Captivate (Alien Cadets Book 2) Read online

  Claire clutched her shirt, holding it down. “Stop that! For heaven’s sake. Personal space.”

  Francois looked blank. “Are humans protective of their pain? I didn’t know. The Tergre are like that, and the Spo, a little. I apologize –”

  “No, I’m sorry I snapped at you,” Claire said. “I’m not protective of – of the pain, we just don’t – you can’t move someone’s clothes without asking. We’re protective of our space.”

  “Would it violate your space if I fixed those bones that are hurting you?” Several bowls adjusted themselves on a shelf behind Francois’ head, as if impatient.

  “Um. Can you do that?”

  “Of course. I have basic micro-medical training, after all. Just hold still for a moment.”

  He closed his eyes, which Claire found to be a relief. She hadn’t realized how much his undivided attention was tiring her. While Francois showed them around and gave his impromptu lecture on his “philosophy of food service,” he’d been focusing on her. Perhaps because she was the only real human?

  Pain flared in her rib cage.

  “Ow! Yikes – ow.” She rubbed her side, but the pain was almost gone before the words were out of her mouth.

  “How is that?”

  She gingerly stretched her arms over her head and felt only the echo of an ache.

  “That’s incredible. Thank you so much.”

  “It’s nothing, it’s nothing,” he said, but Claire could tell he was pleased. “Human bones are not much different from other calcium fortified mammals. A few cells shifted, and it’s half-healed. You should be careful for several weeks, however, not to re-injure the spot.”

  Then he launched into the nuances of food preparation for alien species. She’d gotten the gist of this during her work on the Diarena’s ship, but she’d only been in charge of fetching and carrying and trash removal. She certainly hadn’t been allowed to help prepare the food.

  There were supplements for everything. When an alien ate across culture, which apparently aliens loved to do, things got complicated. Every species had standard vitamin supplements that they generally took with any meal that wasn’t from their home planet. But each species had things they flat couldn’t stomach, or that had to be counteracted in some ways. So it was a balance – present the cuisine as close to the original as possible, but in such a way that the customer wouldn’t leave with a stomach ache, hives, or newly sprouted green hair. Some ingredients could be suppressed and some had to be altered. Some were innocuous when combined with another Earth food, or only in certain amounts. Some had to be separated out altogether.

  Francois had been testing all his food samples for the last few weeks as he prepared to open his restaurant.

  Claire wished she had a computer, or even a notebook to take notes. She felt like she’d strayed into an advanced chemistry class without her textbook.

  "You look pained again," Francois said. "It's very disconcerting."

  "Sorry. I'm just trying to remember what you said. Protein supplements for Vel - ?"

  "No, no. You're treating this like a science, but it is art! You mustn't just memorize this as a list, but get a feel for each species and their particular problems." The guitar on the wall strummed gracefully, apparently to make his point about art.

  Francois continued to teach all morning, and despite what he said, it was a lot of memorization. At some point a young Merith came in, whom Francois introduced as the chef. The chef began preparations for lunch, mixing up bread dough and forming about eight loaves. The yeast and wheat smell was intoxicating.

  If someone had asked Claire whether she missed the smell of flour or corn meal or any of a dozen mundane ingredients, she would have shrugged. But as she trailed after Francois, listening to the eccentricities of each species’ food requirements, each smell was a world of memory.

  The smell of dough reminded her of Thanksgiving when she made rolls with her Nana and watched her mom roll out pie crusts on the table. The yeast smelled like homemade pizza, her dad’s specialty. The cinnamon was for winter. It was the smell of oatmeal and Cuban hot chocolate.

  “Francois, you never told me. How do you get all this?” Claire asked, when he paused. If someone was bringing him supplies from Earth, then someone here was regularly going to Earth. Why shouldn’t she use that ship to get home?

  “I have contacts in Spo mainspace who put me in touch with a supplier. Earth restaurants are going to be the next big thing. From what I understand, shipments are still controlled by the Spo supervisors on Earth, but I bought a start-up shipment which should last for some months.”

  “Months?” Claire said. “How long are we going to be working for you?”

  “It depends,” Francois said, not unkindly. “You and your friends will get a percentage of my profit, so the more I make... But now look here and tell me, is this food or paint? I tried some in a mixed drink only two days ago and it turned me pink for twelve hours."

  Hunts and Heinz ketchup sat in the cabinet, and Claire laughed in spite of herself. “It is more like paint than food, but we eat it. It’s supposed to go on certain things...mostly salty, fried things.”

  “Ah, see, already you help me.” He smiled, and his flat, leaf-grinding molars flashed again.

  After lunch and more delicious human food, Claire was dismissed to her new living quarters to get cleaned up and get changed for the evening opening.

  “I would like you all to take part in the food preparation eventually," Francois added, "to add to the authenticity of the experience. But authenticity goes poorly with bad food, so that will wait. Tonight you will merely serve food and speak to the customers.”

  “Speak?” Claire's voice squeaked. “Tonight?”

  “Just pleasantries. The customers are connoisseurs of culture and they are curious about Earth. The timing of the trial couldn’t be better; you’re famous!”

  Claire licked her lips. No one seemed to be concerned about having a high profile job after escaping from the Spo. They kept telling her that Lower Selta was big enough for the restaurant to remain below the radar of whoever was searching for them, but Claire still felt like this was a crazy plan. Maybe it was because she’d been unconscious on the journey, but she didn’t feel nearly far enough away.

  If they were all going to remain discretely hidden in the kitchen that would be one thing, but Francois wanted them front and center.

  Sage pulled her aside to whisper in her ear, “We can make a fortune if we stick with this. I know he’s a little overwhelming, but hang in there. Your share for tonight alone would be...” and the amount made Claire's eyes get wide. “We have to pay off our escape first, but then we’ll earn quickly.”

  It was more than a week's worth of pay on Final Say, for a few hours of serving food and chatting up the guests. Surely she could silence her nerves for such a good cause.

  Sage showed her back through the kitchen into the bedroom she’d slept in. The other door off the bedroom led to a small staircase.

  “Straight up there are our living quarters. Girls on the left, boys on the right. Diva said that would make you more comfortable."

  Claire blushed. “Sure, whatever.”

  The small apartment above the restaurant had two bedrooms, with the shower room in the middle. The “girls” room was fitted out with Spo cots, but they would do fine for humans. Next to each bed there was a hook on the wall, and Claire could see that the Rik girls had already hung their extra clothes up.

  She went to the unclaimed bed and sank down on it, grateful for a moment of quiet reflection.

  What was she doing here? Was she a fool to stay and trust Francois and the Rik? Was she a traitor to enjoy the company of her new friends?

  And yes, she was starting to think of them as friends. She told herself to stay on guard, but it was hard to do. They might be aliens, but they also seemed like decent people...

  Claire went to the shower room and was surprised to find it looked a lot like an earthly bathroom. A
large mirror, a toilet (shaped for the Spo, of course, but workable), and a big walk-in, wrap around shower. In the corner by the mirror was a built in cabinet, and she spied a stack of clothing waiting there. Claire picked up the top item, a cherry-red, satin something, and unfolded it.

  “Ha! A kimono?”

  She ran her hand down the pretty wrap-around dress, admiring the gold and black thread on the red background. Was she supposed to wear this?

  She looked through the rest of the stack. There were two more red kimonos, three royal blue ones, and two black. Serving gowns perhaps? Francois had said something about changing clothes. On the next shelf was underwear, and Claire grinned to see such a common, yet utterly gorgeous thing as real cotton underwear.

  Hmm. She looked at the tags but the sizing was in another language, probably Japanese, so she made a guess and left the rest neatly stacked.

  Claire took her glasses off when she got in the shower. Water might break the delicate electronics.

  The shower was heavenly. She’d gotten to shower regularly on the ship, of course, but they’d had short time slots. She’d gotten four minutes every other day. This unrestricted access was a treat, and she blasted the hot water for a long time.

  When she was dry and dressed, she stared in the mirror for a long time. It had been so long since she’d really looked at herself. Years.

  She didn’t know this person very well. It wasn’t that she was so much older or taller than she had been - the physical differences between seventeen and twenty-one weren’t that obvious. It was more the expression that was different. The seriousness of the eyes, the firmly compressed lips.

  It was bizarre to feel so little connection to the person in the mirror. Her light brown skin was so pale it was almost yellow. Lack of sunlight was probably to blame for that, Claire supposed. She had a lot of dark, curly hair, and dark brown eyes. And of course the wretched Spo tattoo on her cheek.

  She didn’t know if she was still pretty or not. She was thin, too thin, Claire thought, picturing Diva and the twins. Basher was probably right about a vitamin deficiency. And this girl looked so... guarded. She looked like a cautious, well-trained Spo cadet.

  How odd. Claire had not really been their type when she was in high school. Her grades were fine, but she spent more time at her volleyball and softball practices than she had on homework. Everybody knew the Spo were picking genius kids, so she’d been shocked when they’d come for her. She’d always thought they made a weird mistake selecting her, but now she looked exactly their sort.

  Hmm.

  Claire put her shoes on, even though her ship shoes were all wrong for the kimono, and went back downstairs to get ready for her job.

  CHAPTER 21

  If Akemi still had lungs, she would have watched with baited breath. Claire’s story was better than a movie. Akemi totally loved Sam and Nat, but there was no denying that two people were not enough company. During the last two weeks Akemi had grown sick of seeing Senator Fontley’s angry face, Sam's frustrated one, and Nat’s blank, politically pacifying one. Watching Claire’s life was a breath of fresh air.

  And goodness, those kimonos were beautiful. Akemi was from Japan and she knew good craftsmanship when she saw it. That Crosspoint hadn’t been exaggerating; his restaurant must be super exclusive (and expensive) to afford exports like that.

  Francois was briefing them on the dinner guests now. He’d planned who would sit in each of the twelve chairs, and he wanted it all to be perfect.

  “The two Tergre here, the Vel family at the other end, single Crosspoint here and here...” He removed the chairs to leave empty spaces for the Crosspointers, and arranged the cup chairs for the Vel.

  When he mentioned any specific names, Akemi immediately searched for them in the Seltan databases she could access.

  He wasn't kidding about having exclusive clients.

  The Tergre family he mentioned was listed as one of the founding names in Seltan history. They currently owned 64% of mining capabilities on the planet... they were like the Rockefellers in New York.

  Akemi also stored the list of names on Basher’s computer. Perhaps he could track down this restaurant through them.

  Suddenly Claire tripped and her glasses flew off. Akemi heard Claire groan.

  "If these break I'm going to kill myself," Claire said sarcastically.

  Akemi wasn't worried. The frames were titanium - light and very strong. Claire would have to do more than drop them to bend those babies.

  However, in the moment it took Claire to stoop and grab the glasses, Akemi realized she had an interesting opportunity. It was probably a bad idea, but...

  Claire picked up the glasses, automatically grabbing the bridge so as not to smudge the lenses, as she settled them on her nose.

  Safe mode initialized. Are you injured? Akemi sent.

  Nat and Sam would smack her if they knew the risk she was taking, and Basher would be very angry that she disregarded his directions, but Akemi didn't care. She wanted to be involved, and she would be careful. Besides, what could they do to her?

  Claire froze when the words showed up, and Akemi knew exactly what she was thinking. She still wanted the glasses, but if the others knew they had turned on, they'd freak out again.

  Akemi smiled to herself. She could give Claire a way out.

  Please clench your jaw for yes

  Or blink for no

  Claire blinked slowly, looking guiltily around, no doubt to see if anyone had noticed.

  Good enough for now. Akemi faded out, she didn't want to overwhelm Claire or she might change her mind and do without the glasses. And this was too fun.

  ***

  The other girls went off upstairs to change, and Claire surreptitiously took off her glasses as if to clean them.

  She squeezed hard on the bridge while she did it, and put them back on hopefully.

  Hmm. No menu, no off option. Claire cleaned them again, very carefully, looking for a tiny switch or camera, or anything that would indicate how to turn these off. She would have tried speaking a few random commands but then the others might realize what had happened.

  Claire heard them coming back down the stairs, and put the glasses back on as they entered the room.

  The Rik women were wearing the same kind of kimono she was, and they did it way better than her. Diva looked regal and beautiful, large and proud. The twins wore matching black kimonos and pulled their hair back identically, which made it really hard for Claire to tell them apart. She hadn't realized how identical they were until now. Their personalities were so different that she’d had no trouble. Young Twin seemed like a bubbly teenager, crushing hard on Athlete, while Old Twin was a cynical, crabby old woman.

  “We really have to work on this Young Twin and Old Twin business,” Claire said. “Those names are so unwieldy, and they don’t suit either of you.”

  Young Twin grinned. “I know, they’re terrible! Do you have any suggestions? Sage kept calling us that, because he’s a stick-in-the-mud scientist, but I’m sick of it.”

  Old Twin rolled her eyes. “Is there a name for someone light on intelligence who never shuts up?”

  Young Twin stuck out her tongue. “I want a name that’s young and romantic and beautiful...”

  “How about Juliet?” Claire offered. “She was a character in a famous play who fell in love with a boy she couldn’t have.”

  “Juliet – I love it!” She looked genuinely pleased.

  “What did people call you?” Claire asked Old Twin.

  “Madame Professor,” she said shortly. “So don’t try and give me a cute new name. I’ve expelled students for less.”

  “But don’t you want –”

  “No. I’ve been Old Twin for a while now. That will do.”

  Sage and Athlete came back in traditional Asian garb, which looked more than a little funny on Sage’s gangly frame and Athlete’s quiet bulk.

  Young Twin, or Juliet, Claire corrected herself, told the guys her new na
me, and Sage gave Claire an approving smile. It was strange how good that felt.

  Francois assigned them each to one of the parties that would be coming, and drilled them in how to address them. Claire was starting to get the uncomfortable feeling she used to get before a test. By the time Francois unlocked the front door she was stationed behind the bar in front of the two Tergre spots...and her stomach was in a knot.

  The first guests to arrive were a family of Vel, a grandmother, her daughter, and a granddaughter. The grandmother was some kind of bigwig, which was why she could afford to bring her family to such an expensive, exclusive place.

  They were Juliet’s responsibility, who bowed shakily and greeted them.

  With surprise, Claire realized Juliet looked nervous. A quick glance showed Diva swallowing compulsively and a muscle in Athlete’s neck twitching spasmodically.

  They were nervous too! Claire felt better. They were used to acting, but this whole crazy evening was getting to them too. Fair enough.

  Claire put her shoulders back. She was the only real human here, after all, she should be proud. They had to fake it, but she was genuine.

  As each guest arrived, in pairs or alone, they were greeted and shown to their assigned seat. Claire’s two Tergre, a male and a female, were the last to arrive, and she held out a hand and bowed.

  “Welcome to a vignette of Earth.”

  At least, Sage had told her that was basically what the words translated into. She'd memorized the phrase in Tergre, which was a common language on Selta, but not one she’d learned.

  As soon as the patrons were seated, the kitchen door swung open, and Francois made one of his dramatic entrances, announcing the menu options for the evening and introducing the servers.

  When he was done, the two Tergre began to study her.

  They spoke in their language, which Claire didn't even try to follow. It sounded nothing like the Merith or Spo languages.

  But after a moment of conversation, her glasses lit up.

  Translation: Colloquial Tergre to American Standard

  Blink twice to turn off.