear his foul words. Please move forward. I believe the next hydrolift will hold your group."
Dr. Barazi took hold of her arm in a fierce grip and moved her forward. Sheleigh wanted to know what was going on. "Dr. Barazi," she spoke softly in English, "something's going on here. A protestor means there's an issue to protest. That's a part of social relations and cultural development, which are two of my fields. You can't say I don't have a professional interest in hearing the other side of their dispute."
"We've been told to move along. We can't risk alienating our hosts this soon in our stay. For now, let's do as we were told."
Sheleigh fumed. Dr. Barazi was in political mode right now and didn't want to make waves. She wanted to know what the Averans were hiding. Perhaps these dissidents held the answer to the questions that nagged at her about Averan society. Her professional curiosity was like a hound held back from the scent. She wanted to howl her displeasure. Their group did, indeed, fit into the next hydrolift cab, and they descended quickly to the reception hall. The Averans in the cab were subdued. She caught a number of curious glances aimed her group's way. It wasn't the first time she'd been on another planet, nor the first time she was the alien in a society, but it was still uncomfortable being treated as an outsider.
The hydrolift door opened and spilled its passengers into the corridor outside the reception hall. She'd never been in this hall and she looked around avidly as they waited in line. Exquisite pottery filled a series of glass cases that lined both sides of the corridor. Her palms itched to hold the beautiful pieces in her hands, to study the evolution of their culture through their art. Here was a gold mine of history that had almost as much pull as Kleet did.
As though thinking his name conjured him, her move forward in line brought Kleet into view. He looked up and smiled intimately, then turned his attention back to the glittering couple in front of him. She could breathe again once he looked away, and she used the opportunity to study him and his father.
They stood side by side, dressed in the finest lightweight fabrics. They wore straight black trousers, tightly woven, and tailored white shirts. Kelfer's black cape was edged in deep purple, while Kleet's was black on black. Each of their capes was secured with a clasp of shiny metal. Sheleigh couldn't discern the design of the clasp from this distance. The men looked handsome and regal.
Kelfer was an older version of Kleet. His dark brown hair was liberally salted with gray now, but he had the same proud nose and wide forehead. They were the same height with similar breadth across the shoulders. Kelfer's eyes were darker than Kleet's. He had a presence and intensity that were only foreshadowed in his son. Sheleigh thought it came from a lifetime of being first the heir and then the actual ruler of the whole planet. They called him the Avatier, and he held a hereditary position like that of a king. With the backing of the council, he directed the fate of Averans all over the planet.
Kleet projected the hope and the promise of the future, the vitality of youth, even though he was thirty-five. He was the next generation, filled with incipient power. Robust energy and health glowed in his rugged face. Dark and brooding described him better than classically handsome, but she still found him compellingly attractive.
Then she was in front of Kelfer, shaking his hand. "Father, you remember Sheleigh O'Brien," Kleet introduced her. Suddenly Kelfer's intense scrutiny sharpened and she felt seared clear through, as though he saw right down to her bones. She tried not to flinch under his probing gaze. What had Kleet told him about her? Had he told his father that he was trying to have an affair with her?
Then she was released from the laser-like gaze and she moved in front of Kleet. He clasped her hands in his warm ones and she clutched him almost desperately. She wanted to be reassured, she wanted to be in his arms, she wanted him to kiss her. Her face warmed with a blush at her heated thoughts.
Kleet smiled. "Later," he whispered, and let her go.
She moved away from him and only then did she realize that she'd become the focus of many stares. Oh no! She'd been indiscreet and had flaunted their attraction in front of his people and her peers. Mortified at being so brazen in public, she ducked her head. Her embarrassment helped to cool her boiling blood and heated loins.
Sarnia took hold of her arm as their group moved further into the room. "I'd heard the heir came to see you often. Now I know why." She spoke softly so that only Sheleigh could hear. "He's a lot of man for a woman's first time."
"I haven't done anything," Sheleigh protested. She tried to pull her arm out of Sarnia's grasp but failed.
"But you want to, and so does he. It's as clear as the nose on your face. Be careful, Sheleigh. I have nothing against inter-species relationships, but we've barely begun to study the Averans. You don't want to get caught in anything you weren't expecting."
"I'm being cautious," Sheleigh murmured. "Don't worry about me."
They moved forward into the milling throng. A passing server gave Sheleigh a slender glass goblet of a pale liquid. She sniffed it discreetly and verified it was wine. She sipped carefully, not wanting to become intoxicated, especially not tonight. It had a tart, refreshing snap to it. She appreciated it more after having traveled to the vineyards to see the wine industry. The vineyards were nestled in the high mountainsides where the Averan sun wasn't so hot and where it seemed only mountain goats should be able to go. But once again she found Averans prospering in high places.
She savored another sip while studying the room. It was a huge cave, a story and a half tall inside. Its walls and ceilings were smooth rock marbled with veins of some gorgeous red ore that sparkled in the light. It needed no additional decoration to make it a spectacular room. There were numerous glass chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Glassmaking was a booming industry on Avera.
One of the council members captured her attention and she was soon absorbed in a discussion of cultural evolution on other planets. She was excited to discuss this topic, hoping her descriptions of other societies would lessen the apprehension Averans felt about other people. She was so wrapped up in her tale of the wonder of Carisi society that she didn't notice who was standing next to her until she turned slightly.
"Kleet. I was just telling councilwoman Verreaux about the culture of the planet Caris," she told him breathlessly. His presence, combined with the excitement of wooing Averans to universal knowledge, made her feel slightly tipsy. She knew it wasn't the wine making her feel that way.
"I can see you're enjoying yourself. I hate to interrupt, but you promised to dance with me."
Her face warmed a little and her heart beat faster. "Yes, I did." The councilwoman faded from her view as Kleet pulled her out among the whirling couples.
"Kleet, I don't know your dances," she realized belatedly.
"Just hold onto me and move where I move." He took her in his arms and began to move. A glide, a swirl, turn, twirl, and glide to the side. After a few moments she realized there was a rhythm to the movements and she began to anticipate which way to move. She was enjoying the press of her body against his through her thin silk. The other couples were holding each other close, but not as close as Kleet held her. In her higher heels her lower body was more closely aligned with his and each twirl allowed him to rub intimately against her. By the end of the first song she was flushed and heated by more than dancing.
The musicians launched immediately into another tune and Kleet moved to its equally exuberant rhythm. The musicians played mainly string and wind instruments, and the melodies were exciting and strangely pagan. By the end of the third song she wanted a different kind of dance and rhythm with Kleet.
His eyes had darkened and she drowned in them. His face lowered and she thought he was going to kiss her. She had lifted her face before remembering they were in
the middle of the reception hall. She turned her head away and looked straight at the Averan liaison to their group, Harrier. He was an older gentleman, a contemporary and friend of Kelfer's. She flushed and tried to push out of Kleet's arms.
His lips brushed against her ear, part caress, and she shivered. "Later," he promised in a silken voice. He released her and she moved away from him on shaky legs.
At the refreshment table she conversed with a councilman who was interested in commerce. She was frustrated at not being able to answer all of his questions, and he seemed equally frustrated by her lack of knowledge. Her field was science, not industry. She could tell this man how an industry went from infancy to maturity, and generalities about USP trade, but nothing specific. Here was a perfect opportunity for USP, but Averan uneasiness with strangers prevented that opportunity from being utilized.
Another council member rescued her and the talk turned to how USP obtained members. While she stressed that belonging to Unified Sentient Planets was voluntary, the Averan did not seem to believe her.
"How many species have left your USP?" he insisted.
"Why, none. None of the ten species have felt any reason to leave. They've found the relationship to be mutually beneficial."
"What if individuals don't want to belong, but their rulers do?"
"USP tries to find out what the majority of the people on a planet think. We investigate before we invite membership, so it's hard to hide dissent. As a matter of fact, I saw a protestor outside when we landed. Maybe you can help me understand what he was shouting. It was something about 'aquila mancers,' I believe."
He stiffened. "Radicals, I assure you. Their number is small and they definitely do not represent mainstream Averan society. Dismiss them."
"But you see, this is exactly what we were discussing, Councilman. There is a division of thought on Avera, but no one will explain the point of contention."
Mating Flight Page 2