Captivate (Alien Cadets Book 2) Page 16

  "So she decided to take her chances with the Rik. That’s still not a great idea.”

  Basher nodded. "But I can't believe Akemi knew it was happening and couldn't stop her."

  Hey. Don’t blame the messenger, Akemi printed on Basher's screen.

  I couldn’t exactly lock any doors.

  I tried to wake Nat, but she sleeps like a dead person.

  And SOMEBODY didn’t give me access to their computer until just now.

  “Fine,” Basher held up his hands in surrender. “I know, I could have done it yesterday when Nat asked. But you’re sure you don’t know where they are now?”

  From the length of time she was moving, they clearly took the train to Lower Selta. Other than that... sorry. She was right, the glasses don’t have GPS capability. I can still reach the glasses through the signal boosters in the train corridor, but it ruins any sort of triangulation.

  “How long was she out?” Basher repeated. “Like, passed out?”

  "Six hours, give or take. She was probably just sleeping the last few hours. Her temperature is normal now."

  They stared at the video on his screen. They were almost caught up to present time, as Akemi skipped through the video quickly.

  Here it is. This is when she woke up.

  CHAPTER 19

  Claire woke in the dark, curled up under a blanket, her head on a pillow. An actual pillow. She sighed.

  Faal had wanted to emphasize the ‘natural’ state of his animals in the zoo, and so she’d had a kind of nest of grass and leaves under the trees in her cage. He kept the temperature rigidly controlled so she was never really cold, but it always felt wrong. Exposed.

  Her bunk on the ship had been serviceable, but no pillow.

  Now she lay on her left side, and though her ribs hurt if she shifted, the bed still felt heavenly.

  Claire knew at once that she was over the sickness. Her head felt clear, if a bit empty, and she was no longer feverish. She was alone on the bed in a dark room, though a pale light shone from a doorway to her right. She could hear voices from that room, but didn’t immediately say anything.

  In the calm silence, she faced the fact that Basher must be absolutely convinced that she was a Rik. That seemed more irrevocable now than it had yesterday in the cell. Was that only yesterday?

  Someone moved into the doorway. It was Sage.

  “Are you awake, Claire?” He was lit from behind and she couldn't see his expression.

  "Yes, I think so," she said. "Where are we?"

  “Why don’t you come out, when you’re ready, and we’ll tell you."

  Claire didn’t say anything, and he shut the door. It was awkward talking to someone when you were lying in bed.

  She pushed herself up and slowly stretched her protesting muscles. Her stomach was sore from throwing up and her back ached from being carried like a sack of potatoes half the night. She had almost forgotten what it felt like to recover from a sickness. Faal had air purifiers in the zoo that carefully adjusted gas, humidity, and particle dispersion in the different sectors. And there had been no humans to bring easily communicable germs into her orbit. Maybe she'd taken that for granted too long.

  She opened the door gingerly, feeling a little shy to meet these Rik who’d carried her through half of Selta. Although she felt rather conflicted about her choice of the night before, she had to admit that the Rik had been very good to her so far. They could have abandoned her at any time, but they hadn’t.

  The next room was long and narrow and was clearly a kitchen. There were four stoves in a row on one side, and a sink and lots of counter space on the other side. At the end of the room was a small oval table, where the Rik all sat.

  Claire entered the kitchen warily. This had the somber feeling of a hearing. They all sat quietly at the table waiting for her. Claire felt a flash of fear that she quickly squashed. They'd taken very good care of her, she reminded herself, getting her all the way here while she was practically comatose.

  She squinted at them. From across the room they were relatively clear, but up close they got blurry. Stupid far-sightedness.

  "Did you let Sage throw away my glasses?" she asked.

  Young Twin grinned and Sage smiled.

  "No, they're right here," he said. He’d been idly flipping the Spo token through his fingers, the one the embassy guard had given him. Sage tucked it in his pocket and pulled out her glasses.

  They felt warm and safe against her nose, and it was a relief to see everything clearly. Now that she could see their expressions better, she realized it was the other way around. They were worried about her reaction, and were trying to be non-threatening.

  "Can I get you some toast?" Young Twin offered. "That probably wouldn't hurt your stomach."

  Claire looked around the pristine kitchen. "Um - do we have toast? Do we have bread?"

  The tension was broken, and Young Twin chattered to her about food, while showing her the human appliances. She was so enthusiastic that Claire didn't have the heart to tell her that toasters and blenders were actually normal human items, not luxuries as she seemed to think.

  Claire began her breakfast, swooning a little at the taste of real bread and jam.

  “I hope you’re not regretting your decision,” Sage said.

  “Not right now,” Claire said around a bite of toast. “This is incredible.”

  “It wouldn’t be strange for you to have second thoughts this morning.”

  “Okay.” Claire took a drink of water. “I admit, I feel a little strange here with all of you, but it’s mainly because you’re all staring at me as I eat.”

  Immediately Athlete looked at the ceiling, Old Twin looked at the table, and Diva shut her eyes. “Is that better?” Diva asked.

  “Um. Sort of. You can open your eyes.” Claire could see that Sage was still waiting for an answer. When she was uncomfortable she usually fell back on flippancy, but apparently Sage wanted a real answer. “I’m not regretting that I came. Faal doesn’t know where I am for the first time in a long time, and that makes me feel... lighter. On the other hand, the only human I know is now pretty darn sure that I’m a Rik, and that’s... unfortunate.”

  Claire took another bite. “But all things considered, I’d do it again if I had to choose. I really appreciate that none of you voted to abandon me while I was so sick.”

  A little later, as Claire finished her food, she looked around the kitchen more carefully.

  “So, where are we?”

  “Ah. This is one of the first Earth-themed restaurants in Lower Selta. The owner is an entrepreneurial Crosspoint who wanted to get into this niche while it is still fresh. As I told you, he needs authentic servers and we are the best he can do. He wants some humans to lend to the... uh, 'ambiance of his establishment.’ Seltans love novelty, and having even the grunt work done by humans would make this place very unusual.”

  “We agreed to work for him for a while, in exchange for the bribe to the Spo guard. But it’s a generous deal, he’ll pay us a little as well, and we can live here, too,” Young Twin added.

  Claire gaped at them. “But... we can’t just work here, waiting for the Spo or Faal to come find us! Surely they'll hear about a restaurant with human staff in about five minutes?"

  The door behind the table swung open dramatically, and a little Crosspoint slug waited there, framed in the space.

  “Five minutes?" he said with comic drama. "You wrong me. My services are not for the common herd, you see. Nor do I advertise as a common bourgeois businessman. Word of my establishment is passed strictly word-of-mouth, and my guest list is full for months to come. Those Spo barbarians will never hear of us, and if any of the Merith faals intended to come, I would hear of him.”

  If he'd had a hand he would have waved it airily. Instead he advanced into the room with that curious glide the Crosspoint had. “Let me introduce myself. I am Francois."

  Claire’s first thought was that he had a lot of presence for a Crosspoint barely
as high as her armpit. Then her hand began to shake wildly. She pushed away from the table in panic and stood up, holding her possessed hand at arms length. “What the –?”

  The Crosspoint, Francois, smiled hugely and somewhat gruesomely. “Nice to meet you.”

  Her hand stopped moving.

  Claire stared at him, and then shook her head, her heart still pounding. “That is NOT how you shake hands.”

  The Crosspoint laughed with a squelching noise. “I know, but it is humorous nonetheless. Please sit, I would like to find out more about those I have rather rashly liberated from the Spo embassy.”

  Claire’s chair gently bumped the back of her legs and she jumped.

  “Sit!” Francois said again. “Tell me how I have acquired a sixth employee when I expected only five.”

  Claire sat. “Right... um, sorry about that. I was in the same cell as them and they offered... er, suggested I come with them. Sage said you would be willing to pay for my escape also.”

  “Indeed, I’ve already arranged to pay - do not be concerned. If I had known there were six acceptable candidates, I would have planned accordingly.”

  Sage broke in. “She’s human, Francois. Your investment turned out even better than you guessed.”

  All the cabinets in the kitchen opened and shut simultaneously, gusting Claire’s hair into her eyes.

  “This is superb!” Francois said. “Indeed, a rare chance for me. You will be able to aid me excessively in the authenticity of my presentation. What luck!”

  Claire gave a weak smile.

  “But then, while this is a luck for me,” he continued, “it is perhaps not so for you. Why did you leave the embassy? There is at least one other human there, the hound they’ve employed these past few years.”

  “I was afraid that Faal might take me from the embassy. I stole from him.”

  “Faal of Merith II?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “I am impressed. Not many get the better of Faal in any transaction, let alone a pure theft. But that may be in your favor, he respects strength.”

  “He doesn’t respect me,” Claire said. She shuddered slightly. “He was extremely angry when I escaped.”

  Francois looked thoughtful. “I will certainly keep abreast of his movements as much as I may. As I said, my clients are of a select nature - but I can at least be certain that if Faal inquires about me, I will know of it. I am very well connected.”

  Claire told herself to be satisfied with that, but she was uneasy.

  “And you others?” Francois said. “I know Sage, of course, we were acquainted before, but I do not know the rest of you.”

  Old Twin bowed slightly, “I was an educator - professor, you might say - in the capital city on our planet. I have had four directors graduate under me. I was a mentor to the current S.D. –”

  “S.D.?” Claire asked.

  “Supreme Director,” Old Twin said, as if she should have known.

  “Oh.”

  “She was one of my best students –”

  “We get it,” Diva said, rolling her eyes. “You’re brilliant and influential and don’t deserve to be in this freak show. I, on the other hand, volunteered to become human. I was a popular entertainer on Rik. There were twenty thousand people at my last performance... It was chaos.” She closed her eyes, clearly basking in the memory.

  Athlete looked up from his breakfast. “I was an athlete. It means the same thing in English. I was chosen for the first migration for publicity reasons.”

  “He was great!” Young Twin explained. “The Rik are swimmers, you know, and he was champion four years in a row. Now he does weightlifting and wrestling.”

  Young Twin looked at him adoringly and Claire smiled involuntarily. Fan girl.

  But as she pictured Athlete wrestling, Claire had a sudden shock. “I know you!”

  He put another bite in his mouth. “Is that so?”

  “My dad loves wrestling and he used to watch WWWF at night - World Wide Wrestling Federation. It’s a cheesy show with colorful costumes and fake stories, but my dad still enjoyed the fights. Your circuit name was something like Ballistic Bomber or Bludgeon... you were a famous wrestler.”

  Claire now recalled the rest of the story. He’d dropped out of the wrestling show and the wrestling circuit all together. She remembered her dad saying sadly that those guys frequently ended up on steroids and then harder drugs until they destroyed their lives...

  But apparently he hadn't done that. He'd... been abducted by aliens. Claire looked uncomfortably at the Rik sitting at the table. She hadn't quite grasped the full implications of their story yet.

  Athlete just nodded. "I assumed they chose an athlete for me."

  Young Twin seemed to sense Claire's unease. "I was just the director’s daughter. Lucky me,” she said apologetically.

  “How old are you?” Claire asked her.

  She laughed uneasily. “I was twenty-five years old on Rik, but we mature rather later than humans. What do you call it when you’re not a kid anymore, but no one thinks you’re ready to do anything serious?”

  Claire laughed in spite of herself. “You’re a teenager.”

  “I guess so. But Sage –”

  “I was a philosopher,” Sage broke in. “That’s why I can never shut up.”

  There was a slight pause, as if someone was about to speak and the others automatically held back. But no one spoke, and then it was gone.

  “Anyway, we didn’t really choose to take these people. They were going to someone... and we were selected,” Young Twin added quietly. “Now we just want to find a place to be safe. And learn to be human.”

  Claire impulsively squeezed her hand. “Wouldn’t it be safer to... change back to being a Rik? Would that be so terrible?”

  Young Twin looked shocked. “Don’t you think I would if I could? We can only transfer once. Otherwise the...” she looked at Sage for help. “How did you explain it?”

  “Our neural net can handle the first transfer, but it frays a bit. A second transfer invariably results in so much decay that the consciousness is lost.”

  “Can you transfer to other species besides humans?” Claire asked.

  “Yes... but we don’t. Other species know about the technology, and are on their guard. They despise us for using it, but resent us because they cannot. If we started taking bodies willy-nilly,” Sage paused, and seemed to recollect himself. “Well, we do not. Francois, what work do you have for us today? The morning is already half over! We are at your service.”

  Francois glided their breakfast dishes to the sink. “Very well, let me introduce you to your new home.”

  CHAPTER 20

  Claire and the others followed Francois from the kitchen into the dining area of his restaurant. It was a tiny little place, essentially a bar with twelve seats in front of it and three low tables. There were six pairs of seats, for each type of the various aliens who might come: mushroom-shaped squats for the Spo, stools for the Merith, cup-seats for the Vel, and so on. At the end of the bar, furthest from the kitchen, was a door to the street, and though Francois told Claire it was currently locked, she kept glancing at it.

  The walls appeared to have dark wood paneling, while the bar itself was black with a high gloss surface in which Claire could see her reflection. (Which was pretty disheveled.)

  A strange assortment of human objects were displayed on the walls. Claire could guess why Francois chose most of them, but it was decidedly strange to see a circular arrangement of empty frames around a bright pink hula hoop, with a mounted deer's head in the center. That was on the back wall. On the front wall there were two shelves. The first one held a guitar and two violins standing upright, which could almost have been normal decor. The second shelf held four pairs of shoes: one pair of children's blue sandals, some red high heels, and two pairs of brightly colored Nike trainers.

  The whole room couldn’t have been more than ten feet across, and perhaps three times that deep.
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  “Size is nothing, it’s all about presentation,” Francois told them, as if he’d heard her. “If you present yourself, and your establishment, as elite and mysterious – a haven for the connoisseur of culture – it will be perceived as such.”

  Claire glanced down at herself. She was still wearing the uniform she’d gotten aboard Final Say, and it was on the outer edge of grimy. She’d worn it during her last two days on the ship, the afternoon and night at the embassy prison, and today. Wow, was it only the second day since she’d left the ship? It felt much longer.

  Regardless, she needed a shower or some serious deodorant because she had the rank smell of someone unwashed and recently ill. She certainly didn’t feel either elite or mysterious.

  “Presence,” Francois repeated emphatically. A cutting board resting on the bar thumped to make his point. “You must cultivate presence.”

  He continued to lecture, and Claire tried to wrap her head more firmly around the idea of his telekinesis. She'd dealt with that Crosspoint on the ship only days ago, after all. He had moved a few things: scooting out a chair, bringing a drink, trussing her up like a goose. But Francois moved things all the time. Maybe the other Crosspoint had trained himself to rein in his ability in order to make other species more comfortable. If so, Francois had despised such training. Every sentence ended with a visible period, as some plate or cutlery or something twitched.

  It was more than a little distracting.

  Claire kept catching movement out of the corner of her eye and looking, only to see a pot gracefully swaying on its hook or grains of rice lifting and trickling through invisible fingers.

  “You still haven’t told me,” Claire said, breaking into his monologue and gesturing at the door, “What makes you certain that the Spo won’t hear about this place and grab us tomorrow?”

  “For one thing – you keep wincing, dear girl! What is the matter?”

  She'd sunk down on a stool and her ribs gave a painful twinge.

  “I got kicked by a Merith yesterday. It’s rather sore.” She rubbed her hand over the tender area.

  “Hmm.” The top of her uniform started to slide up. “Let’s see.”