Pretty Pink Planet

by Joy Smith

Pretty Pink Planet

  By

  Joy V. Smith

  Copyright 1996 Joy V. Smith

  Cover design by Joy V. Smith

  Photo courtesy of NOAA

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  PRETTY PINK PLANET

  by Joy V. Smith

  Lori slipped out the side service entrance of The Pink Pearl while the rest of her tour group climbed cheerfully into two magenta mini-buses and floated gently off across the pink and lavendar landscape. Occasionally shifting her heavy shoulder bag, she hid behind the mauve dumpster in back of the hotel until the buses disappeared into the distance and a lovely purple haze caused by the pollen generated by the thousands of flowers that covered the island.

  The Pink Pearl was on one of the larger islands that dotted Prism, a planet that was mostly lime green water with pink islands, pink sandy beaches, and no insects or wildlife. Perfect for Those Seeking Tranquillity, the brochure had said. Lori, however, as usual, was not looking for tranquillity. She headed toward the large sheds that lay between her and the beach. She'd look into them first, although she didn't expect to find any Webbies there. She'd check out the rocky lagoon after that. According to the brochure, it was unique to the planet and to be avoided unless accompanied by a guide.

  At the bottom of the sloping full-of-pink-flowers garden was the first of the five sheds. It was full of pink flowering seedlings. Leaving the soft peach shed, she went on to the next one, which was painted coral. The one after that was salmon. Walking through blushing grass and violet flowers and looking at the next shed (lilac), she wondered if it were something in the soil. Everything was so relentlessly pink.

  Standing beside the last shed (watermelon?), where she'd found nothing more suspicious than a broken hoe, she considered the stretch of sand between her and the rocks that encircled the lagoon. With her pink jump suit, her matching pink boots, and the cap that fitted snugly over her short, black hair, she blended in nicely; even her belt buckle--actually the handle of her knife--was pink. But she remembered the cold watchfulness of the man at the desk when she'd checked in the night before.

  "Pretty as a peach," the desk clerk had said to her, looming over the counter that looked as if it had been coated with raspberry ice nail polish, and smiling as he handed her the room key.

  "Thank you," she'd replied, smiling back automatically before she realized it wasn't a compliment and his smile was frozen into place. "That's your room," he'd continued with just a hint of a sneer, as if he knew she was used to flattery and he'd trapped her, "Pretty as a peach." Other rooms, she'd learned, included Peachy Keen and Fresh Strawberries. The lounge was Peaches 'n Cream.

  "How clever," she'd gushed and kept her smile warm and enthusiastic.

  She shook off the memory of the big man in the mulberry suit and headed for the lagoon. She felt safer when she reached the rocks; beyond them in the smooth green water she caught a glimpse of blue. Webbies! Rounding a towering rosy-red rock she found herself facing two of them. They were naked; clothing lay scattered here and there among the rocks. Behind them in the water, other blue shapes vanished. Lori concentrated on the pair she'd trapped. They stood absolutely still and stared at her. She approached them carefully.

  "I'm a friend," she told them softly, not smiling. No telling what that might mean to them. They watched her warily. She wasn't surprised. From what Commander Chronberg had told her, they had been harried and killed; and that was before Paxson, the last agent, had disappeared.

  Now she was close enough to do what she had to; she usually managed to pull it off without anyone getting hurt. She slowly slipped off the shoulder bag, braced herself, then leaped forward and threw the strap around the big Webbie's head.

  The sudden panicky and unintelligible sounds changed abruptly to words. "Run. Get away. Escape." The words stopped as quickly as they'd begun. The blue face with its pale green eyes looked at her in surprise.

  "I'm a friend," Lori repeated. "I am here to talk with you. I need to learn about your people and," she continued more harshly than she'd intended, "to learn about one of my people called Paxson."

  The blue humanoid squatted in the shadow of the rock, looking around uneasily. The silver blue webbing that hung slackly between his arms and body firmed slightly. Lori noticed that there was also webbing between the fingers and the toes. The bodies were completely hairless. The smaller Webbie clung to its companion and apparently questioned it. Its blue eyes were puzzled.

  Lori put out her hand slowly and took the small Webbies' hand, placing it on the translator. "This is a mechanical device that helps us understand each other," she said. "I have come to help you. You must tell me what has happened since the first humans--like me--came here. My name is Lori. I'm here to investigate the wrong that has been done to you. Please tell me your names." She waited expectantly.

  "I am Rangor," the big Webbie told her. "She is Starff."

  The small Webbie showed her teeth slightly and repeated, "Starff."

  Lori had suspected the big one was the male and the small one the female even before the translator kicked in. No clothes usually made that easier. "Tell me what happened," she said again.

  "We welcomed them," said Rangor, "but they attacked us; and they tried to keep us from the pool of our ancestors. One of the old ones was killed then. They hurt us if they see us, but if we hide, they leave us alone."

  Avoidance conditioning, Lori thought, but they still come to the lagoon. That was significant. She waited for him to continue. When he didn't, she asked, "What about a man called Paxson. He came to talk to you; he meant you no harm."

  "There was one who came later. He did try to get close to us, but we didn't let him." He stopped.

  "Did you hurt him?" she asked hesitantly.

  "No. I think they did though. They took him away, and I never saw him again." Rangor stood up.

  Lori got up from where she was sitting and brushed off pink sand. "What about you, Starff?" she asked.

  The small Webbie looked at her blankly. "Did you see him again or see what happened to him?" Lori said.

  Starff's webbing rippled, but she said nothing. Lori turned to Rangor. "Do you know if she saw him?"

  "She says no," he said.

  So, probably the rippling of the webbing meant no. She wondered if Starff's reticence was a gender or a culture thing. A red splash of color caught her eye. A large, long-legged lobster-like creature had emerged from the water and was watching intently. It was as bright a red as the Webbies were bright blue. The life-forms here certainly didn't try to blend in. No predators? she wondered. Then the lobster darted from where it had been standing at the edge of the water, leaving a little wet spot, and jumped upon the big Webbie, clung to the translator and chittered.

  "Can you understand me?" the lobster asked excitedly. "At last an alien intelligence, and it talks to the primaries. Talk to me. Talk to me!"

  It stopped finally, probably for breath, Lori figured. "I am Lori, of SOESFOL," she said quickly. "I am here to see if there are intelligent beings on this planet, and I am very pleased to see," she said firmly, "that there are two different types. Tell me about yourself."

  "I am Grefl; I am a speaker for the Sea People.
I welcome you to our world. You must visit us, and we shall exchange wisdoms."

  "That sounds like a good thing to do," Lori told him, pleased. "I thank you for your generous welcome."

  "Danger. Danger comes." Starff interrupted them, grabbing at Rangor's arm with both hands and trying to pull him away. But it was already too late. Lori kept both hands in sight of the man in a mulberry-colored suit who approached them swiftly over the sand, his gun out and pointed definitely towards her.

  "Hello there, Peaches. I see you've found some friends." She hadn't trusted his toothy smile or his insinuating tone at the desk. Now she knew what his real job was.

  His eyes weren't smiling, and his big hands held the gun competently, even lovingly. It was a pretty safe bet that Paxson was dead. Considering her options, she noticed that Grefl had disappeared. Good, she thought. He'd gone back into the water. No matter what happened, he was safe, and there'd be a witness.

  Lori moved tentatively backwards toward the sea. She'd have a better chance with the hotel's hitman there, especially if the Webbies helped. She suspected, however, that they would probably run away, with the translator. Still, after all, it was her job to protect them.

  "Where do you think you're going, Peaches?" he demanded sharply. She jumped back, widened her eyes, and