One afternoon Jennifer interrupted his history lesson.
“Hey! It’s not time for lunch already, is it?” Ray said, though he was happy she had come in to visit him earlier.
“I think we should talk, Ray.”
“Sure.”
“I’m really happy to have gotten to know you over the past month, Ray. But here at the academy, we never really have any alone time. Now I think…well…maybe we could go out for dinner some time.”
“Jenny, are you asking me out on a date?” Ray smiled.
“I don’t know. It depends. It’s your choice.” Jennifer returned his smile with one of her own. “Either way I just thought you’d like to try real food for once. There’s this really nice restaurant I like to go to and I think it might be a great experience for you…to try real food, that is.”
“Major Grant, that sounds like a date to me.”
“Then it’s a date,” she agreed, not too reluctantly, he noticed.
“What time?”
“Soon as we leave here. I’ll let you off an hour early and I’ll drive us over there. Sound good?”
“Just peachy.” Ray smiled, as he began to ponder all sorts of possibilities about what might occur after their meal.
Before he got much of a chance to think more about such splendid subjects, Ray found himself thrust back into the middle of his teaching session, the last before he was to begin military training in a real barracks the next day.
Well, it looks like I’m going to have some fun tonight.
Ray’s smile was big and obvious, though Jennifer didn’t seem to recognize his enthusiasm.
* * *
That night, minutes after Ray’s final retraining session, Jennifer drove him in her sleek black sports hovercar to London’s old Soho neighborhood (which retained almost none of the low-rise brick buildings that had once defined it in the early twenty-first century), where the restaurant, François’ Fralien Paradise, was located.
As they approached their destination, he saw the place was topped with a large green sign, with multicolored frames flashing on and off. Some strange music was played over a hidden loudspeaker system. He sensed an unfamiliar but pleasant odor, like broiled steak only a bit more pungent, filling the area around the place. It was evidently one of the dishes offered inside. Ray’s appetite was whetted. As they approached the door, it opened automatically, and they entered quickly.
The restaurant was not unlike the fashionable eating spots Ray used to visit, with ornate surroundings, piano player, chandelier, and a real open kitchen in the rear. Ray was happy to see there were no signs of food replicators anywhere.
Something was strange about the creature playing that piano, though. First, of all, he, or rather, it, didn’t look human; in fact, it wasn’t even close. It looked almost like an elephant. Although it didn’t have a trunk, only an enlarged nose, its rough skin was gray, and its ears were considerably larger than those of a human. It had thick arms, with three long, pointy fingers and a thumb, and two short, thick leg-like appendages. The only human-like attribute seemed to be the creature’s feet, as it was wearing the same sort of boots fashionable in this era. Ray recalled from his teaching sessions that the musician was a member of a race called the Qverians.
The instrument itself, while having a conventional appearance, was quite unconventional in the way it functioned. There were two rows of keys, and the musician deftly moved its thin fingers across the many keys with incredible rapidity, revealing a dexterity that seemed way beyond what a common concert pianist might achieve.
The sounds it produced! They were unlike any piano or keyboard instrument with which Ray was familiar. The music was positively surreal, enchanting. The melodies were in no way familiar to Ray, yet he was so taken up by their majesty it seemed he was floating.
As he listened to it, he remembered from one of his teaching sessions that the music was a fusion of earth and alien styles. The piano was actually a holographic keyboard capable of duplicating any musical instrument or complete orchestra with perfect pitch, harmony, and timbre. This was quite an improvement from most of the synthesizers back in the twenty-first century, which sounded totally artificial in comparison.
Before Ray could ponder his lessons further, he and Jennifer were approached by a short, black haired man, middle-aged
and somewhat rotund. Their host wore a silver suit, almost form fitting, which served to accentuate how truly out of shape he really was.
“Why, hello, Major Grant. It’s so nice to see you again.” The voice had a touch of a French accent. Ray didn’t know if it was real or feigned, much as some of the waiters in a Chinese restaurant would affect an Oriental dialect in order to impress tourists.
“It’s nice to see you again too, François. Sorry I haven’t been able to get over here in a while. I’ve been very busy.”
“Oh, that’s fine. Would you like your regular table? It’s available right now.”
“Of course.”
François led them to a round table with two wide, form-fitting seats at the back of the restaurant, from which they had a perfect view of the Qverian keyboard player.
Upon arriving at the table, François pulled out the chairs, and the couple sat down.
“Oh, Major Grant, you didn’t introduce your new boyfriend!” he teased her.
“François, now stop! He’s not my boyfriend, just one of my...students. We started class about a month ago.”
“I see,” Now François grinned from ear to ear.
Ray stuck out his hand, and François shook it.
“Nice to meet you. By the way, Major Grant, one month is more than enough time to get a boyfriend.”
“François, just cut it out! You’re always trying to play matchmaker!” She had a broad smile on her face now.
“I don’t like seeing you alone all the time. That’s all.”
Jennifer changed the subject. “So we’re starving, François. How about you bring us some Kodoki 2185 wine to start?”
He handed them their menus and walked away. After looking over a vast selection of strange and varied dishes, Ray took Jennifer’s advice and got the Fralien crepes. While waiting for the food to come, they drank green wine, a popular import from the Alliance world of Kodoki. While waiting for their meal, the two talked about their pasts, especially their childhoods. They found they had more in common than either had imagined. Jennifer had also been born in the south, in Virginia, before her family moved to the Mars colony. Her parents both passed away in the last few years. As they got to know each other, they become closer. They seemed to be a good match. Perhaps they might have entered a deeper relationship earlier…if it weren’t for the striking image of a certain alien woman that continued to haunt Ray.
Ray barely considered that, in his time at least, it wasn’t appropriate for students and teachers to have a relationship. Besides, their ages were similar and his student status would soon end.
After a short while, François returned to their table, putting down two large dishes with silver covers in the center. He also set down a bottle filled with a strange green liquid.
François made a dramatic flourish as he lifted the covers and exclaimed, “Dinner is served!”
Ray looked down and saw two regular-looking crepes, and next to them an ordinary-looking salad. Suddenly, to his complete surprise, he noticed the lettuce moving right off the plate, sneaking its way off the table; he caught it with his fork before the living vegetable could escape and put it right back on his plate.
“What the hell is this? Why is the lettuce moving? Am I hallucinating or something?”
François laughed, holding his bulging stomach. “Ha, ha, I have tricked you! I forgot to tell you when you ordered that the lettuce in the crepe is alive! Alive!” He laughed heartily at Ray’s obvious discomfort.
A sickening feeling suddenly came over Ray. The thought of eating living lettuce didn’t sound so appealing to him. He braced himself, as he began to feel extremely naus
eated.
He managed to stammer a response. “Why was the lettuce moving away from me?”
“I guess it didn’t like you very much.” François grinned.
Ray groaned. “Oh come on, lettuce doesn’t have any
personality!”
“Maybe it does, maybe it doesn’t. We’ve never been able to figure it out for certain.”
“What—where does this thing come from?”
“Oh, it’s a long story. Some time I’ll tell you. You’ll really get a kick out of the tale. I have searched far and wide for the finest ingredients for the meals we serve.”
François turned serious and said, “I want you to taste it now; you’ll love it.”
Ray was reluctant to devour something that was still alive when he put it in his mouth. He had a hard enough time eating sushi, and the fish were dead before being consumed.
He picked up his fork and poked it into the lettuce a couple of times. As he lifted it toward his mouth, he heard a tiny whine.
Shocked. Ray nearly dropped his fork. He began to put it back down, resigning himself to the fact he wouldn’t be able to tolerate the living food.
“Try it, my alien friend, whoever you are. I had something quite similar to that dish last night, and I must admit, it was a meal I shall never forget,” said the voice that suddenly appeared in Ray’s head.
The words were in perfect English, but the voice had a peculiar musical lilt, one so pleasant he thought the one who uttered those words could comfort him with her voice alone. He was utterly entranced and yet totally surprised.
“Who said that?” asked Ray out loud.
Jennifer stared at him. “Ray, what are you talking about? Who said what?”
“It wasn’t the lettuce talking. It isn’t that advanced.” François chimed in.
Ray shook his head. The voice had gone away, as he looked back at his dish.
“Sorry, I thought I heard someone talking to me from across the restaurant,” he lied, though he figured Jennifer didn’t believe a word of it.
With renewed confidence, he grabbed his fork, took a piece of the crepe, and slowly put the food in his mouth. He chewed it, slowly, deliberately, trying to force his mouth to make the usually instinctive motions. With a great deal of effort, he swallowed the first bite, trying as hard as he could to give a show of courage to Jennifer and François.
He needn’t have suffered the agony; it was delicious!
“Ha, ha! I knew you’d like it!” said François happily. “Now I have to go take care of my many other satisfied customers.”
He strolled off again in his stiff manner, chuckling happily.
They both enjoyed their wonderful meal of colorful crepes, that living—well, moving salad, and sweet, non-intoxicating green wine. After they finished their meal, François came by with a dessert cart from which they each chose a piece of Fralien cake.
The cake did not exhibit any outward signs of movement while being eaten.
When Jennifer asked for the check, François had a broad grin. “It’ll be my treat…this time.”
“Thanks, François. That’s so nice of you!” exclaimed Jennifer in mock sarcasm.
“Anything for you, my dear,” said François as he kissed Jennifer’s hand and started to move his way up her arm.
“Hey, don’t bother my girlfriend!” Ray shouted in mock anger.
“Oh, I thought she wasn’t your girlfriend!” François responded, feigning surprise.
“She is now, I suppose. Damn! I thought Frenchmen would have changed in this century.” He tried to keep the last sentence barely above a whisper.
“I figured you’d know just what Frenchmen were like in the your century.”
“What? How did…how did you know?” Ray couldn’t conceal his surprise.
“Don’t worry about it, Jennifer didn’t tell me anything about you. You’ve become a legend around these parts; word has passed rapidly through the underground.”
“Since you’re Jennifer’s friend, I suppose I can trust you,” Ray lied. “We have to go now.”
“Goodbye, François. With any luck, I’ll see you next week,” said Jennifer with a sly wink.
Jennifer and Ray then began walking toward the front entrance. François shouted, “Au revoir, Madame Grant, and you, too,
Monsieur Perkins!”
The restaurant’s proprietor shook his head and said quietly to himself, “Quite an odd couple.”
The so-called “odd” couple made their way out of the restaurant and returned to Jennifer’s vehicle.
They weren’t holding hands, at least not yet.
As he thought about taking her hand in his, Ray again saw the image of Zanther in his mind’s eye. Would she approve?
“Oh, don’t worry about me, my alien friend. Go right ahead,” said that same, strange, musical voice inside his mind.
Ray nearly fell down in shock. Jennifer wondered what was going on, though she didn’t say anything, figuring he had tripped on something.
As they neared Jennifer’s sleek black hovercar, Ray noticed how it almost shone like a diamond in the moonlight. It looked even prettier than it had before.
So did Jennifer.
He got into the front seat, and Jennifer sat down next to him. The seat belts wrapped around their shoulders and waists. Within a matter of seconds, the hovercar gently rose into the air, and after a short delay, it shot off in a burst of speed.
After traveling through the city for a few minutes and gazing at the wonderful sights, Ray became tired simply looking at pretty architecture.
“This is getting boring. Can we go somewhere else?” he asked.
“Sure. Where do you want to go?”
“Where can this thing take us? Can it travel through space?”
“It can, but you have to turn on the life-support systems and activate the gravity fields before you’re spaceborne; it won’t leave the atmosphere otherwise. It’s really fun. You could travel to Mars or Europa or anywhere in this star system. The engines aren’t powerful enough for light—er, hyperspace!”
“I don’t think I’m ready for space travel yet,” Ray said quickly.
“Oh, come on, you’ll love it!” argued Jennifer.
“Thanks, but no thanks.” Ray protested.
“Okay, but you’re missing out on a lot of fun. Besides, you are going to have to travel in space soon enough.”
“Maybe so, but I’d rather remain Earthbound for a while longer.”
“Okay. But since you said no to that option, I do have another choice to offer you.”
“Where’s that?”
“Atlanta.”
“Sure, I’d love to see how my old second home has changed from when I knew it.”
Without another word, Jennifer gave him a strange, almost twisted, seductive smile, pressed a red button on her side of the car and said, “Take us to Atlanta, U.S.A., Route 23-A.”
“One moment, please,” said a soft robotic voice in reply.
Suddenly the car sped forth with another burst of acceleration, lifted to a much higher altitude, and whizzed off into the night, toward the second largest city in the twenty-third century former United States of America.
As Jennifer’s hovercar flew on through the night to the southeastern United States, light-years away in space, the pace of reconnaissance increased.
* * *
The Rockoid ships were still trailed by the half dozen Alliance scout ships, which maintained a respectable distance, attempting to show no action that would betray a threatening posture. Alliance command received moment-by-moment accounts of the progress of the strange visitors.
Attempts to communicate with the newcomers proved unsuccessful, as were efforts to decode their radio transmissions. The Alliance forces waited and watched, crews hoping against hope they would not be called to battle.
In the command module of the huge mother ship, Zanther knew she had to accept the consensus of her defense ministry. She gave the order for survey
ships to scour the planets and moons in their vicinity to check for mineral deposits and bring back ore samples.
Once the mining ships were dispatched, the super cruisers continued their mission, but maintained radio silence. They communicated via telepathy, their accustomed means of private communication, beamed directly to the minister of defense for relaying military orders. Zanther received regular updates about the mission’s progress. She nodded her head in acceptance a few times, but kept silent otherwise, lost in thought, her demeanor dour; her doubts about the whole war effort wouldn’t go away.
Her fleet had discovered the presence of the small Alliance ships pacing them, transmitting sonar signals clearly designed to determine the extent of the Rockoid defense system. But Rockoid weaponry remained well hidden; their slow pace designed to convey the illusion the visit had a peaceful purpose. Although they had been hailed by the Alliance communication center and by the small scout ships, they maintained absolute radio silence and only communicated with other ships via secured channels or mental telepathy.
* * *
Barely an hour after the trip began, Ray and Jennifer reached Atlanta.
As they got out of the car, he asked, “What do we do now? It’s getting kinda late. Maybe we should look for a place to stay for the night.” At the same time, Ray had an ill-concealed leer on his face. Perhaps the implication behind his statement was a little too abrupt.
Jennifer returned the smile for just a second, and put her shapely hand on his shoulder. He felt a bit startled at the sudden touch, since it felt so soft and pleasant. His feelings of nervousness began to subside, though. His heart pounded. What would Zanther think? Ray mused.
“Stop asking me, Captain Perkins—that is your name, is it not?”
The manifestation of that strange musical voice stunned Ray once more; by now he had identified it as belonging to Zanther. This time he chose to ignore her.
“My uncle owns an apartment building here in Atlanta, and and one of the units is for my use when I come to visit. Wanna see it?”
Attack of the Rockoids Page 14