Bashar nodded. “I’ve met the Director of the Information Network System. How is Trace?”
A sigh escaped Richard. “He’s had a lot to handle in a short period of time. None of us were prepared for the death of my father. Nor did we anticipate so many crises would erupt after he handed over the reins to Trace.”
Bashar said, “Too much has happened, and the weather hasn’t settled yet.” He looked at the next person.
“Please meet Mika Sojourn.” Richard acknowledged a tall, well-shaped person dressed in a black jacket and pants.
Well, that outfit won't last long here in my desert.
Short-cropped dark hair indicated neither male nor female. Bashar wasn’t sure what gender this person possessed. “A pleasure to meet you.” Bashar bowed briefly. Not too deeply, as his rank no longer required the deep bow of low status. He tried to glean her thoughts, but like all Terrans, the mind remained blank to him.
“Mika was one of Elise’s most trusted bodyguards.”
“I still am.” The guard straightened in indignation.
The soft contralto voice and subtle curves suggested female, so Bashar went with that. He slid his gaze to the final figure in the group. No doubt there. The tall, muscular male grinned at him and extended his hand for a firm shake.
“I’m Trajan Merek. Most call me Merek.”
“Welcome to my home, Merek.” Bashar gestured for them to sit. “Welcome, everyone.”
A drink appeared at his elbow. Bashar grasped it eagerly. “Drink up or this desert will dry you out.”
Plates of fruits, cheeses, meats, and breads appeared on the tables as servants scurried about filling glasses.
Bashar leaned forward to pick up a grape. “You indicated that you want an introduction to Khalib Allfyre?”
“Allfyre?” Richard groaned. “No relation to J’Tahad Allfyre, I hope?”
Bashar detected alarm in his guest’s voice and remembered that J’Tahad was the smuggler whose wild crystal operation Richard had closed down not so long ago.
He shrugged. “An uncle. Khalib moved here from the Sunglast recently. Rumor has it that he’s filthy rich from illicit trafficking and wants to avoid any investigation by the Democratic Union. You may have already met him.”
“No, and don’t mention my involvement with his relative. If Khalib finds out, we might have trouble.”
“It might not be so bad. Families often disagree, and he might not care what happened. Rather more of the family spoils for him as I understand the situation.”
However, Bashar sensed Richard’s disbelief in that argument, so he said, “Too late to back out. I’ve already arranged our visit to Khalib’s due to your request. The caravan is ready. Ten lompir will travel with us, one for each to ride, plus handlers and servants. We also have two litters and a supply cart.”
Richard put down his glass, agitated. “A caravan? Can’t we take a van or a more modern form transportation?”
Bashar sensed agitation roiling within his guest. “No. The desert sand breaks down mechanical vehicles. Besides, Allfyre would expect a large caravan to greet him.”
“A caravan!” Richard rubbed his face. “We have to ride lompir?”
No doubt about it, Richard was panicking.
Chapter 3
Caravan
As it turned out, Merek soon learned the lompir were like a cross between a Terran horse and a camel. They had the elongated, ugly face of a camel and the temperament to match, while the barrel-shaped body more resembled a horse. Splayed feet enabled them to traverse sand easily, and they retained water almost as well as their counterpart.
After Merek climbed awkwardly onboard, the beast made an attempt to grab the bit and take control, causing the Terran guard to almost lose his seat. In addition, his host, Bashar, insisted he wear a white flowing robe with headgear that flapped in the swirling gusts. He could barely see where he was going. When the creature tried a second time for control. Merek gripped the reins harder, yanked the recalcitrant head around, and kicked the animal’s sides.
Across the way, Bashar circled his arms over his head to signal that Merek should turn the beast toward him in the direction they hoped to get the caravan going.
“Fricking, fragging, piece of dung,” muttered Merek.
Solanje rode up and leaned toward him. “Her name’s Matilda. You need to treat her with kindness. Calm your thoughts. The animal can sense your agitation.”
Appalled, he gaped at the woman. “You’re not going, are you? This trip is much too strenuous for a woman in your condition.”
“Oh Fate, you sound like Bashar. Men are so controlling, especially with bodies other than their own. My mother traveled across the Hydraline Sea and dealt with hostile strangers ‘in my condition,’ as you call it, but no, I’m just helping Bashar get this disaster underway.”
She sidled her lompir closer and handed him a plastic bag with white squares inside. “Here. Matilda has a sweet tooth. If you want her to behave, reward her with something nice. Don’t you know how to handle a female? Sweet words and deeds always work better than slapping and cursing.”
At that comment, the female under discussion bawled a retort and turned her grotesque face toward him. Solanje popped a sugar cube in its mouth, and the lompir eyed him thoughtfully while it eagerly chewed. Noticing the transfer of possession of the sugar bag to his hands, and after some thought, she lumbered forward at his urging.
Seeing he had Matilda in hand, Solanje left him to turn her attention elsewhere. He calmed his thoughts, searched for Richard, and found him loitering near the courtyard gate. They had decided, at the last minute, to leave Richard behind. Khalib wasn’t a stupid man. He most likely knew about Richard and his involvement in bringing down the wild crystal smuggling operation. Also, he was aware of Richard’s connection with the space station. The nomad, knowing he had purchased the Terran women illegally, might guess his visitor’s true intent. That made Richard too big a risk to take along, so they had decided he should stay back, much to Richard’s disappointment.
They developed a cover story that Bashar was welcoming his new neighbor, and distant relative, from the Sunglast to the Ching T’Karre. Evidently, that was true. Many desert nomads were leaving the now wetter Sunglast and settling in the more familiar, evolving-to-desert Ching T’Karre. Two of Bashar’s prized lompir were included in the caravan as a welcome gift for Khalib. Their friend would also introduce him to Deuce Card, an influential executive in I.N.Sys, who had the ability to pull strings back in the Democratic Union if Khalib ran into trouble due to any investigation of crystal. Possibly true. Everything was to be all sociable and friendly-like. Hopefully true. But only if they could get the Terrans returned safely. Fingers crossed.
The caravan included two of Bashar’s supposed wives, a couple of lompir handlers, servants to transport cargo, and an attendant for the wives. Deuce went as an honored guest while Merek assumed the role of Bashar’s personal guard. It was a role he’d played often for Commander Fujeint. However, he was surprised to learn about the wives, and even more surprised at how calmly Solanje appeared to accept the arrangement. Somehow, he hadn’t figured her for sharing, but it was none of his business. Alysians did things differently, and their customs were not his.
Just then, the closed litter appeared, supported by two lompir. Inside were the wives and an attendant, but since he couldn’t spot Mika anywhere else, he suspected she might be posing as one of the wives. The ruse had occurred to him.
Deuce was up at the head of the herd with Bashar, looking at ease on his lompir. Evidently, an I.N.Sys agent possessed many talents, including the ability to ride a lompir. Once the agent’s unruly ash brown hair got tucked under a wrap, Deuce’s cinnamon colored skin could almost pass for Ching T’Karre, and possibly, he had a bit in his bloodline. A lot about Deuce’s genetics remained in question. Even so, he was taller and far more angular than the average Ching T’Karre native. Still, he blended in well.
Bashar twirle
d his mount around, raised his hand, and chopping it forward, shouted, “Forward ho.”
Lompir bawled, men shouted, sand swirled, and the journey began.
***
High noon brought the caravan to a watering hole, shaded by wide-leafed palm trees and next to jumbled boulders that formed a protective shelter. So far, the trek had been hot, boring, and uncomfortable with endless sand and dust.
Merek fingered inside a pocket of his robe, causing Matilda’s head to swing around and her lips to pucker out. “Now Matilda, I have a treat but only if you behave and let me off with grace.” Ears perked forward, and the nose quivered. The lompir’s head jerked up and down, causing her harness’ bells to jangle. Satisfied at that response, Merek laid the cube in a flat palm and delicate lips swiftly vacuumed it up.
Finally, out of the brutal seat, Merek gave out a groan. Secretly augmented muscles, enhanced vision, and increased reaction time hadn’t helped a backside not used to riding across a desert on a lompir. Not to mention, Alysia’s increased gravity was taking a toll on his poor Terran body.
The once organized caravan that had traveled docilely along the designated route for hours, now erupted into chaos. Animals bawled for water, harnesses jangled, while men shouted at each other and their beasts. Men jostled each other for a spot at the water hole where they could drink their fill and top off their canteens. All around, nomads popped up colorful tents to provide shade for a forthcoming respite.
Merek stretched and took in the scene. Behind him, Matilda butted him almost off his feet. He staggered and grabbed her harness to remain upright. “All right. All right. You’re a greedy girl.” He picked out another cube and led her to the water. A handler came up and took her off his hands. She watched with sorrowful eyes, bawling as he walked away with the sugar bag.
A man stuck a thermos containing a cool drink in his hand and motioned him to an arrangement of rocks. “Lord Bashar wants you to join him in the shelter.”
Deuce limped up next to him. “Ah, man. My butte aches. I hope your Terran friends are worth it.” Sweat dripped off the guy’s forehead as he rubbed his backside and took a drink from a water bag. They both watched the frenetic activity around them in a half-daze. Finally, shaking his head, Deuce tapped him on the shoulder and they proceeded to the shelter.
Arriving at the cave’s entrance, they stopped to watch two women exit a litter. Bashar arrived to help the younger one alight. A stunning adolescent girl with long silken hair that flowed like an ebony river hopped out. Her resemblance to Solanje was striking.
Right behind her, an exotic woman, attired in a gauzy cream outfit, eased to the ground. The lower half of her face hid behind a fluttering veil. Heavy eyeliner with blue and green eyeshadow emphasized dark mysterious eyes that peered out at him. Merek pulled up, staring. A cinched waist revealed a curved shape, and well-formed legs flashed briefly from a slit in her long skirt as she exited.
Blood rushed to Merek’s head. Faint residue from the gebbit hormone he had previously taken rekindled desire as he realized that the vision before him was Mika. A Mika he had never realized existed. A Mika not for any man.
“Doesn’t she look gorgeous?” The girl addressed a flummoxed Bashar. Even Deuce halted his chatter to gape.
The costumed Mika appealed to Merek. “I can’t move in this… this…” She paused to catch her breath.
Merek wondered how Mika was handling the planet’s gravity because it sure was killing him, and his own outfit didn’t make it any easier. Hers must have been impossible in this desert heat.
“Abela,” the younger woman replied. “They call it an Abela. It’s very encompassing but protects delicate skin from the sun. It’s what desert women wear.” The poised young girl faced the men. “Oh, hello.” Her lips curved up. An eyebrow lifted at Bashar.
Merek almost laughed as Bashar shook from his Mika-induced trance and swung to face him and Deuce. “Please let me introduce my niece, Sousarissa Blue T’Kai, recently back from one adventure and ready for another.”
“I was kidnapped by smugglers and rescued by my fiancé, J’ai Jen D’Jang,” she recounted breathlessly. “He was a most brave bodyguard who saved me by stopping a runway spaceship. He talks to crystal and ...”
“Sousi. Enough.” Bashar rolled his eyes. “J’ai Jen has not been formally recognized as your fiancé yet.”
“Grandad promised we could marry after Jen gets a little older.” She leaned in. “He’s quite young to be tied down to a wife. He recently took over security for Grandad who says he wants him to mature a bit before marrying me.”
Bashar shook her arm. “Sousi, I was not in favor of bringing you, and I can still send you back if you don’t learn to remain quiet and behave. This is a dangerous mission, not a young girl’s lark where you can gossip at will.”
“Uncle, you’re hurting my arm.”
Bashar winced and hurriedly undid his grasp.
She sniffed. “I know how awful it is to be kidnapped. That’s why I want to help free those poor women.”
Mika stepped forward and placed a hand on Bashar’s arm. “Souci is a treasure. She’s a wonderful companion and a great help in learning your ways. She distracted me from the discomfort of a hot, swaying litter.”
“You should try riding a lompir,” Merek muttered.
Bashar gestured them back into a shaded corner where servants unpacked ice from lined chests and plugged fans into a noisy generator. “I built this way station recently,” he said. “Much improvement is needed, but it will protect us from the worst of the heat. We’ll rest here and continue later once the sun begins to decline.”
Outside, the camp settled into a drowsy stupor. A third woman emerged from the litter. A wiry, wrinkled granny, who had eyes that darted about, missing nothing. Merek learned that she was the personal attendant for the two women. She brought out blankets for them to sit on and handed out water with dried fruits and crackers.
Sousi huddled with Mika and continued giving her lessons in the Sunglast culture, occasionally adding in bits about the Ching T’Karre too. Eventually, they napped.
Merek listened, trying to cram in as much information as possible until he fell asleep, lulled by the drone of the fan and a cool breeze wafting across his body.
***
A shriek startled Merek awake. He swore it sounded like Matilda in the role of an alarm clock. Soon men, lompir, and the three women were stretching sore muscles and groaning.
Bashar urged everyone up, “We are over halfway in the journey, and the sun will not be as intense now.”
Merek finished off his drink and eyed Bashar. “Can I help you with anything? After all, I am to be your personal attendant, and I’m feeling a bit useless at the moment.”
Shrugging, Bashar said, “I have little experience. You may know more than me what a bodyguard does.”
“With Commander Fujeint, I stayed close and kept an eye out for danger… and coffee.”
Bashar laughed. “With me, it’s t’aile, a desert drink with a strong kick to it. I’m addicted.”
Nodding, Merek said, “I remember Richard mentioning t’aile. He said you introduced him to a potent Sunglast drink that got him into a lot of trouble.”
“Unfortunately, it’s true. Trace was not pleased we got drunk on his watch.”
“Doesn’t sound like it’s a safe drink.”
Bashar laughed. “It isn’t, but it’s hard to resist.”
The litter arrived to pick up the women, and they departed. A familiar bellow sounded outside, and a handler held Matilda’s reins. The animal stomped her front feet and shook her head as soon as she saw him.
“All right. Calm down.” He dug in and found the bag of sugar cubes. The lompir lurched forward.
“Behave or you’ll get nothing,” he warned, shaking a finger at the rambunctious beast.
The head jangled up and down. He lay a cube in his palm and within seconds it was sucked up. Gingerly, he mounted and gathered the reins as the handler
guided them into position. Before long, the caravan was on the move.
This time, Merek rode at the front with Bashar. He studied the terrain, barely paying attention to any conversation. The dry desert soon gave way to rough scrub and gnarled trees. Hills appeared with small villages nestled here and there among them.
“Khalib decided he was ready to settle down into living quarters that were sturdier than a tent.” Bashar waved a hand. “A large compound came up for sale at a most attractive price. The owner had died in the cataclysm, and his wife took the family to live with her relatives. They practically gave the compound to him.”
Bashar turned an eye to Merek. “He figured the desert was headed his way and, most likely, he’s right. This climate change has not stabilized yet.”
The talk continued a bit more on the climate until the air dried out all speech. Eventually, the only sounds came from the jangle of the lompir's bridles, accompanied by their muttering complaints.
Chapter 4
A Visit
Khalib Allfyre greeted them well enough with a relative’s hug for Bashar and a brief nod to Merek. Deuce, on the other hand, received a warm handclasp. “Convey my greetings to Director Walker when you return.” Khalib gave the young I.N.Sys agent a welcoming smile, and everyone followed him into a lavish courtyard.
Their host loomed over his guests, a big man even by Alysian standards. Used to towering over his fellow Terrans, Merek offered Khalib a level gaze, which the nomad returned with a penetrating stare that reminded the guard of a prowling tiger assessing prey. Discomforted by the intense scrutiny, Merek shifted his eyes away.
The women came up after introductions, and Khalib raised heavy dark eyebrows in interest when Mika arrived. A protective instinct surged within Merek, which he managed to tamp down for the sake of civility. Even so, his shoulders tightened, his nostrils flared, and his hands clenched.
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