Hi! Hope everyone had a wonderful holiday and a happy holiday season!
Enjoy! Anna
Chapter 9
Beka, replete and drowsy in the aftermath of a few hours of getting cozy with Connor, gazed out the window of the spaceport's largest hotel, the Parador. She clutched the cotton sheet tightly around her, listening as the heavy rain steadily lightened until it was a shimmering misty veil over the city and mountains. She opened the sliding glass door leading to the balcony and stepped out. The howling wind had died suddenly two hours before, leaving a pleasant whispering breeze. She shivered as the lightly misting rain kissed her bare skin. Normally she abhorred weather, particularly extreme weather like rain, snow, heat or cold. But this mist was tolerable, pleasant even.
Maybe it's the man, she thought.
She smiled wistfully at the low buildings of town spread out in glistening, twinkling lights below her. Chimneys allowed curls of pungent woodsmoke to curl into the mist. The Parador stood on the edge of the spaceport. The balcony was almost directly above the wall that cordoned off the spaceport from the town. After tying the sheet under her arm, she rested her forearms on the dripping railing. It was cold, smooth and solid against her skin, reminding her of the Maru.
"It's beautiful," said Connor, padding up behind her in bare feet.
She started and turned quickly, giving him an embarrassed smile as he lightly rested his hands on her bare waist. She shivered, his touch sending rivulets of fire coursing through her body. He grinned and she felt her stomach quiver. He was quite a handsome man. Laughing nervously, she slipped her arms around his waist, pulling him close. He kissed her softly. Relaxed, their arms wrapped around each other, they turned toward the view before them.
As far as the mist would allow them to see were flickering golden lights. Only the pounding of Beka's heartbeat broke the gentle hiss of the rain hitting the ground. "Beautiful," she murmured, "like stars."
He tightened his arm around her waist briefly. The breeze ruffled his black hair. "You miss the stars, don't you?"
She nodded, shooting him an almost apologetic look. "It's my home. I was born in space. Lived all my life in space. I wasn't created to live on a planet."
"Too bad," he said wistfully.
She gave him a sideways look. "Why? You planning to homestead here?"
He grinned, ducked his head bashfully. "I don't know. The place has a quaint charm. Horses and buggies. Cobblestone streets and handmade goods. It's like being back in ancient England or something. All we need are some howling wolves on the moors or the Hound of the Baskervilles and we'll be in an ole holo-vid. The people are nice if you get to know them."
She smiled skeptically. "Ancient England, huh? And where's that?"
He studied her face in surprise. "Earth." He laughed and hugged her tightly. "Forgive me. Don't know why I always assume everyone has heard of Earth."
"I've heard of it. Been there even. My Engineer is from there. Sounds like Hell with the Magog and the Nietzscheans."
He shrugged. "Wasn't always that way. And those two bunches of demons spread their Hell over most of the three galaxies," he all but growled.
She reached out and stroked his cheek. "Thank God the Magog and Nietzscheans have left most of the worlds they invaded and ruined."
"Swept through like locusts," he said bitterly. "Things like this go in cycles. There's always someone else ready to oppress the innocents."
She turned back to the town, emotions roiling at the thought of a new invader. They stood in silence until the first fingers of dawn crept over the mountains on the other side of the valley and spread out in talons of orange and pink. She nestled back into his arms. Calm emanated from him and soaked through her skin. Eventually, fear of the future faded and her eyelids drooped half-closed in contentment. The aroma of roasting meat and baking bread wafted up to them on the cool breeze. Her stomach growled.
He chuckled. "We'd better have them send up some food."
"Sounds yummy."
"Won't be as good as what you smell down there, though. The spaceport only buys a limited amount of local meat and produce. Local laws. The government doesn't want many of us 'undesirable aliens' to get used to the place."
"They don't want us to stay so they won't give us food?"
He tossed her his white linen pirate shirt and sat on the edge of the bed to call room service. "Give you all you want if you go down there." He took the phone from his ear. "We could go down there to eat, if you'd like. It'll be another two hours before the gate opens, though."
She smiled broadly, tugging the expansive shirt over her head quickly. "Can't wait." She crawled across the bed to him, waggling her eyebrows. "We don't want to be gone that long anyway."
He grinned and kissed her hard on the lips. When they broke apart he dialed room service and ordered quickly.
Midway through their meal, Beka waved her fork over the mass of food. "So, what do you do that you could afford all of this? Room service is notoriously expensive."
He chewed his steak and swallowed it. "I'm temporary Liaison to the Government of Dachshund."
Her eyebrows flew up in surprise. "You negotiate with the planetary government? Impressive."
He shrugged. "For now. I don't normally stay in one place too long. But, this is a fascinating planet. They have a lot of secrets that don't get out."
"But they told you?" she said past a spoonful of cheesy eggs.
"No. But I'm not stupid. I know people. I know how things work. I've been around. In ways, this whole planet is very similar to ancient Earth, in others it's as alien as anything I've ever seen. I used to work a Slipstream freighter that went everywhere."
"Um, I own a Slipstream ship that goes everywhere so I know what you mean. Must be a nice cushy job."
He chuckled, sipping his strong sweet local coffee. "Not usually. The locals are fairly easygoing, but they have strict rules. Most of the problems come from off-worlders going into town and acting stupid. It's the off-worlders who give me grief. Anyway, I'm here, for now. I may move on again. I may not. The official Liaison Officer should return from his...vacation in a couple of months. Then I'll be out of a job."
"Vacation?" she questioned.
He glanced at her and saw a knowing twinkle in her eye. He shrugged. "There's speculation that he abandoned the position. Couldn't handle the locals anymore. They found his keys in his room, cold coffee in a cup on the table with his uneaten breakfast. No trace of him. So, no one knows what happened. We only know he wasn't happy, or so they tell me. I never met the man."
As rays of dawn sunlight slanted through the window and painted the table, the glasses gleamed with brilliant golden highlights. Savoring each bite, they finished their breakfast. He tossed his napkin down onto the table and watched her, satiated. She downed the last of her local coffee, noting how rich the nutty sweet taste was. Their eyes met across the empty plates, cups and bowls.
"I have several hours until rendezvous," she challenged, waggling her eyebrows.
"We'd best not waste them," he returned, standing and extending his hand a sexy grin on his face.
She took it and allowed him to guide her back to the rumpled bed. The roar of starship engines drowned out the sounds of early morning birds outside as the overnight curfew ended.
~~
Nightmares stalked Trance. Harper's screams as he was torn apart by ferocious feral unseen dream-beasts left her sweating. She awoke gasping, twisted up in her thin sheet. Kicking at it in a panic, she clawed at the air to fend off the dream attacker. Suddenly, coming fully awake, she whimpered, tears coursing down her cheeks and mingling with a fine sheen of sweat. In her dream, he was dead. He was torn to bits before her helpless eyes.
"Trance?" Rommie said softly, perched on the edge of her bed, legs crossed gracefully. The plum colored girl started.
"Rommie?" she sobbed.
The avatar stroked clumps of sweat soaked hair back from her forehead, smiling maternally. "I tried to wake you. You were too deep in the nightmare."
Trance nodded. "It was horrible," her whisper was barely audible. In a rush, she leaned up and hugged the avatar around the waist.
Uncertain what to do, Rommie patted the girl's back, rubbing small circles in an attempt to offer comfort. When Trance continued to sob she wrapped her arms around the girl and held her as she had seen some of her crew do in the past. It helped. Soon, Trance's sobs tapered off and she pushed away, wiping her eyes.
"Sorry," Trance said, "I don't normally let dreams affect me so much."
"I understand. You have strong feelings for Harper."
"Is it that obvious?" Trance asked, alarmed.
Rommie smiled. "No. I can tell because I can monitor things like your pulse and respiration, and other bodily systems, though most of your systems are an enigma. I can still detect tiny changes in body language that most humans can't see. And, you're wearing his necklace."
The girl's eyes widened. "Oh."
"Don't worry. I'm not spying on you. I monitor the entire crew to ensure they're at peak efficiency. And I ensure there are no significant problems."
"But, how do you know if something's wrong? I mean, you aren't human and haven't been in a humanoid body for very long."
The avatar frowned. "My database of humanoid behavior is quite extensive. Perhaps, it's an extrapolation? I don't really know."
"Well, I need to find Seamus. I have the feeling something's wrong." She clutched the chain and medallion that were his.
"I agree." Rommie's eyes glazed momentarily as she checked her internal chronometer. "The gate should open in fifteen minutes, thirty-five seconds. I suggest you shower and change clothes. You'll feel better."
Trance nodded.
Twenty minutes later, showered and changed, both women marched through the bustling spaceport, elbowing their way through the crowds of workers toward the gate. The workers were easily distinguishable from the travelers and starship crews as they all wore the drab gray jumpsuit of spaceport personnel. The crews were dressed in a variety of dark or colorful clothing. The buildings around them buzzed to life, noises of ships starting and taking off made it difficult to talk. The stench of fuel, oil and scorched atmosphere filled the air.
They arrived at the gate to find a line of people filing through. Most were locals who had spent the night doing questionable things. Others were off- worlders in search of a decent breakfast.
Trance bounced in place impatiently. "What's taking so long? Who're all of these people?"
"The gate is only so big, Trance. And, Dylan told me they check ID's for the locals."
The girl frowned. "They need to hurry. Harper could be dead."
"He's not dead. Don't even think that. You'll just upset yourself," Rommie said.
The other woman nodded quickly. "Where should we begin looking? The bars? The hotels?"
"The hospital," Rommie realized, dread darkening her eyes.
They found the hospital quickly based upon directions the stubby gate guard gave them. It was an imposing five-story red stone building that looked more like a giant library than a hospital. The windows were small, dark and far between.
"Kinda scary, huh?" Trance said.
Rommie studied the building. "Mm, I see traces of ancient Greek architecture in the façade near the roof. There are ancient Persian influences, too. Perhaps, they had an outpost here years ago."
"I don't want to go in," Trance said, her wavering voice heavy with the threat of tears.
The avatar patted the other woman's back and gave her a sympathetic smile. "He's okay. It was an ambulance wagon, not the mortician."
"Oh, well that makes it all better," Trance responded sarcastically.
Rommie started up the huge stone steps. "We have to go."
After a long moment, the purple girl scampered up after her, eyeing the large wooden double doors with trepidation. They were cracked and weathered, cherry wood. The gold painted hinges squealed as Rommie opened them.
Inside was the polar opposite of the outside of the building. Brightly lit and painted in soft pastel colors, the lobby was a hive of activity. Happy music floated through the air and the smells of eggs, bacon and baking bread made Trance's stomach rumble. The two women stopped in shock.
"Are we in the same place?" Trance whispered. "Or did we walk through a slipstream rift into another building?"
"Apparently, it's what's on the inside that really counts here."
They sought out the receptionist's counter. The emerald colored countertop was festooned with brightly colored flowers.
Squaring her shoulders, Rommie marched up to the reception counter. The woman behind the desk looked up, surprise crossing her full face as her violet eyes took in the women before her. Trance gave her a quick, nervous smile.
"We're looking for a man, an off-world man," the avatar said.
The woman smiled professionally and thumbed through a thick notebook. "'e was brought in today?" she asked in a thick accent that dropped the h's.
"No, last evening. His name is Seamus Harper. Physical description: approximately 27, 5'7" tall, weight 140 pounds, blond hair, blue eyes. He has a data port on his neck and a tattoo on his left shoulder. And he tends to talk non-stop."
She flipped a few pages, flipped back. "Ah. 'Ere we have an entry. A couple was brought in by the police."
"A couple?" Trance inquired, surprise and hurt prancing across her face.
"Ah, yes. A young woman and a man with your description. Both were unconscious."
"Was he hurt badly?" Rommie asked.
"No. Not too badly. 'E did awaken."
She smiled. "What room is he in? We'd like to see him."
The woman checked the record. "Oh, 'e is not 'ere, I am afraid. 'E was taken by the local Magistrate."
"What?" Trance's eyes were huge with distress and confusion.
"Ah, I am afraid we do not 'ave that information. They do not tell us why when they take people away and we do not question."
Trance turned to Rommie. "What? What does she mean? What's a Magistrate?"
"A judge, Trance. He's been taken to see the judge of a police court." The avatar tucked her dark hair behind her ears and asked the receptionist, "What's the most direct route to the Magistrate's office?"
~~
Harper slowly banged his forehead against the bars of his cell ignoring the dank, damp smell of his surroundings and wishing this were all a dream. It was no dream.
"And what was up with those nurses," he muttered to himself for he was alone in his little Hellhole. "Leave it to you, Seamus, to get clobbered by some weirdo and stuck in the only hospital with nurses who look like your Grandma. And those flowers...."
Grimacing against the stabbing pain in his head, he stopped banging and waited for the dizziness and circling twinkling fairy lights to fade from his vision. "You coulda been at your own funeral. Frell, maybe they recycle them." He shivered, having a vision of his room full of flowers surrounding an old man's coffin, fragrance masking the aroma of death.
"Shut yer trap, Alien!" someone yelled from down the cellblock.
"Yeah," said another, "or we'll cut out yer larynx, Whiner."
"Like to see you try, Wimps!" he growled back at them.
Laughter echoed down the clammy dim hall between the cells. Harper realized they knew he couldn't back up his words while stuck behind bars. The stench of old alcohol and unwashed bodies wafted over him, caused by the movement of the men. His stomach heaved. His head spun.
"Let me outta here and I'll show you what's funny! Take you all on and kick your asses."
More laughter followed.
"Ah," said a third man, "I 'eard he was whipped by a slip of a girl!"
The laughter echoed eerily, making his head pound.
"Hey, she was already out. Some wacko with white eyes shanghaied me. Hit me from behind like a friggin' coward!" The men fell silent. Harper swore he heard some of them muttering under their breaths. "What? What? I can hear you. Not such a wimp now, am I? Huh? Huh? Am I?"
"Ah, hush, Lad," said the third man from the cell beside his. "Ya don't want that one to 'ear ya and come callin' again. You're lucky to still 'ave all your vitals."
"Oh, yeah? Well, he's lucky I had my back turned cause I'd have-"
"That's enough! He's a demon, Lad. A spirit. Not 'uman nor beast. Not many who see 'im live the night. Say your prayers and count your blessings to still be amongst the livin'."
Harper rolled his eyes. Superstition. The man he'd seen was definitely spooky, but he was a man made of flesh and blood. Harper ran his hands through his hair, washed and soaped by the nurses. A narrow bandage wrapped around his head, holding a thick gauze pad in place at the base of his skull. Briefly, he wondered if the little witch who had attacked him had made off with his package. He started to ask the man in the cell next to his about the girl. Was she supposed to be a demon, too? However, his train of thought derailed when the sound of keys rattling against a door lock echoed down the cellblock. He stiffened, gripping the bars until his fingers turned white. He pressed his cheek against them, anxious to see who was coming. A large guard lumbered into view, pausing before each cell in turn and checking to see if the prisoners were still there.
"Hey! Hey, Lame Brain," Harper snapped, "I have a question."
The guard slowly made his way over, ignoring him. Eventually, he stopped before the bars to Harper's cell, and flicked a finger against the diminutive man's forehead.
"Ow!" Harper clutched his forehead. Suddenly angry, he lunged for the bars.
The guard stuck a hand through and shoved him backward onto his backside.
Gritting his teeth, he took a deep breath and stood, crossing his arms over his chest in barely mustered calm. "What about my one phone call? I'm supposed to get a phone call to anyone I want."
The lumbering man's huge wide face split into a wet smile, exposing dirty teeth with a missing canine. The odor of his fishy breakfast bathed the small man's face like a tidal wave. Harper gagged.
Anger surged in Harper making his hands tremble and stomach quiver. He dug his fingernails into his biceps, willing himself not to plunge his arms between the bars and beat the crap out of the moron. "And what the Hell's so funny, Loser?"
Soft laughter rumbled deep in the man's throat. "We 'ave no phones, Alien. You can send a carrier pigeon, if you'd like."
Harper's mouth dropped open. What kind of planet had a modern seedy spaceport and no phones or electronic communications relays? The guard laughed again and continued on, still chuckling. The engineer pressed himself against the bars again. "Hey! Hey, wait! What about breakfast? I'm wasting away in here!"
The slam of the heavy door at the other end of the cellblock was his only answer.
"Crap," he muttered and stumbled over to fall onto his threadbare bunk, head spinning with pain. "Just great, Seamus," he whispered so softly no one else could hear, "blow your only chance to meet chicks, get a friggin' concussion and feel like crap, and lose your goody bag." He sighed deeply, envisioning the service android waiting patiently in his quarters onboard the Andromeda Ascendant. A smile turned up the corners of his mouth. "At least you still have your project. You won't be alone for long."
TBC in ch 10
Enjoy! Anna
Chapter 9
Beka, replete and drowsy in the aftermath of a few hours of getting cozy with Connor, gazed out the window of the spaceport's largest hotel, the Parador. She clutched the cotton sheet tightly around her, listening as the heavy rain steadily lightened until it was a shimmering misty veil over the city and mountains. She opened the sliding glass door leading to the balcony and stepped out. The howling wind had died suddenly two hours before, leaving a pleasant whispering breeze. She shivered as the lightly misting rain kissed her bare skin. Normally she abhorred weather, particularly extreme weather like rain, snow, heat or cold. But this mist was tolerable, pleasant even.
Maybe it's the man, she thought.
She smiled wistfully at the low buildings of town spread out in glistening, twinkling lights below her. Chimneys allowed curls of pungent woodsmoke to curl into the mist. The Parador stood on the edge of the spaceport. The balcony was almost directly above the wall that cordoned off the spaceport from the town. After tying the sheet under her arm, she rested her forearms on the dripping railing. It was cold, smooth and solid against her skin, reminding her of the Maru.
"It's beautiful," said Connor, padding up behind her in bare feet.
She started and turned quickly, giving him an embarrassed smile as he lightly rested his hands on her bare waist. She shivered, his touch sending rivulets of fire coursing through her body. He grinned and she felt her stomach quiver. He was quite a handsome man. Laughing nervously, she slipped her arms around his waist, pulling him close. He kissed her softly. Relaxed, their arms wrapped around each other, they turned toward the view before them.
As far as the mist would allow them to see were flickering golden lights. Only the pounding of Beka's heartbeat broke the gentle hiss of the rain hitting the ground. "Beautiful," she murmured, "like stars."
He tightened his arm around her waist briefly. The breeze ruffled his black hair. "You miss the stars, don't you?"
She nodded, shooting him an almost apologetic look. "It's my home. I was born in space. Lived all my life in space. I wasn't created to live on a planet."
"Too bad," he said wistfully.
She gave him a sideways look. "Why? You planning to homestead here?"
He grinned, ducked his head bashfully. "I don't know. The place has a quaint charm. Horses and buggies. Cobblestone streets and handmade goods. It's like being back in ancient England or something. All we need are some howling wolves on the moors or the Hound of the Baskervilles and we'll be in an ole holo-vid. The people are nice if you get to know them."
She smiled skeptically. "Ancient England, huh? And where's that?"
He studied her face in surprise. "Earth." He laughed and hugged her tightly. "Forgive me. Don't know why I always assume everyone has heard of Earth."
"I've heard of it. Been there even. My Engineer is from there. Sounds like Hell with the Magog and the Nietzscheans."
He shrugged. "Wasn't always that way. And those two bunches of demons spread their Hell over most of the three galaxies," he all but growled.
She reached out and stroked his cheek. "Thank God the Magog and Nietzscheans have left most of the worlds they invaded and ruined."
"Swept through like locusts," he said bitterly. "Things like this go in cycles. There's always someone else ready to oppress the innocents."
She turned back to the town, emotions roiling at the thought of a new invader. They stood in silence until the first fingers of dawn crept over the mountains on the other side of the valley and spread out in talons of orange and pink. She nestled back into his arms. Calm emanated from him and soaked through her skin. Eventually, fear of the future faded and her eyelids drooped half-closed in contentment. The aroma of roasting meat and baking bread wafted up to them on the cool breeze. Her stomach growled.
He chuckled. "We'd better have them send up some food."
"Sounds yummy."
"Won't be as good as what you smell down there, though. The spaceport only buys a limited amount of local meat and produce. Local laws. The government doesn't want many of us 'undesirable aliens' to get used to the place."
"They don't want us to stay so they won't give us food?"
He tossed her his white linen pirate shirt and sat on the edge of the bed to call room service. "Give you all you want if you go down there." He took the phone from his ear. "We could go down there to eat, if you'd like. It'll be another two hours before the gate opens, though."
She smiled broadly, tugging the expansive shirt over her head quickly. "Can't wait." She crawled across the bed to him, waggling her eyebrows. "We don't want to be gone that long anyway."
He grinned and kissed her hard on the lips. When they broke apart he dialed room service and ordered quickly.
Midway through their meal, Beka waved her fork over the mass of food. "So, what do you do that you could afford all of this? Room service is notoriously expensive."
He chewed his steak and swallowed it. "I'm temporary Liaison to the Government of Dachshund."
Her eyebrows flew up in surprise. "You negotiate with the planetary government? Impressive."
He shrugged. "For now. I don't normally stay in one place too long. But, this is a fascinating planet. They have a lot of secrets that don't get out."
"But they told you?" she said past a spoonful of cheesy eggs.
"No. But I'm not stupid. I know people. I know how things work. I've been around. In ways, this whole planet is very similar to ancient Earth, in others it's as alien as anything I've ever seen. I used to work a Slipstream freighter that went everywhere."
"Um, I own a Slipstream ship that goes everywhere so I know what you mean. Must be a nice cushy job."
He chuckled, sipping his strong sweet local coffee. "Not usually. The locals are fairly easygoing, but they have strict rules. Most of the problems come from off-worlders going into town and acting stupid. It's the off-worlders who give me grief. Anyway, I'm here, for now. I may move on again. I may not. The official Liaison Officer should return from his...vacation in a couple of months. Then I'll be out of a job."
"Vacation?" she questioned.
He glanced at her and saw a knowing twinkle in her eye. He shrugged. "There's speculation that he abandoned the position. Couldn't handle the locals anymore. They found his keys in his room, cold coffee in a cup on the table with his uneaten breakfast. No trace of him. So, no one knows what happened. We only know he wasn't happy, or so they tell me. I never met the man."
As rays of dawn sunlight slanted through the window and painted the table, the glasses gleamed with brilliant golden highlights. Savoring each bite, they finished their breakfast. He tossed his napkin down onto the table and watched her, satiated. She downed the last of her local coffee, noting how rich the nutty sweet taste was. Their eyes met across the empty plates, cups and bowls.
"I have several hours until rendezvous," she challenged, waggling her eyebrows.
"We'd best not waste them," he returned, standing and extending his hand a sexy grin on his face.
She took it and allowed him to guide her back to the rumpled bed. The roar of starship engines drowned out the sounds of early morning birds outside as the overnight curfew ended.
~~
Nightmares stalked Trance. Harper's screams as he was torn apart by ferocious feral unseen dream-beasts left her sweating. She awoke gasping, twisted up in her thin sheet. Kicking at it in a panic, she clawed at the air to fend off the dream attacker. Suddenly, coming fully awake, she whimpered, tears coursing down her cheeks and mingling with a fine sheen of sweat. In her dream, he was dead. He was torn to bits before her helpless eyes.
"Trance?" Rommie said softly, perched on the edge of her bed, legs crossed gracefully. The plum colored girl started.
"Rommie?" she sobbed.
The avatar stroked clumps of sweat soaked hair back from her forehead, smiling maternally. "I tried to wake you. You were too deep in the nightmare."
Trance nodded. "It was horrible," her whisper was barely audible. In a rush, she leaned up and hugged the avatar around the waist.
Uncertain what to do, Rommie patted the girl's back, rubbing small circles in an attempt to offer comfort. When Trance continued to sob she wrapped her arms around the girl and held her as she had seen some of her crew do in the past. It helped. Soon, Trance's sobs tapered off and she pushed away, wiping her eyes.
"Sorry," Trance said, "I don't normally let dreams affect me so much."
"I understand. You have strong feelings for Harper."
"Is it that obvious?" Trance asked, alarmed.
Rommie smiled. "No. I can tell because I can monitor things like your pulse and respiration, and other bodily systems, though most of your systems are an enigma. I can still detect tiny changes in body language that most humans can't see. And, you're wearing his necklace."
The girl's eyes widened. "Oh."
"Don't worry. I'm not spying on you. I monitor the entire crew to ensure they're at peak efficiency. And I ensure there are no significant problems."
"But, how do you know if something's wrong? I mean, you aren't human and haven't been in a humanoid body for very long."
The avatar frowned. "My database of humanoid behavior is quite extensive. Perhaps, it's an extrapolation? I don't really know."
"Well, I need to find Seamus. I have the feeling something's wrong." She clutched the chain and medallion that were his.
"I agree." Rommie's eyes glazed momentarily as she checked her internal chronometer. "The gate should open in fifteen minutes, thirty-five seconds. I suggest you shower and change clothes. You'll feel better."
Trance nodded.
Twenty minutes later, showered and changed, both women marched through the bustling spaceport, elbowing their way through the crowds of workers toward the gate. The workers were easily distinguishable from the travelers and starship crews as they all wore the drab gray jumpsuit of spaceport personnel. The crews were dressed in a variety of dark or colorful clothing. The buildings around them buzzed to life, noises of ships starting and taking off made it difficult to talk. The stench of fuel, oil and scorched atmosphere filled the air.
They arrived at the gate to find a line of people filing through. Most were locals who had spent the night doing questionable things. Others were off- worlders in search of a decent breakfast.
Trance bounced in place impatiently. "What's taking so long? Who're all of these people?"
"The gate is only so big, Trance. And, Dylan told me they check ID's for the locals."
The girl frowned. "They need to hurry. Harper could be dead."
"He's not dead. Don't even think that. You'll just upset yourself," Rommie said.
The other woman nodded quickly. "Where should we begin looking? The bars? The hotels?"
"The hospital," Rommie realized, dread darkening her eyes.
They found the hospital quickly based upon directions the stubby gate guard gave them. It was an imposing five-story red stone building that looked more like a giant library than a hospital. The windows were small, dark and far between.
"Kinda scary, huh?" Trance said.
Rommie studied the building. "Mm, I see traces of ancient Greek architecture in the façade near the roof. There are ancient Persian influences, too. Perhaps, they had an outpost here years ago."
"I don't want to go in," Trance said, her wavering voice heavy with the threat of tears.
The avatar patted the other woman's back and gave her a sympathetic smile. "He's okay. It was an ambulance wagon, not the mortician."
"Oh, well that makes it all better," Trance responded sarcastically.
Rommie started up the huge stone steps. "We have to go."
After a long moment, the purple girl scampered up after her, eyeing the large wooden double doors with trepidation. They were cracked and weathered, cherry wood. The gold painted hinges squealed as Rommie opened them.
Inside was the polar opposite of the outside of the building. Brightly lit and painted in soft pastel colors, the lobby was a hive of activity. Happy music floated through the air and the smells of eggs, bacon and baking bread made Trance's stomach rumble. The two women stopped in shock.
"Are we in the same place?" Trance whispered. "Or did we walk through a slipstream rift into another building?"
"Apparently, it's what's on the inside that really counts here."
They sought out the receptionist's counter. The emerald colored countertop was festooned with brightly colored flowers.
Squaring her shoulders, Rommie marched up to the reception counter. The woman behind the desk looked up, surprise crossing her full face as her violet eyes took in the women before her. Trance gave her a quick, nervous smile.
"We're looking for a man, an off-world man," the avatar said.
The woman smiled professionally and thumbed through a thick notebook. "'e was brought in today?" she asked in a thick accent that dropped the h's.
"No, last evening. His name is Seamus Harper. Physical description: approximately 27, 5'7" tall, weight 140 pounds, blond hair, blue eyes. He has a data port on his neck and a tattoo on his left shoulder. And he tends to talk non-stop."
She flipped a few pages, flipped back. "Ah. 'Ere we have an entry. A couple was brought in by the police."
"A couple?" Trance inquired, surprise and hurt prancing across her face.
"Ah, yes. A young woman and a man with your description. Both were unconscious."
"Was he hurt badly?" Rommie asked.
"No. Not too badly. 'E did awaken."
She smiled. "What room is he in? We'd like to see him."
The woman checked the record. "Oh, 'e is not 'ere, I am afraid. 'E was taken by the local Magistrate."
"What?" Trance's eyes were huge with distress and confusion.
"Ah, I am afraid we do not 'ave that information. They do not tell us why when they take people away and we do not question."
Trance turned to Rommie. "What? What does she mean? What's a Magistrate?"
"A judge, Trance. He's been taken to see the judge of a police court." The avatar tucked her dark hair behind her ears and asked the receptionist, "What's the most direct route to the Magistrate's office?"
~~
Harper slowly banged his forehead against the bars of his cell ignoring the dank, damp smell of his surroundings and wishing this were all a dream. It was no dream.
"And what was up with those nurses," he muttered to himself for he was alone in his little Hellhole. "Leave it to you, Seamus, to get clobbered by some weirdo and stuck in the only hospital with nurses who look like your Grandma. And those flowers...."
Grimacing against the stabbing pain in his head, he stopped banging and waited for the dizziness and circling twinkling fairy lights to fade from his vision. "You coulda been at your own funeral. Frell, maybe they recycle them." He shivered, having a vision of his room full of flowers surrounding an old man's coffin, fragrance masking the aroma of death.
"Shut yer trap, Alien!" someone yelled from down the cellblock.
"Yeah," said another, "or we'll cut out yer larynx, Whiner."
"Like to see you try, Wimps!" he growled back at them.
Laughter echoed down the clammy dim hall between the cells. Harper realized they knew he couldn't back up his words while stuck behind bars. The stench of old alcohol and unwashed bodies wafted over him, caused by the movement of the men. His stomach heaved. His head spun.
"Let me outta here and I'll show you what's funny! Take you all on and kick your asses."
More laughter followed.
"Ah," said a third man, "I 'eard he was whipped by a slip of a girl!"
The laughter echoed eerily, making his head pound.
"Hey, she was already out. Some wacko with white eyes shanghaied me. Hit me from behind like a friggin' coward!" The men fell silent. Harper swore he heard some of them muttering under their breaths. "What? What? I can hear you. Not such a wimp now, am I? Huh? Huh? Am I?"
"Ah, hush, Lad," said the third man from the cell beside his. "Ya don't want that one to 'ear ya and come callin' again. You're lucky to still 'ave all your vitals."
"Oh, yeah? Well, he's lucky I had my back turned cause I'd have-"
"That's enough! He's a demon, Lad. A spirit. Not 'uman nor beast. Not many who see 'im live the night. Say your prayers and count your blessings to still be amongst the livin'."
Harper rolled his eyes. Superstition. The man he'd seen was definitely spooky, but he was a man made of flesh and blood. Harper ran his hands through his hair, washed and soaped by the nurses. A narrow bandage wrapped around his head, holding a thick gauze pad in place at the base of his skull. Briefly, he wondered if the little witch who had attacked him had made off with his package. He started to ask the man in the cell next to his about the girl. Was she supposed to be a demon, too? However, his train of thought derailed when the sound of keys rattling against a door lock echoed down the cellblock. He stiffened, gripping the bars until his fingers turned white. He pressed his cheek against them, anxious to see who was coming. A large guard lumbered into view, pausing before each cell in turn and checking to see if the prisoners were still there.
"Hey! Hey, Lame Brain," Harper snapped, "I have a question."
The guard slowly made his way over, ignoring him. Eventually, he stopped before the bars to Harper's cell, and flicked a finger against the diminutive man's forehead.
"Ow!" Harper clutched his forehead. Suddenly angry, he lunged for the bars.
The guard stuck a hand through and shoved him backward onto his backside.
Gritting his teeth, he took a deep breath and stood, crossing his arms over his chest in barely mustered calm. "What about my one phone call? I'm supposed to get a phone call to anyone I want."
The lumbering man's huge wide face split into a wet smile, exposing dirty teeth with a missing canine. The odor of his fishy breakfast bathed the small man's face like a tidal wave. Harper gagged.
Anger surged in Harper making his hands tremble and stomach quiver. He dug his fingernails into his biceps, willing himself not to plunge his arms between the bars and beat the crap out of the moron. "And what the Hell's so funny, Loser?"
Soft laughter rumbled deep in the man's throat. "We 'ave no phones, Alien. You can send a carrier pigeon, if you'd like."
Harper's mouth dropped open. What kind of planet had a modern seedy spaceport and no phones or electronic communications relays? The guard laughed again and continued on, still chuckling. The engineer pressed himself against the bars again. "Hey! Hey, wait! What about breakfast? I'm wasting away in here!"
The slam of the heavy door at the other end of the cellblock was his only answer.
"Crap," he muttered and stumbled over to fall onto his threadbare bunk, head spinning with pain. "Just great, Seamus," he whispered so softly no one else could hear, "blow your only chance to meet chicks, get a friggin' concussion and feel like crap, and lose your goody bag." He sighed deeply, envisioning the service android waiting patiently in his quarters onboard the Andromeda Ascendant. A smile turned up the corners of his mouth. "At least you still have your project. You won't be alone for long."
TBC in ch 10