Outcast (8 page)

However, keeping the princess in exile meant that she would be sheltered from all interferences until she came of age, when she would mate with two
laar
, the traditional way. Her offspring would therefore be pure, preserving the bloodline that had existed in the Belaari royal family for thousands and thousands of years.

It was her destiny, and Lan knew all about that concept.

They were a fascinating race. Lan had read everything he could find on them that very morning, sitting on his bed trying to forget all the nonsense the doctor had told him while Prez murmured and snored just across the room. But then Kai had described the temperature control machine as
lovesick
, and for one horrible moment Lan realized he must have been broadcasting, another loss of control that only occurred in the condition the doctor had described.

But then he had felt Prez's bafflement and surprise trickling like a soothing ointment down his spine. It meant that he had not noticed, and Lan hoped he would continue not to notice. It was the only advantage to being one of a kind, so far from home. If Prez was so ignorant about the Belaari, with whom he frequently did business, he was sure to know nothing about Aldorians, and Lan meant it to stay that way.

The shop he was looking for was at the corner of the promenade, and he paused to look at the displays of exotic insects in the window, shivering at the thought of releasing Flack on the bridge -- as Prez insisted -- to give him some exercise. Every time his slender fingers got tangled in another web, he fought the urge to crush the spider. Surely, they would run into another Malaihan soon, who could reverse the transformation. Maybe then Flack would learn his lesson and stop drinking and throwing his money away on poker games with every lowlife the universe had to offer. Glitch had filled him in on Flack's proclivities, and he was not impressed.

But then Prez would have his old co-pilot back, and he would not need Lan any more. The thought was like a physical pain, and Lan leaned against a glass tank full of ticks, breathing hard. He noticed the shopkeeper shivering and made an effort to control himself, but it was getting harder and harder. He stared miserably at the leaping insects and pressed his head against the glass.

***

"You want me to take
what
?" Prez stared at the syringe in Kai's hand, incredulous.

"It is a vaccination," Kai said. "For your own protection." She stared at him expectantly.

"Is the cargo diseased?"

Kai sighed. "You are aware of very little," she said, and Prez felt his stomach start to burn with dislike. Her violet gaze settled on his crotch. "It is for your own protection."

"Well, why aren't you making Lan have a vaccination too?" He felt like a petulant child under her stare, and folded his arms, wishing she would look at his face.

She looked at Lan. "For this one, it would be pointless. And in any case, we have no formula designed for his race. Your crew have already been vaccinated." She gestured out of the window toward the dock. Prez could see the three of them sitting around a makeshift table, eating and talking. They didn't look as if they were suffering any ill effects.

He sighed.
Think of the money
, he told himself. "Well, will you at least tell me what it's for?"

"The effects will be negligible," she said. "And will wear off once the cargo has been delivered. The vaccination will make you more...
keh
."

Comfortable. Castrated
. The words buzzed together and he felt another pain kicking off behind his forehead. "What the hell...
castrated
?" He stared at her, eyes wide.

He heard a clicking noise and realized with a start that Lan was chuckling. "I'm glad you think this is amusing."

Kai looked impatient. "You will be unfamiliar with the condition of
melohar
," she said. No translation, just a faint buzz. "The cargo is
suho
, and ready for mating. In that condition, were you to lay eyes upon it, you would be deeply affected by the aura. You would not be able to resist, and it is vital that the cargo arrives in Galahen
untouched
. So you will have this vaccination, or we will not proceed."

Typical of Belaari to impose conditions at the last minute. Prez rolled up his sleeve and stuck out his arm. "Go ahead then," he said. "We're late as it is."

Kai flashed her sharp teeth and pushed the syringe through his skin. Something warm started to diffuse through his body. He felt his heart thumping harder in his chest and an itch building all over, not just where the vaccine had entered his skin but everywhere, in his blood. The room started to lose its sharpness as he felt his eyes lose focus. "Is this normal?" he said, his voice sounding distant to his own ears. His skin was starting to burn. It was getting hard to breathe. His chest tightened and his throat started to close, then the room began to spin and he crashed to the ground, unconscious.

Chapter Six

It felt like being in a warm bath, the air around him lapping against his exposed skin. There was a pleasant humming in his head, and he found himself standing on the edge of a vast plain. The grass was high and there were some grazing beasts nearby, flicking their ears and tails as small green flies buzzed around. The wind smelled sweet, and the twin suns were rising over distant mountains, red and hazy through the faint clouds. It was a beautiful scene, and in the back of his mind, he heard faint music, melancholy and haunting.

A small suitcase lay beside him on the ground; in the distance, dust was rising from an approaching vehicle. He looked behind, one last look. There was a white building in the distance, a large tent in the garden that some workmen were taking down.
Home
. He looked back at the suns, the twin orange eyes that saw everything, even the sadness in his heart. The music rose to a crescendo and died away.

Prez opened his eyes and looked around, disoriented. It was silent and the lights were dimmed. Someone was sitting beside him on the bed, a warm hand stroking his face. He felt a tear run down his cheek and wiped it away. Already the images were evaporating from his memory, hovering out of reach like amberflies.

"Garlo?" he said. For a moment, he thought he was back in the lab. His tongue felt thick in his mouth. "What happened?"

Lan stood up and folded his arms. "You had an allergic reaction to Kai's vaccine. The Belaari doctor administered an antidote. You will be fine."

Prez sat up, scratching at the fading rash on his arms. He could see his reflection in the window against a black backdrop of stars. "Who's flying the ship?"

"We cleared the port two days ago. I have put the ship on autopilot, as we are currently in Azari space. Scanners show no other vessels within even a day's travel. The Azari flight controllers were... indisposed."

"Oh yes, their hibernation cycle." Prez laughed. "Kin-tah." His head still felt fuzzy, so he lay down again, remembering the music but little else from his dream. "That was a nice song."

Lan raised an eyebrow. "I was not singing."

"I heard music. And some crazy dreams. Twin suns and..." He tried to remember, but couldn't. There was a sudden chill, and he pulled the blanket tighter around his body.

Lan looked at the floor. "If you are feeling better, then I will return to the bridge. Flack has constructed a new web on your chair. However, he appears to enjoy the ticks."

"Well, that's something."

"Yes."

"Lan, don't go."

"Why?"

"I don't know," Prez said, running his hand through his hair. "It's been a crazy week. I wouldn't mind some company."

"Glitch is waiting to see you. They have been very concerned."

Prez stared at Lan. He got the feeling that the Aldorian very much wanted to leave the room, but he couldn't understand why. Perhaps his reckless behavior at the port had offended him in some way. "Lan, aren't you happy here? Have I done something to annoy you?"

"You have not done something to annoy me. I am...
happy
."

"Okay then."

"Okay." Lan left the room without looking around, and Prez stared at the door, baffled. Then there was a bleep, and Glitch came in. She was carrying a bunch of artificial flowers and a bag of Skits.

"Thought you might be hungry," she said, setting the flowers down on the bedside table.

Prez grinned and tore open the packet. "Mm," he said and stuffed his mouth with as many as he could fit in. "Fanks."

Glitch took his hand in hers. "Glad to see you back in the land of the living. It's been mad down there with those
constructs
prowling around, watching our every move. Lan's been taking care of you, I see."

"Has he?" Prez was surprised. "Seems he couldn't get out of here fast enough."

"He's barely left this room since we cleared port."

Prez considered the music he'd heard, the images he'd seen, and wondered what it all meant. Perhaps Lan was just doing his
duty
as he had before, forced yet again to look after the crazy
ku-tah
. "Any news from home?"

"Nothing much," Glitch said. "Except they've stopped firing on the compounds, and
talks
are taking place. Some transports have left already, but there aren't many planets opening their doors to a load of
ku-tah
, Akilian Citizens or not."

"There's a surprise."

There was a silence. "Well," she said. "I'd better go back. Got a scan running. There's a problem somewhere in the electrics, nothing serious. But the doors aren't locking properly. Should be fixed soon."

"Ok," Prez said, and threw his covers off. "I'm getting up. Can't let Lan have all the fun."

"I don't know that he's had any fun," she said, and stood up. Prez noticed there were tears in her eyes. "We thought we'd lost you there." Her voice was small and quiet, and she sniffed and rubbed her nose on her sleeve.

Prez gave her a hug. She smelled of apples and engine oil. "You won't lose me," he said. "Not yet anyway. I've got some plans you'll like, once this mission is over and we've got ourselves a faster ship. That's if you're planning to stay with me, of course."

She smiled. "You saved me from the compound, Prez. We're family. Wherever you go, I'll be there. And... welcome back, Captain."

***

The following night the ship was back on autopilot, passing through a particularly empty part of the sector where the only danger for a pilot was -- according to Prez -- dying of boredom. Lan stood at the mirror in his quarters and rubbed some
maquille
oil into his skin, trying to take away the dryness caused by one too many chemical showers. The smell of the oil made him remember his mother; exhausted after a long day scrubbing the spring fluff of the
blajo
trees from the generator interior, she'd rub the oil on her cracking skin to soothe the rawness away. Melancholy settled over him like a fog. He didn't want to be with the others, not when so many crazy thoughts were running around in his brain like
pok
in mating season.

But there was a
Kiz-Mah
dinner to attend, a party Glitch had organized and apparently made a cake for. The thought of eating sweet food made him feel slightly faint. He straightened and tried to ignore the unpleasant sensation in his groin. The beads in his hair clicked together and he remembered the soft touch of Prez's hands, braiding his hair. The stomach-clenching terror that had jolted his brain when he'd watched Prez crashing to the ground at his feet, swollen-faced and deathly pale. The relief when the doctor had said the captain would sleep off the ill-effects in a day or two. Then the panic when he'd read how these unusually extreme emotions could be a symptom of a wide variety of mental disorders, some requiring hospitalization. He threw his Tablet on the floor in a fit of despair and turned his thoughts to
Kiz-mah
.

The presents he had managed to find for the others in honor of their festival lay in his satchel. The Elders had drummed the thirteen
Mishaqueh
into his head at school; all emotions came in pairs, two parts of a whole, an active and a passive. All thirteen concepts were represented in statue form at the temple, stone carvings of tenets of belief that would take days to translate into written language. The only one that had no pair was
faolomisha,
being alone, cut off from the universe. It was represented in the temples -- and the miniature set he'd brought -- by a small, shriveled figure in dark robes that covered almost all of the face, leaving a mouth open in a silent scream to the heavens. Not particularly appropriate as a gift, but then again, the others would just think of the figures as novelty statues, and who was he to interfere in the pleasure of choice? He stroked the face of the miniature and dropped it into the bag with the others. Even though he would have liked nothing better than to be alone right at that moment, the thought of that scorned figure was always enough to spur him to company. He looked in the mirror again, satisfied that his appearance did not reflect the turmoil in his mind, and stepped out of his quarters.

The others were gathered in the equipment storage area where a small table had been erected and decorated with a flowing red cloth and candles. There was a carafe of
mukkesh
that Kris was guzzling at an impressive rate. An elaborately-decorated cake had pride of place in the center of the table, three layers of dark brown sponge with cream plastered over the top. "Lan!" exclaimed Glitch, patting the empty chair beside her. "So glad you could come."

He sat down in the chair a little too hard and pain jolted through his body for a second. "Thank you for inviting me."

Prez leaned over the table and squeezed his hand. "You're one of us now, my friend. Happy
Kiz-Mah
."

"Happy
Kiz
-
mah
!" Kris slurred and raised his glass. Lan noticed that Prez wasn't drinking, and raised an eyebrow at the water in his glass.

"Still feeling a bit ropey," Prez said, grinning. "No bad behavior for me tonight."

Lan reached into his satchel and pulled out the small bag. "This festival lasts for a long time."

"The best thing about it," Kris slurred, draining his glass. "It lasts until you forget about it. Like two weeks, sometimes more."

"Yeah," Vaxel said, slicing into the cake and plopping a huge slice onto his plate. "Or until you get sick of eating." He chuckled and threw his ponytail back over his shoulder. "Like
that
ever happens."

The noise of Vaxel's chewing made Lan feel nauseous again. He closed his eyes and tried to focus. The presents. He touched the beads in his hair. "To return your kindness," he said. "Some gifts from Aldor. They are small. I did not have time to pack many things."

Prez took the bag and peered inside at the thirteen figures. "What are they?"

"They are representations of the
Mishaqueh
. They are..." He searched for the right word. "Tenets. Of Aldorian central philosophy. You may choose the figure you like most."

Glitch picked up one of the elaborately-carved miniatures and turned it over in her hands. "Wow, these are beautiful! What's this one? I love it already. Look at his funny little smile."

Despite the nausea, Lan smiled. "The closest translation is
mischief
. His other is... I do not know how to explain it. A state of... serious contemplation."

"Mischief. I like it! Thanks, Lan." She grabbed him in a squeeze and kissed his cheek. "Very me, don't you think?"

Kris lined the figures up in a crooked line and helped himself to some cake. Vaxel poured out more mukkesh and soon the conversation fragmented, discussing the figures and philosophy in general as they tried to decide which figures best suited them. Lan dutifully forced himself to eat a slice of cake, trying to focus on the conversation through the burst of images that were racing through his mind. Brown
ku-tah
hands holding a screwdriver. A broken android. Photographs of people and places he didn't know. Depressed, he remembered how excited he'd been when he'd first met aliens whose minds he couldn't read. He longed for the peace of silent thoughts again.

"I'll take this one." Prez was holding the one Lan was sure no one would have wanted, the robed figure of
faolomisha
in her silent wail of loneliness. "What's its pair?"

For a second, Lan was swept away by sadness. "It has no pair. It is alone."

Prez shrugged and slipped the figure into his pocket. "Very appropriate, then."

"Don't be so blue-brained, Prez." Kris draped himself around Prez's neck, his eyes glazed with
mukkesh
. "You've got, like,
us
. We're all together."

Prez laughed. "Of course we are."

But Lan felt the darkness start to open up again, and looked at the captain, his eyes suddenly blurring. There were too many emotions in the room. He felt as if his head was a SaltBall being blasted from one
maislak
to another on the field of play. He stood up suddenly, and his head swam for a second.

"I must retire," he said and it was all he could do to stop himself fleeing the room. Forcing a bow, he remembered his manners. "Happy
Kiz-Mah
. And thank you once again for the gifts."

***

They stared at the door, open-mouthed. Finally, Vaxel shrugged and poured the last of the
mukkesh
into his glass. "He's a weird one."

Prez fingered the figure he'd selected and looked at its twisted face with a frown. "He's just different. Leave him alone."

"Hey! I wasn't saying anything bad. Don't get your knickers in a twist."

"So, the eye-candy thing didn't work out?" Glitch said, a twinkle in her eye.

Prez snorted. "I never used those words. Don't be ridiculous. He's perfectly competent. As if I'd..."

"As if you'd
what
." Vaxel roared with laughter. "Pull the other one. Of course you would."

There was a silence as Prez shifted uncomfortably under the bright-eyed, expectant gazes of his crew. He didn't need telepathic abilities to know what they were thinking.
Going to make a move? Any chance? Anything going on?
"I think I'll go to bed myself," he said, standing up. "Thanks for the cake, Glitch, another masterpiece of culinary delight. Maybe you can help the android sometimes. I'm sick of that dried shit it keeps churning out."