Maverick

by Cheryl Brooks

  Dartula shook her head. “Wouldn’t suit you as well. The darker hair and green eyes are more mysterious, which is exactly the way an empath should look.”

  “Or a witch. I come by that honestly too.”

  A loud chorus of chatters from the Guardians heralded Keplok’s approach. “I have discovered a fruit that is very much like shrepple,” he announced, holding up a peach.

  “We call that a peach,” Althea said. “And you make cake with that?”

  The widening of his eyes was downright comical. “Of course. What else would you make with them?”

  “I usually make jam or a pie with them myself. Trust me, Kep, you haven’t lived until you’ve tasted my peach pie.”

  “And you haven’t lived until you’ve tasted my shrepple cake.” His deadpan delivery nearly caught her napping.

  “You’re kidding me, right?”

  He sighed. “Of course I am. Dartula is the one who makes the shrepple cake.” His dreamy expression as he looked at his mate seemed as out of character as his earlier bafflement.

  Althea studied him for a moment. “You know something, Kep? I think we’d have to take you a lot farther than Rhylos before we get you figured out.”

  Sliding a possessive arm around his waist, Dartula tugged him closer. “I had to go all the way to Palorka to figure him out, but it was worth it.” Her shining eyes told the story far better than any words could have done.

  “He’s a tough nut to crack, all right.” Althea nodded toward the door. “What do you say we sisters head for the galley and bake a cake?” The mere thought of working alongside Dartula warmed her heart. Althea and her mother had been very close, but their relationship wasn’t quite the same as the camaraderie between siblings.

  “Sounds fabulous.” Relinquishing her hold on Keplok, Dartula took the peach from his hand. “You keep the kids and the monkeys company. Althea and I have some catching up to do.”

  * * *

  Larry still didn’t think their food supplies would last until they reached Rhylos. What with nearly a hundred monkeys and a dozen growing children, they’d be lucky to make it to the nearest inhabited planet without some serious rationing. At the moment, however, rationing food was the very last thing he wanted to do. Althea was pregnant, and if he wasn’t mistaken, Dartula probably would be very soon. Then there were the Guardians, many of whom were female. For all he knew, their numbers might double or even triple before they made it home to Statzeel—yet another reason why he was pleased that he wouldn’t be taking them that far.

  “Yo, Brak. Better add in a side trip to Uraldeck and order more food before we get there. I doubt they’ll have any burgers, but we should be able to get plenty of fresh fruits and vegetables.” With the denizens of Uraldeck being entirely vegetarian, asking for meat would probably get them blasted out of orbit.

  “Will do, Captain.”

  Larry shouldn’t have been surprised at the cheerful note in Brak’s voice—his own voice probably carried the same inflection—but it still sounded odd. “Where’s Glyssia?”

  “I believe she is with the children. She acted as a parent figure during their captivity. She feels responsible for them.”

  “They were lucky to have her. Did she ever say if any of the kids had been sold before we got there?”

  He waved his antennae. “They hadn’t lost any of their number. Apparently, this was a new marketing scheme, and none of the children had gone on sale as yet.” A rustling of his wings conveyed his anxiety. “Hopefully our intervention will discourage any further attempts.”

  Larry sighed. “We can’t stop every crime in the galaxy, but at least we’ve slowed down a couple of them. I sent a deep space com to Onca and Kim. They’ll be ready to take the kids off our hands when we get to Rhylos. Don’t know if they can restore them all to their families, but that’s the goal.”

  “What will happen if they don’t?”

  “Onca and Kim will provide a home for them until they’re fully grown. The care and education they’ll receive may even be an improvement over their original situations.” The Herpatronian boy’s circumstances, in particular. Larry couldn’t imagine why anyone would sell one of their own children simply because they differed from the norm. But then, Herpatronians tended to be rather callous and hateful even on a good day.

  “We have done quite well on this voyage,” Brak observed. “Didn’t earn any credits, however. We may have to venture into the casino district to recoup our losses.”

  Larry snorted. “Come on, Brak. When did anyone ever recoup their losses on Rhylos?” If anything, they would lose any assets they had.

  “There is always my skill at solitaire to be considered.” He sounded a bit huffy.

  “Yeah, right. As long as you’re competing against real rookies instead of ringers. Plenty of con men on Rhylos, you know.”

  Larry had never seen Brak smile and doubted that Scorillian mandibles were even capable of that expression. However, if the curl of his antennae—which was similar to the curl of the tufts on the top of the Grinch’s head when he got that wonderful, awful idea to steal Christmas from the Whos down in Whoville—was any indication, his grin was quite evil indeed.

  “I am well aware of that fact,” he said. “On this particular visit, I believe I shall be one of the, uh, ringers.”

  Larry arched a brow. “Trying to impress Glyssia?”

  “Perhaps. There is also our family’s future to be considered.”

  “You mean now that you’ve found a mate, you won’t be my navigator anymore?”

  “I wouldn’t have thought you would want a Scorillian family on your ship.”

  “Why the devil wouldn’t I want that?” Larry snapped. “We’re going to have a family of Zetithians onboard pretty soon, so I don’t see that it matters.”

  “Althea is with child?” The pitch of Brak’s voice rose with each word, ending on a piercing screech.

  “She sure is,” Larry replied with no small measure of pride. “Although you’d better make that ‘with children’ in this case. You know how we Zetithians always seem to have triplets.”

  “Congratulations—I think,” Brak said, somehow managing to regain his composure as quickly as he’d lost it. “Triplets seem like an extraordinary amount of trouble. I am thankful that Scorillians only give birth to one offspring at a time.”

  “Give birth? Really? I thought insects laid eggs.”

  Brak swiveled both eyestalks to give Larry one of the most condescending looks he’d ever received from his shipmate. “Of course Glyssia will lay an egg. I was merely using ‘give birth’ as a figure of speech. You needn’t be quite so literal.”

  “So she’s going to lay an egg, is she? Does this mean you’re not in love with me anymore?”

  “Althea was wrong to tell you that. But yes, I am over you.”

  “My, that was quick,” Larry muttered. In a louder voice, he said, “It’s the lavender wings, isn’t it? My curly black hair and pointed ears can’t compare with that.”

  “Very true,” Brak said with a hint of sadness. “I am sorry if it breaks your heart, but I don’t love you anymore.”

  Larry chuckled. “No worries, Brak. We’ll always have Paris.”

  “Paris?” he echoed. “When have we ever been to Paris?”

  “Figure of speech,” Larry replied. With a wink, he added, “You needn’t be quite so literal.”

  The chattering of Brak’s mandibles was the closest thing to laughter he was able to produce. “I see things are back to normal between us.”

  “Yeah. I believe they are.”

  Thank Hektat for that!

  Chapter 30

  Three weeks and eighteen Guardian births later, the Stooge finally landed on Rhylos with a stasis unit entirely devoid of burgers of any flavor or size. As a result, Brak’s joy in having found true love was somewhat di
minished by the lack of his favorite foods.

  “Ah, Damenk!” He rubbed his pincers together in anticipation. “I can already smell the sausages.”

  The denizens of Rhylos had no qualms about relieving any visitors to their world of their ready cash the moment they disembarked. To that end, the spaceport landing field was surrounded by vendors selling everything any new arrivals could possibly need or want. To leave the area without being coerced into buying something was extremely rare. Larry had once purchased a rather gaudy dress for his mother before remembering that the last time Jack had worn a dress, she’d been posing as a slave girl on Statzeel.

  However, it was Althea’s reaction to the planet’s pain that concerned Larry the most. Celeste’s possible disappointment and Brak’s appetite were tied for a distant second.

  “Keep your shirt on,” he muttered as he began the shutdown sequence.

  He’d tried to come up with a way to tell Celeste that wouldn’t hurt her feelings any more than absolutely necessary, and he still wasn’t convinced he’d hit on the right approach. He thought perhaps explaining that he and Althea had been fated to be together from birth would make breaking up less painful. However ridiculous that story might sound, it also happened to be true. He and Al probably had been destined for each other. He just wished he’d realized it before involving another woman.

  Sending Celeste a deep space com would’ve been the simplest solution. However, it was also the coward’s way out. He would tell her to her face, and he would do it soon. It was the where and what that had him stumped.

  The very last thing he’d expected was for her to be a member of the welcoming party.

  “Holy Hektat,” Althea whispered as Larry lowered the gangplank. “The whole fam damily is here.”

  She wasn’t exaggerating. Both of their respective parents awaited them, along with several of their brothers, plus Onca and Kim. Even more surprising was the presence of Celeste.

  “I take it the blond is Celeste?”

  “Yeah. I thought we might delay that meeting for a bit. Should’ve known Mom would beat us here, and knowing her, she’s probably already spilled the beans.” While this development took some of the pressure off Larry, he also believed the bad news would’ve been better coming from him.

  Except Celeste didn’t appear to be upset. Not in the slightest. Nor was she dashing up the gangplank to hug him. In fact, she was hanging all over Rashe, Onca’s best friend and the sole attraction of the Pow Wow brothel.

  “I don’t believe it,” Althea said with a trace of amazement. “Rashe is actually wearing clothes.”

  “I think the last time I saw him fully dressed was at Onca and Kim’s wedding.” Larry had seen Rashe in the altogether enough times to know that the tip of the sword tattooed on his torso went from his pectorals all the way down to the head of his dick, which made an interesting talking point when he was soliciting clients. Today, however, none of the sword was visible, nor was he wearing his buckskins and moccasins. Except for the long black hair and coppery skin that spoke of his Comanche heritage, dressed in gray trousers and a white tunic, he looked like any other Terran resident of Rhylos.

  “This should be interesting,” Brak said as he caught up with them. With his head at Larry’s shoulder and the rest of his body strung out behind him, he looked like a floating, disembodied head. “I knew there was a reason I didn’t like her. She’s nothing but a two-timing piece of—”

  “Now, now. Let’s not be nasty,” Larry cautioned. “If anyone’s in the wrong here, it’s me.”

  “I dunno,” Althea said. “Those two look pretty chummy.”

  “Congratulations!” Celeste called out when they were halfway down the gangplank. “Your mother already told us the good news.”

  Al turned toward him. “Is this really going to be that easy? Seriously?”

  Larry shrugged. “Hey, you’re the empath. You tell me.”

  If anything, she looked more puzzled than he was. “I’m not picking up any negativity whatsoever. She is genuinely happy for us.”

  “Kinda seems that way, doesn’t it?”

  By this time, they’d reached the bottom of the gangplank, and the time for private conversations had passed. The kids streamed by them, closely followed by Dartula and Keplok.

  “We’ll never be able to keep them together.” Dartula sounded a little worried, but she also seemed relieved to be turning over custody of twelve increasingly rowdy youngsters.

  Larry, however, was still staring at Rashe and Celeste with absolute disbelief. He’d been so worried about hurting her feelings. To discover that she wasn’t the least bit upset had him utterly bewildered. After all, she’d claimed to love him. He hadn’t been gone that long.

  After a plethora of hugs and greetings from family and friends, he found himself face-to-face with Celeste and Rashe—who had to be in his late forties, perhaps even his early fifties. Granted, he didn’t look that old, but still…

  Larry couldn’t help it. The first words out of his mouth were, “Isn’t she a little young for you?”

  “Hey, you ditched her for Althea,” Rashe retorted. “Why make such a big deal about it? Besides, she isn’t as young as you might think she is, dude. She’s actually closer to my age.”

  “No way,” Larry protested. “Terrans don’t age that slowly.”

  “They do when their father is a Tianodahl.” He gave Celeste a one-armed hug and a noisy smooch on the cheek. “The purebreds live for roughly two hundred years. We figure a crossbreed is good for at least a hundred and twenty or so. She’ll probably outlive me, but when you’re in love, age doesn’t matter.”

  Larry stared at her, aghast. “You’re half Tianodahl?” He couldn’t help being annoyed that she hadn’t seen fit to disclose such a pertinent tidbit earlier in their relationship, although it probably explained why her scent had been so bewildering. “You never told me that!”

  “You never asked.” With her attention once again directed toward Rashe, Celeste combed her fingers through his long, shining hair before returning his peck on the cheek with a kiss on the neck that was anything but chaste.

  “I had to retire from the brothel once we got together.” Rashe gave Celeste another affectionate hug. “I’m working at the orphanage now. Want us to take that herd of kids off your hands?”

  Still stunned by the rapid turn of events, all Larry could manage to say was, “Yeah. Sure. I guess so. Have fun feeding them.”

  “Well, I guess that’s that,” Brak said as the children set off with the two couples as though they’d been promised a rare treat.

  “Spooky,” Dartula said. “The kids are following them the way the Guardians follow Keplok.”

  Keeping the monkeys from leaving the ship had required Keplok’s solemn promise that he would return as soon as he’d found a ship that would take them to Statzeel. Considering that word had gone out ahead of them regarding their needs, Larry was a little surprised they hadn’t been met by a dozen entrepreneurial ship owners vying for the job, even though they would be taking over a hundred monkeys on an extended journey through space.

  As usual, Althea was the voice of reason. “We have been talking up the orphanage thing ever since we found those kids. It isn’t as if they weren’t prepared.”

  “True. Still kind of freaky, though.” Like the way Celeste had behaved, although Larry couldn’t bring himself to mention it.

  Jack clapped Larry on the shoulder. “I knew it would happen,” his mother said smugly. “Why the hell do you think I sent you after Althea in the first place? I knew you two belonged together. I had to stop you from hooking up with Celeste before it was too late. We don’t want another dead Zetithian on our hands.”

  Althea frowned. “Which dead Zetithian are you talking about?”

  “Okay, so it wasn’t a Zetithian,” Jack admitted. “But that could’ve happened. Remembe
r that crazy woman who killed the Palace’s fluffer to get close to Jerden? If Celeste had ever gotten a taste of Larry, she’d probably kill you for trying to take him from her.”

  “Scary stuff,” Larry said, which was why he’d never been intimate with Celeste or any other woman. Until Althea…

  “Yeah, well, you knew I wouldn’t let that happen, bucko. I’m the—”

  Larry put up a hand. “I know, Mom. You’re the Zetithian Protection Agency personified.”

  “Damn straight,” Jack said with a firm nod. “If I can’t protect my own sons, I’d have to turn in my badge.”

  Althea chuckled. “Come on now, Jack. Everyone knows you and Mom ‘don’t need no stinkin’ badges.’”

  Jack sighed. “God, I love that line. Just wish I could remember which movie it came from.”

  “Originally? The Treasure of the Sierra Madre, although there have been a number of versions since then.” Althea grinned. There’d been a time when Jack would’ve supplied the answer herself. “Your memory for trivia is slipping.”

  “Yeah, I know. Can’t help it if I keep getting older. Time marches on, you know.”

  Her age certainly didn’t show. She was still tall and athletic looking without so much as a wrinkle or a single gray hair to suggest she was any older than her sons. Althea’s mother hadn’t aged much, either. Apparently marrying a Zetithian man was the Terran equivalent of finding the fountain of youth. There was a theory that involved stem cells from bearing a set or two of triplets, but it was pretty technical. Larry had always taken it on faith that, barring accident or illness, anyone he married would live as long as he did. Since he and Althea had similar breeding, their life expectancy should be fairly equal.

  Comforting thought.

  Jack directed her gaze toward the Duo, who were each engaged in conversation with their respective fathers. “So that’s what the Zetithian-Statzeelian crossbreeds look like. Can’t say they’re an improvement on the original. That extra finger is a nice touch, but I never did like those flat noses. Although their males are such pompous pricks, I’m guessing flat noses were a fortunate mutation.”