Captivate (Alien Cadets Book 2) Page 8

  “Um, yes. I’m human.”

  Claire was fairly certain there were no Crosspoint crew. It was all Merith and Spo that she’d seen, except for her, of course. This Crosspoint must be a passenger then, not crew.

  “Ahhh,” he said. “The Human. The Diarena thought I might like to have a conversation with you.” He spoke Spo in a quiet, polite voice. Not the way Spo was usually spoken.

  “Why?” Claire asked warily. “Who are you?”

  “I am Sub-Council Member Gratia of Empter. I am a temporary guest of the Diarena.”

  Claire processed for a second. “A Sub-Council... are you a member of the Galactic Council then?”

  The Council was a big, crazy deal in the galaxy, Claire knew that much. And their members weren’t just hanging out everywhere. Faal was a prestigious member of the Council, so she’d actually met a few who visited him at the zoo. ‘Met,’ being a euphemism for being stared at inside a cage.

  “I have the honor to be the Second Junior Representative of the Crosspointers of Empter to the Galactic Council.” There was a note of quite humor in his voice. “We are not so prestigious as the Crosspointers of Cross, so there is no need to bow.”

  Claire had indeed begun an awkward bow, as she’d seen some Merith do before Faal; so she stopped. “Were you at the human sentience trial?”

  “I was not a voting party, but I did observe it. Thus my interest in humans, you see. I was most surprised when the Diarena told me she was employing one.”

  “I have been trying to return to Earth. If you could tell me how to do that –”

  “But this is not a comfortable place for talking, is it?” He gestured at the tables and the other crew who were watching them.

  “If you please, come to my cabin when your meal is over and we may speak at leisure.” He glided smoothly away, with most of the crew watching.

  Claire asked her crew boss, who she’d found out was actually called Kitteh, not Kitten, about the Crosspoint before she left the room.

  “The Diarena told me to stay out of her way, and not to speak to the guests. But he came and found me. What should I do?”

  “The Crosspoint are peaceable, you may visit if you wish.” Kitteh cocked her head to one side. “What was his name?”

  “Um... something Gratia. He’s a Council member from Empter.”

  Kitteh frowned. “It should be fine. However, I would warn you that Crosspointers are...devious. They are telekinetic, they can move physical things, but it is said they can move minds as well. The Pontifex never allows Crosspoint in his palace, and the Diarena rarely has them as guests.”

  With that pleasant thought in mind, Claire went to his room.

  She left the service corridor at the nearest junction (after checking a map), and stood nervously at the door.

  She raised her hand to place her palm on the plate, but it opened before she made contact.

  “Come in, Human! Come in. I’ve made the atmosphere cooler for your enjoyment. Is it correct?”

  It did feel nice as Claire entered. Much of the ship was kept warm, maybe 80 or 85 degrees, but the air felt cool and moist in here. “It’s very nice, thanks.”

  “Ah, good. I’ve been doing my reading, you see, on Earth and Humans.”

  Claire followed him into the room. There was a central space, like a living room, Claire supposed, but instead of chairs or cushions it had shells. Large, spiral shells like – “Snails!” Claire exclaimed.

  “Oh yes, quite,” he said, backing into one and settling in comfortably. The other shells looked empty but the walls were opaque so she wasn’t quite sure.

  “No, no, it’s just me," he said, guessing her thoughts. "These are for guests, but for you I have a chair.”

  Claire looked around, not seeing a chair. There was a food synthesizer and a door to the sleeping room. A strange rug lay on the floor, silky and cool, and a Spo deathglass hung on one wall, green with mottled orange on the edges. No chair.

  “Oh, I forgot,” he said. A simple folding chair zoomed out of the bedroom door and settled itself a few feet away from the shells.

  Claire had already known the Crosspoint were teleporters, but it was still startling to see them occasionally hurl something across the room.

  The first time she’d seen a Crosspoint, she’d been seventeen, and she and the other kids were waiting in a huge Spo gymnasium. It had only been a month since she’d had her first space flight (delivering them at the Spo facilities), and only a month from when she’d last seen her parents.

  Three cohorts of cadets had been gathered for the display, so three hundred human kids had been milling around, trying to see if by some crazy miracle there was someone they knew in the crowd. Most of them spoke English, but there’d been clumps of Chinese, Korean, and Russian kids babbling in their language.

  Claire had milled about with the others, looking into faces and away, hoping against hope to see a friend, and feeling terribly guilty for wishing this nightmare on a friend.

  She’d been staring at a guy who looked vaguely familiar when she realized everyone was falling silent. They were all gazing straight up like they’d gone into some kind of trance. Claire was always two seconds behind. She finally saw it, four purple globes the size of basketballs looping and spinning through the air in a rhythmic dance. They spun faster and faster, leaving light trails like sparklers on Fourth of July.

  Amid oohs and ahs, the globes suddenly fell towards the crowd. Claire instinctively ducked with everyone else, but of course the globes froze inches above them. Slowly they trailed toward the double doors where they hovered over four giant slugs, Crosspointers.

  “Meet the Crosspoint,” said one of the Spo teachers. “Next week we will introduce you to the Merith, then the Vel, and Tergre. The Crosspoint have useful skills, and have been our allies for generations. You must learn the capabilities and weaknesses of all the species in the Council to be effective representatives.”

  The Crosspointers glided to the center of the gymnasium, and as they spoke, the globes bobbed and weaved restlessly

  “We are Crosspoint. We have no written language, no hands, no feet...yet we are ranked a Level 7 culture in the Council. Earth’s bountiful cultures will do you no benefit, and indeed much harm, if you do not know how to trade your culture effectively with other species.”

  The globes began to spin again, at first aimlessly, then slowly forming a gyroscope pattern five feet above the aliens’ heads.

  “For instance, the Spo have asked us for a favor. To mark all of you as Spo cadets, you will receive a badge of security...”

  The Crosspoint fell silent, and Claire felt heat on her cheek. Hot, hot, hotter –

  “Ow!” Claire said, clapping a hand to her face. All the kids in the room were grabbing their faces, some doubled over, some dancing around in panic.

  Then it stopped. A wash of coolness swept down her face and settled in her stomach, like she’d chugged a glass of ice water.

  All the other kids were slowly returning to normal, but all staring at each other – staring at the bold tattoos they all sported on their left cheek. On the paler teenagers, mostly Asian and American, the tattoo was a vivid black. On the ones with darker skin, from the very dark Africans to the medium ones like Claire, the tattoo was a stark white. Claire had stroked her own cheek with her fingertips; it felt normal, smooth, but surely she had one too.

  It was funny, really. No one could see their own face, of course, only everyone else’s, and no one could quite believe they had the tattoo as well. There was a lot of twisting and squinting as everyone tried to look at their own cheek.

  “The Crosspoint have subtle telekinetic and telepathic skills, down to the cellular level...”

  The lecture had been much less interesting than that first display. “So you wanted to speak to me?" Claire asked this Crosspoint, seating herself.

  “Indeed. I have spoken with several Rik, but not yet with a human.”

  “Everyone keeps saying that. Are the
re so many Rik?”

  The Crosspoint paused and stared at her, searchingly. "You don't know the Rik relationship to Earth?"

  "No. All I know is the trial's over and somehow we ended up sponsoring the Rik, whoever they are.”

  "Hm. Yes. You would be interested to know then, that it was discovered that the Rik perpetrated the Big Hadron event that precipitated Earth’s trial. It was a ploy to discredit humanity and give the Rik a chance to move in."

  Claire gaped. "The Hadron - it wasn't us? We all believed it was terrorists..."

  He gave her a moment to process, but then broke in.

  "Since I do have the joy of meeting a human on my travels, most unexpectedly I must repeat, as the Spo have kept Earth locked down for seven years, I have several questions I would like to ask you.”

  Claire shifted uncertainly on her chair. “I’m not sure how much I can help you. I haven't been on Earth in a while."

  A rope suddenly slithered out of the nearest shell and tethered Claire to her chair, firmly wrapping around her torso, just below her breast, and around her arms and thighs.

  “What are you doing?” Claire tried to wriggle free, but she’d taken a moment too long and the rope was tight. All she managed to do was tip the chair forward, and she yelped in anticipation of face-planting on the floor...

  But the chair froze. She was halfway to the ground, at a forty-five degree angle. Slowly the chair righted itself, from two legs to four, and she felt it when the telekinetic force of the Crosspoint let go and the chair rocked back slightly.

  Her position: tied to a chair, unexpectedly helpless, sent Claire into a flashback.

  It was in Faal's zoo, at some point during the days when she'd lost track of time. She'd been tied to a chair for Faal's visit. That alone wasn't unusual, he never trusted new acquisitions and insisted on having them securely tied up for his visits. Particularly ones with opposable thumbs.

  He'd stood in front of her, politely offering two flasks. "Now that you are familiar with the effects of this particular drug," he shook the flask on the right, "And after I explain the side effects of this particular Melifleuran secretion," he shook the flask on the left, "You get to choose which to take today."

  Claire had just waited, knowing he would want to expound more before he actually made her choose.

  "You see, it is very hard to understand the evolutionary values of a given species by asking direct questions of the subject. You do not know the answers yourself, so your response could only consist of what you think I want to hear, or some interpretation of your own ignorance.

  "I want neither of those, so I have developed a series of psychological tests that require no explanation on the subject's part, merely a choice. The first choice is one that juxtaposes the mind and the body. The Melifleur are a tree-like species, somewhat new to the Council, and one of their only interesting cultural offerings is this hallucinogenic drug. It could render you crazy, but most likely will only confuse your electrical processes for a few days."

  Claire already knew what the other one would do. They'd given it to her originally to save her life, when she had a bad reaction to a non-human food. It had made her vilely sick for several days, but counteracted the poisons she’d reacted to. If she took it again, she would be sick again.

  Faal continued. "So the choice, as I said, is between body or mind. Sickness or madness?"

  Claire didn’t immediately answer, and Faal rephrased his question. “What would she have chosen?”

  She could have spit at him. He’d learned of Jenelle’s death from the Spo who sold her, and he’d quickly realized that she felt guilty about it. He’d even questioned her about it while she was on another of his drugs that made her very drowsy and honest. He’d explained that it was an interesting insight into the human subconscious. “Your first decision to give up the girl was correct - it was survival and survival is sanity. But your psyche appears to value selflessness and now punishes you for the attempt to survive. I wonder if it is because you failed, or whether you would have been tormented that way regardless.”

  Since then, he’d taken to questioning her about both herself and Jenelle. Claire nodded tiredly toward the flask on the right. No matter what happened, she would not go mad. Her stomach was already protesting the decision.

  That day she had chosen well, but she’d wondered how long it would last. She knew more days were coming when she’d be too tired or too ill or too crazy to be strong.

  Faal moved toward her with the flask and Claire shook her head. “You already did this one. You must be slipping.”

  But then... this wasn't Faal in front of her. She shook her head, confused. This wasn't even a Merith, it was a Crosspoint. "She got away, you can’t make her choose anymore.”

  The Crosspoint stared at her calmly. "Are you mentally ill?"

  Claire closed her eyes, reality reasserting itself. Of course, she was not in Faal's zoo any longer. She was on Final Say, with the little Crosspoint she'd met in the dining room. “I’m not ill. I might be a little broken.”

  “And why, do you think -”

  But Claire’s mind was rapidly clearing. This was not the zoo. She had rights here. “I am an employee on this ship. How dare you tie me up? The Diarena will notice if I don’t appear.” Claire spoke as collectedly as she could. "Why have you done this? Do you work for Faal? Are you going to take me back to him?”

  “Now that is an interesting question," he said. "I do not work for Faal. Do you? I have heard that he has Rik employees.” His voice was still calm and polite and Claire was completely confused.

  “I don’t work for Faal, I hate him! He’s had her - I mean, me - locked up in his zoo for years. And I am not Rik, I’m human. But you know that. Why have you tied me up?”

  “I do not like liars.” While his voice was still soft, Claire noticed that several objects in the room shuddered slightly with his words. The deathglass clinked against the wall; the cover of the food synthesizer clicked. “Nor does the Diarena. She requested that I join her for this trip and get the truth from you.”

  “But I’m not a liar.” A note of begging crept into her voice, and she stopped herself from saying more.

  “You are a human? No. The humans are on Earth and the human cadets are on Spo. Humans are not journeying through the galaxy on cruise ships. However, I have met several Rik in human bodies, and they are everywhere."

  "But –”

  "And they are all liars. The mere act of taking a body is not necessarily a lie, but the pretense is, and I do not like pretense.” He slid out of the shell he was in to get closer to Claire. “This tattoo on your cheek, it is the Spo cadet mark.”

  “Yes, it is. I was in the Spo training program. I got it there.”

  “I know. Which means you are a Rik who stole a cadet’s body.”

  “No, it doesn't!” Claire looked into his beady little eyes - no longer cute. “And if you hate lying, how do you feel about tricking me in here, pretending to be kind and interested in me?”

  The Crosspoint closed his eyes for a moment, but she sensed his full attention was still fastened on her, she could almost feel it.

  Claire ran through her mental list of betrayers: first her mentor, who’d sold her to Faal, then Faal himself, of course. Next was his zookeeper, who'd pretended to be sympathetic, but in actuality was completely devoted to Faal and reported all her first escape attempts...

  “I don’t like lying either,” Claire said. Her voice was as cold as the Crosspoint's had been.

  He opened his eyes. “Now that was interesting. I recognized several species in your thoughts and a stab of emotion as clear as lightning. You do hate lying.”

  The rope around her thighs loosened, though the part around her chest held tight.

  “I admit, the Diarena thought there was a decent chance you were human. She would not have taken you otherwise, she despises the Rik.”

  “Can you read minds?” Claire asked.

  “A little. And I’ve not us
ually felt such anger from a Rik. Perhaps that is human.”

  “I am human.”

  “Hmm. And sincerity. Certainly not a Rik trait in general.”

  “Where would you take me if I was a Rik?” Claire asked, thinking of a new possibility. “Take me with you. Even if you think I’m Rik, I’ll go with you. Someone on the Council will realize I’m human and take me home.” Her voice broke slightly. This was not the way she would choose, to go home a captive once more, but just the idea of home was enough to give her hope. Maybe this was a chance in disguise.

  “I would take you to the Spo embassy on Selta where you'd be shipped back to the Rik planet with the others. No humans involved."

  The force of her disappointment was severe, and he abruptly glided backward a few feet. “Very disappointed? Yes, I see.”

  The rope released her, coiled itself neatly, and flew to a locker in the eating area.

  “I believe you,” he said. “You are human.”

  “Yes, I know.” Claire stood up from the chair. “There had to be another way to find out.”

  “Perhaps, but I do not apologize for the rope. We had to know.”

  Those words got to Claire. How many times had Faal made her choose in one of his stupid tests, and then said, "I had to know.”

  Claire narrowly resisted the urge to spit on the Crosspoint's bulbous tail, to show him what she thought of that. Then she changed her mind, why should she resist? She spit on the floor at his feet, or where his feet would have been, if he had them.

  “I don’t apologize for that, either,” Claire said. “Stay away from me.”

  CHAPTER 10

  Claire couldn’t seem to avoid the little Crosspoint during her next week on the ship.

  She mostly worked in the dining hall and service areas during the quiet hours of the day, polishing goblets and washing clothing by hand. She knew there were more efficient ways to do all these things, but apparently the highest Merith classes preferred the simplicity of manual labor. That was lucky for her, since that kind of work could be taught to anyone (with opposable thumbs) and didn’t require much education. She occasionally saw the Diarena from afar, but Claire didn’t try to speak with her. If the Diarena truly brought the Crosspoint on board merely to ascertain whether she was lying, Claire didn’t want to push her any further. There were at least fifty other guests on board, with their personal servants, plus all the regular ship crew, so usually Claire was able to keep a low profile.