Outcast (7 page)

She was pale skinned, her hard body covered in ropes of muscle with thick thighs and a substantial cock and balls resting in a thick black bush of hair. Softening, the penis still looked larger than what he'd felt. No breasts. Only her hair was particularly feminine, a long mass of shiny black curls, some of which were plastered to her face and neck with sweat. Catching his eye, she smiled, revealing blunt teeth a bit like his own.

"What are you?" Prez asked, when he could talk again. "And how do you know my language?"

"Let us say I am a Traveller," she said. "You are unlikely to encounter another of my kind. We are long lived, and I have come a great distance. And I have been to your world, many years ago."

"What, Akilia?"

"No," she said. "The other. Your...
home
."

He stared at her, open-mouthed. There was a banging on the door. "Time's up," the receptionist shouted. "Cleaner's coming in one minute, and another client is waiting."

So many things he wanted to ask, but no time. He looked at her penis. "You're a female...how?"

"You define female as one who produces eggs. Eggs are what I produce." She let out a chuckle that sounded like rocks grinding together. "You would not enjoy the males of my species."

Her ejaculate was starting to trickle out of his stinging ass and onto the sheet. Then he realized he had no clothes to wear. Scraps of his uniform lay around the floor. There was no point being embarrassed. "Sorry about the mess," he said and stood up. His knee was sore and his ribs and face ached.

"Everyone makes a mess." She chuckled and moved across the bed, wrapped the messy sheet around Prez's shoulders, and ruffled his hair as if he was a child. Then she opened the door with a remote control gadget that sat on the bedside table. In the dim light, Prez saw other substances spattered on the walls, but he didn't want to know what they were. The Traveller was looking at him with suddenly sorrowful eyes, and it felt as if she was staring right into his soul.

"There are many like you on the blue planet, little man," she said. "You are not as alone as you think."

The cleaner bustled in with a new set of sheets, not even looking at Prez as she picked up the tatters of his uniform and yanked the bedclothes off into a plastic bag, all the time grumbling about
so much laundry
. He considered the female's words for a moment. "Thank you," he said and limped back to reception, where the Belaari glanced up at him and pointed to a heap of folded robes in the corner.

"I forgot to mention that you should remove your clothes," she said. "Choose whatever you like from that pile."

He picked a soft summer robe that wouldn't scratch too much against his prickling skin, the ghost of the Traveller's bites still nipping at his chest and ear. Just as he turned to leave there was a commotion outside the door, the sound of shouting and grunting and thumping, then the door swing open and Lan strode in. Behind him, the bouncers were on their knees, clutching their stomachs and groaning.

"You!" Prez exclaimed, hugging the robe around his body with a sudden rush of shame.

Lan looked at him. His expression darkened for a moment, then his features settled once more into the indifferent mask he always seemed to wear. "Yes. I --
we --
were..." he searched for the word. "Concerned."

"Don't be." Prez licked at the cut on his swollen lip. "I can take care of myself."

They stared at each other for a moment, and in the dim light he forgot briefly about the Traveller as Lan's gaze travelled over his aching body. Then the Aldorian stroked a gentle finger down the side of Prez's cheek, avoiding the swollen eye, the cut lip. "I will attend to your injuries, if you wish. I am your co-pilot. It is my duty to take care of you."

Lan was standing so close Prez could smell the faint hint of the chemical shower on his hair. He pressed his hand to his cheek and watched Lan step back toward the door.
Duty
. If only Lan had said something else. Suddenly the familiar self-loathing began crawling over his skin; he felt dark and empty inside, like space itself. He looked into Lan's black eyes and saw what he imagined the Aldorian was seeing; a pathetic, beaten-up, drunken mess. Clearing his throat, he stood up as straight as he could and tried to appear nonchalant. "That's okay. I'm just going to go to sleep, I think."

"As you wish," Lan said and opened the door.

***

The next morning, Lan decided to
be
adventurous
again and lie in bed past sunrise. Of course, it was an artificial light, but the principle remained the same. He had observed the lack of urgency that other races demonstrated when it came to getting up in the morning and lay there on his side, waiting for something interesting to happen that would justify staying in bed. His eyes fell on the snoring lump under the covers on the other side of the room, and he sighed.

Prez had not spoken since their conversation at the brothel. Lan had accompanied him back to their quarters in case he went off to any more unsavory locations, secretly horrified at the condition Prez had got himself into. His body was bruised and scratched, and his mind full of a darkness that Lan couldn't understand. It was more than just shock at the news of the events on Akilia, he was sure. Mixed in with the dark feelings was a kind of grim resignation that shocked Lan even more.

When he'd seen Prez standing there, his bruised skin darkening in contrast to the yellows of that summer robe, Lan had felt an unusual impulse to
hug
. He'd managed to resist it, but barely. He squashed the temptation to analyze his abnormal behavior. Perhaps he was getting used to the ways of the
ku-tah
,
after all.

Sitting up, he watched Prez sleep for a few minutes, his gaze drifting to the swollen eye, the cut lip, the bruises on his ribs. Prez was lying on his belly, the sheet barely covering his ass. He was snoring softly, drool spreading across the pillow, his hair messy and sticking out all over the place. Not a pretty sight, but still...

The click of the clock chipped some more seconds off the day. Lan forced his attention away from the sleeping captain and decided that he'd had enough of
being
adventurous
. It was boring to lie in bed awake when there was a vast library out there to be explored, and only one day to do it. He swung his legs out of bed and reached for his robes. They smelled even worse after the fight with the Belaari bouncers, and he made a note to go shopping at some point that day. Maybe Prez would also like some new clothes, since he appeared to have lost his own.

It was a pleasant morning. He went first to sample the roasted
baba
juice in a café on the main promenade. There were not many miners about, and he was pleased. He watched the news and sipped the hot, bitter liquid. There were no updates on the situation on Akilia. Some allegations of financial backhanders in the world of Belaari politics. The results of the annual Belaar-Andra AirBall tournament. A new microscopic life form discovered on the ice moon of Andra. Normally he would have been intrigued by the last story, but the roasted
baba
juice was making his stomach feel even odder, which reminded him that he had a doctor's appointment to attend before he could unleash himself on the library, so he paid up, leaving his cup half-full on the shiny table.

The doctors' surgery was a bright and well-lit office just a short stroll away from the café. A Belaari miner was sitting in the corner, nursing a burnt hand and looking sorry for herself. The receptionist stared at Lan as if he was an interesting specimen in a laboratory. "Aldorian," she said. "We don't get many of your kind around here. Never mind. Doctor Gerha is ready for you. Third room on the left."

"Thank you," Lan said and went to the door, slightly nervous. He had never been to a doctor before, and doubted that it would prove fruitful. Still, it would be good to rid himself of this feeling of nausea, so he knocked and went in.

"Oh yes, the Aldorian!" The doctor seemed beside herself with excitement, grinning widely and revealing her sharp teeth. "We don't get many of your kind around here."

"No," Lan said and sighed. How many times had he heard that already? He sat on the examination table and described his symptoms and rubbed his belly, then sat back expectantly.

The doctor put on a pair of glasses and pulled out a cuff from a drawer. "I'll give you a once over first," she said. "If you don't mind. Haven't had the chance to examine an Aldorian since I was at medical school. Very exciting."

She took his temperature and measured his blood pressure, both of which tests were pointless since Lan was largely able to control them himself. But he said nothing as she looked in his ears, made him follow her fingers with both his eyes, and walk along a thin line on the floor. "Nothing wrong with your balance," she said.

"No," Lan said.

"Do you mind popping your clothes off?"

"No." The robes slid to the floor, and she stared at his body until he felt like running from the room.

"Not mated, I see."

"No."

She reached her thick hand over and prodded his stomach. "Pain?"

"No."

Then the hand descended to his crotch, and squeezed. "Pain?"

Lan's head swam for a second. "Yes."

She listened to his heart and poked and prodded a few more areas of his body before sitting back down at her desk. "What am I thinking?" she said.

He considered her question. As far as he knew, Belaari were not telepaths, so he should not have been able to the impression of more than a basic emotion, if that. Still, when he concentrated hard, the back of his brain began to tingle and he saw an image of a small blue bird; Belaar's AirBall team mascot. "You are amused," he concluded, picking up the figure from the desk and turning it over in his hands. "Why?"

"Well," she said, a smile spreading over her face. "I'm no expert on Aldorian physiology, of course. But you have heightened telepathic ability, pain in areas where none should manifest, and a slight hint of nausea. Does that sum it up?"

"I suppose so."

"In that case, there's nothing I can do for you."

 
"Why? Am I dying?"

She laughed. "
Salah
, you are in love. Your body is getting ready for -- what do you call it on Aldor? The Binding. Congratulations, by the way."

Lan stared at her, aghast. "I do not believe you."

"Well, if you want a second opinion, I can arrange a HoloLink consultation with the nearest Aldorian doctor." She clicked at her computer and scanned the screen with her violet eyes. "Should take a couple of weeks."

"That will not be necessary." Lan pulled his robes back on. His hands were shaking so much he could hardly tie the straps. He saw the doctor wrap her coat about her body, her breath starting to cloud. Despite the sudden cold, she grinned again.

 
"Loss of temperature control," she said. "Another classic symptom. I'm surprised you don't know any of this."

Thoroughly humiliated, Lan said nothing and went out to the reception. He leant against the wall and covered his face with his hands. No, no,
no
.

It couldn't be true. The doctor was, as she herself admitted, no expert. For one crazy moment, he considered packing in his job and going home to see a real doctor, one who could cure him. But then he remembered that he had no money and that even if he had, a return to Aldor might be very risky indeed. He wandered along the promenade toward the garden at the end and sat on a bench, staring at the ground, seeing nothing.

He felt a heavy weight shifting onto the bench beside him. One of the Belaari miners, he assumed. Her eyes were dark with makeup and she smiled. He shivered at the feeling he got from her. It was dark and shrewd and dripped in his mind like oil.

"You look like you could use some company," she said.

It was all he could do to stop himself from throwing her off the bench. "You may need to have your eyes tested," he said. "I do not wish to
use some company
."

She shrugged. "Well, if you do, I know a
laar
who runs a place..."

He held up his hand. "Enough."

She gave him a withering look and stood up. "
Felah
," she said and walked off.

Freak
. Lan stared miserably ahead. The Elders always said love was a wonderful feeling like no other, but right at that moment, he felt like leaning over and throwing up on the beautifully-tended patch of lawn. It couldn't be true. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt wonderful. He curled up on the bench and let the hushing sound of the fountain soothe his mind, as if he could wash the terrible -- and untrue -- diagnosis away.

Chapter Five

Prez did not wake up properly until the morning of the meeting with Kai. His stomach roaring with hunger, he gingerly swung his legs out of bed. His body ached and throbbed everywhere, and it hurt to sit down.

Lan was already dressed and ready, his face impassive. He was wearing new clothes, a plain navy robe that came to just above his knees, with a light blue undersuit and knee-high black boots. Not particularly fashionable, but the clothes fitted better than what he'd been wearing before and the colors suited him well. But Prez had the feeling that something was terribly wrong. There was something defeated about Lan's posture, a slight weariness about his movement, a dullness in his eyes. "Is something wrong?" Prez asked, pulling the medical kit out from his bag.

"No," Lan said.

"You seem... troubled."

"I am... not."

There was a tube of InstaCalm in the kit, and Prez rubbed some of it on his lip and eyelid, relieved. It would take the swelling away in no time, so he would not look like a gargoyle for the meeting with Kai, who was apparently an important Belaari. He gulped down a couple of painkillers and stood up, wincing at the sting in his ass. "Do you mind looking in the other direction?"

Lan turned his back while Prez did the necessary with the last squirt of the cream and then pulled on a fresh uniform. He splashed some water round his face to shake the cobwebs from his brain and threw his things into his bag. "Ready," he said. Lan did not reply. The co-pilot seemed to be sleepwalking, dragging his heels on the shiny floor, shoulders slumped as they walked slowly along the promenade. Prez watched him out of the corner of his eye, wondering what to say. He stopped off at a café to buy a breakfast roll and a carton of roasted
baba
juice, and gulped the lot down in under a minute. When his belly was full, he felt a lot better. He smiled at Lan. "Aren't you eating anything?"

"No." Lan said.

"Something's wrong, Lan."

"Nothing is wrong."

"Well, you aren't your usual jolly self." Prez scoured the Aldorian's features for clues, but they were as unreadable as ever.

There was a silence as Lan studied his feet. "We are late."

"Kin-tah! Let's move then." Prez gave up with a sigh. Maybe Lan would come out with it in his own good time, whatever it was. Walking faster, they made their way to the elevators and descended to the docking area. It was hot and busy. The workers were preparing for the arrival of the intergalactic cruiser that was scheduled to dock in the next few days, and Prez felt a pang of regret that they would be on their way before it arrived. It was a dream of his to see such a ship up close. He'd rented a small office at the edge of the dock as Kai had instructed, and he pointed over to the doorway where a tall Belaari in a conical hat was waiting with a sheaf of papers in her hand, looking at her watch and glaring around as if daring someone to approach.

 
"Get ready for all the last minute conditions," he muttered to Lan and walked over. "Kai no Heh?"

She scowled. "
Heh
is a term of address denoting a secretary. I am Kai." She held out her hand and grasped his in a bone-crushing shake. "You must be Captain Prez of the
Outcast
, whom my government has seen fit to...
employ
." Her lips curled with contempt. But Prez was used to Belaari manners, and while she seemed ruder than most, it was not hard to handle.

"Yes," he said. "I am looking forward to it."

She looked down at him imperiously. "But you are
ku-tah
," she said. " So weak, you cannot even lift the crate of my personal effects. How can I trust you to navigate that...
bucket
... across the asteroid belt, when even my own kind find it difficult?"

Prez felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. "I've never had any complaints," he said. "Done that route hundreds of times. You can check it from the ship's records if you don't believe me, but I assume your government has already done that."

She looked out at the
Outcast
and exhaled a huge gust of air. "
Meha
," she said, and there was a buzz in Prez's head as the chip struggled with the word. A couple of seconds later, he heard the tinny voice in his mind.
A four-legged beast known for its odorific faeces.

He bit his thumb, trying not to smile. Maybe when he had the payout for this deal he could get another chip that actually worked. Or better still, a synthetic brain graft that would increase his capacity for language beyond that of most, so there would be no more humiliating mistranslations. He shivered despite the steamy temperature in the dock and wondered if he was getting sick.

Lan stood beside him, expressionless, reading through the duplicate documents he carried. He seemed oblivious to the stares he was attracting from the dock workers; some curious, some distasteful, some downright lecherous. Prez moved slightly toward Kai, to shield Lan from the bright eyes of the workers. They could gawp at him instead; he was well used to it.

"I wonder,
Gelha
Kai, " Lan said, and again there was a second's delay before Prez heard the word
majesty
buzzing in his head. "Why you have chosen to carry such important... cargo... on a mere shuttle such as ours."

She smiled, exposing sharp teeth. "Your form of address is correct, Aldorian. However it is inappropriate to use in this..." she waved a hand dismissively around her, "
work yard
. You may address me as Kai."

"If the topic is a sensitive one then let us go into the office." Lan's voice was deep and quiet. It made the chip in Prez's head hum, as if there was more to his words that it could not make sense of. He had not heard Lan speaking Belaari before, and was jealous of his co-pilot's seemingly-flawless command of a language that had long since defeated him.

As the door swished shut behind them, Kai spoke again. "It is unusual to see your kind off-planet," she said to Lan.

"Yes."

She eyed him as if waiting for elaboration, then turned to Prez and folded her arms "Let us discuss the... cargo."

Down to business. That was more like it. Prez rubbed his hands together, trying to warm the sudden chill out of his fingertips. He put the documents on the table and pulled out a chair for Kai before sitting down behind the desk, wincing at the twinge in his ass. He looked up at the blinking temperature control machine. "I guess it's broken," he said. "It's freezing in here."

Kai looked at him, then at Lan. "You are aware of very little,
ku-tah
," she said, and he stared at her, puzzled. He felt the weight of the violet stare fall on his hands, and folded them together to give her a better look. The word prompted a barrage of insults from the chip --
half-breed, aberration, mutant
. Bizarrely, he didn't mind so much when Belaari addressed him with the term; they looked down upon everyone without discrimination.

Kai sat in the chair, glancing about with her nose wrinkling as if she was in a particularly rancid dock toilet. "As stated in the contract, the cargo is to be delivered untouched," she said. "You will not look upon it, and you will accept my guards at its quarters. They are
melah
. They will be stationed outside. They do not sleep, or require food, so their costs will be minimal."

Prez's head was starting to feel light with the effort of understanding the conversation.
Melah
. Constructed. "You mean androids?" he said, feeling his teeth start to chatter.

Again, a flash of sharp teeth. "They are much more sophisticated than your
androids
," Kai said. "They are necessary. Your own crew will not be permitted to go near the cargo. For their own protection. The quarters will be locked until our arrival at Galahen. As
kaloha
, I will see to the cargo's removal personally."

Prez raised an eyebrow. Escort? What sort of cargo needed to be escorted? Or sequestered in quarters, for that matter? The inventory was long and detailed. The journey would take at least three weeks, maybe less. His eye fell on the solitary item that he could not understand.
Kahalia
. This had to be... whatever it was. He felt the nibble of worry. What if it was, indeed, something dangerous or illegal? Then he shook himself. Lan had addressed the woman as
majesty
. Her high position in society was plain from the way she carried herself. The blandly colored robes she wore as a disguise of sorts seemed to highlight her status rather than hide it.

Hardly the sort of person to be smuggling dangerous cargo, but then again, this was space, where anything could happen. He reminded himself of the vast sum of money Kai was going to pay and scanned the inventory again, of all the things the workers had been loading onto the
Outcast
. It seemed longer than the original one, but he'd expected that and said nothing.

"Well," he said eventually. "Everything seems in order. Once they've finished refueling the ship, we'll be good to go whenever you like."

Kai stood up. "In that case, I will board at 06:00 tomorrow morning. Good day to you." She looked at Lan and held out her hand. Lan started to bow his forehead toward it, and she pulled it away, laughing so loud the windows almost shook.

"Your co-pilot is aware of much," she said.

Prez looked at Lan, surprised. He had never seen a Belaari laugh like that before. Had he missed a joke somewhere?

"Okay then, Kai," he said. "We'll see you in the morning."

She fixed him with an amused stare. "It is not the temperature control that is
menakeh
," she said, laughing again. The chip buzzed again, and he felt the beginnings of a headache as it tried to translate Kai's final word.
Suffering
. What was she talking about? Another obscure Belaari metaphor, no doubt. He shook his head as Kai swept out of the office. Not for the first time, he wished he'd just stuck to hiring interpreters, expensive as they were.

"Well," he said, turning to Lan who was staring after her, a stricken look on his face. Prez gaped at him, forgetting what he was going to say. "Lan, what's wrong?" He felt sweat running down his back, and yet he was suddenly so cold, he shivered violently, his skin breaking out in goose bumps.

The Aldorian's face settled back into its bland expression, dark eyes half closed, the purplish skin almost black in the dim light of the office. "If there is no more business, I will go to the shopping area," he said, tucking some documents in to the small satchel he always carried. "I have heard of an exotic wildlife dealer there who can supply us with Glatian flies and ticks. For Flack. It will be a long journey and perhaps if he is well fed, he will not make so many webs."

Prez stared after him as he went out of the office, across the dock, disappearing through a door. He thought back to the encounter with Kai.
You are aware of very little
. Why was Lan
aware of
much
and he wasn't? He was starting to feel warm again, and relaxed into the chair, closing his eyes as the pain in his head started to ease in the quiet room.

***

Lan walked along the corridor through the throngs of travelers, deep in thought, detached from the bump and jostle of bodies around him as they parted in front of him. No one ever touched him, and he was glad. He felt their curiosity and interest, and thought of Prez. How could someone spend so much time in the company of so many different races, and be so clueless?

Even without his apparently heightened telepathic ability, Lan would have known that Kai was royalty from her demeanor alone. Unlike Prez, he read and watched the interstellar news regularly. He had found out, for instance, that the Belaari were gearing up for a massive celebration for the return of the
Kahalia
, the princess-in-exile, who would provide a new heir to the ruling family. The official carrier of the princess was due to leave the nearby moon -- where she had grown up -- the following day. He guessed that it was a decoy for the princess's safety, likely to be one of many. No potential assassins would possibly believe she would be travelling on a mere cargo shuttle, especially one piloted by
ku-tah
.

In the course of his reading Lan had learned that, unlike most races, the Belaari required three to produce offspring. There was the
suho
, the bearer, which normally lived in guarded compounds apart from the others. They had little intelligence and few desires, but they were happy and cheerful and knew their place in the universe. For a second he felt envious, then shook himself and continued walking.

Then there were the
laar
. Most other races assumed they were females, though biologically, they weren't. Kai was one of them. Intelligent and formidable, tall and powerful. Kai had called herself
kaloha
, which Lan knew meant
companion
or
mate
. The princess-in-exile would be
suho
and Kai was likely to be the second party in the production of the royal heir.
It was the third party that was technically the most interesting of all. It could be any individual of any race, whose input would somehow be absorbed into the mystery of Belaari genetics. The actual process of their mating was rarely spoken about and had never been documented, as Belaar was off-limits to all alien visitors save the most senior of diplomatic officials.