Shaking his head in bewilderment, he crept back into the main room, eyes scanning as he walked. Are cameras recording my every move? He rested on the edge of the bed and recalled Kaz’s fear of having needles stuck in their navels. Oh, please, God, don’t let them torture her … or any of us.
#
Bach’s eyes opened and he leapt from the bed. Where am I? As sleep cleared from his head, he remembered. Whispering out loud as if talking to someone else he said, “Gotta figure out how to find Kaz … recover the crew … or join them. Maybe they’re in safe hands and I’m not.”
He went back into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. No apparition this time, just a weary Bach Turner looking back. Get on with it, he thought to himself while stepping over to the small, deep, bathing pool. A hot bath would feel good. He pushed two icon-identified buttons, then stood back. Streams of peppermint-scented water shot from a dozen jets in the pool’s sides, engulfing the room in a fragrant fog. I’ll submerge myself all the way to the neck. He filled the pool as high as he dared, then pulled off his NASA-issued jumpsuit, stepped into the steaming, scented water, and sat with his back resting in a curved area. Barely able to see through the sauna-like mist, and feeling oddly buoyant, he moved his arms under the water and rubbed his hands over his face. “Strange,” he said aloud. “Not at all like water on Earth. Almost can’t feel it … different surface tension … less resistance when I splash.” Curious, he drew random patterns on the water’s surface with his finger and watched in amusement as the drawings lingered before blending in. Relaxing a little at a time, he slid farther down until just his head was out. The soothing aroma revived his body and mind, and before long he came up with a plan.
With a towel wrapped around his lower half, Bach headed back to the main room and stood before his 3-D image in the big mirror, talking to himself. “Number one goal: learn as much as I can so I can rescue my crew. We can make it back to Earth with this advanced technology.” He walked to the lounge chair and half-heartedly picked up the silver jumpsuit. “But first I’ll have to blend in on Jenesis, be the pleasant earthling, peacefully coexist, and try to do everything right.” The odd fabric felt strange in his hands. He ran his fingers over the gold circle icon. An eternity symbol. Star said it represents a tunnel of light.
Like a kid whistling in a graveyard when he’s scared, Bach hummed “Yesterday” by the Beatles as he pulled on the cool, slithery jumpsuit, cringing as he ran his hand down the sleeve and across his thumping chest. The thin fabric, formed from millions of minuscule circles, felt like snake skin, yet had a strength to it that seemed indestructible. “I don’t like being a snake,” he said, almost hissing. He touched it again. “Won’t get used to this.” After studying the peculiar designs on the soft, platinum-colored boots, he hesitated for a moment then pulled them on. Seeing his feet and lower legs in the odd attire, he complained. “I feel foolish.”
He stepped back to the big mirrors by the door, stared for a moment, then slid his hand into the jumpsuit’s left hip pocket and strutted forward like a male model. Nope. He imitated a muscle-bound wrestler with clenched fists and half-bent arms. Not even close. Then he tried a superhero stance with hands on his hips and a puffed up chest. The reflection in the peculiar mirrors disheartened him. “There’s that stupid movie character again,” he said, pointing. “This time he’s in a Halloween costume in a bad 3-D movie.” He walked away grumbling. “Bachman Turner is not ready for this new life.”
Bach flopped on the bed, closed his eyes, and prayed that when he opened them he would be back on Earth and life would again be normal.
A knock at the door and Star’s voice calling his name brought him to his feet. “Bach! Time for the briefing dinner.”
“Courage,” he mumbled, as he walked to the door and swung it open to a life that wasn’t supposed to be his.
*****
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The transport tube moved from one level of the Skyprism to another with virtually no sensation of motion. When the convex door slid open, Altemus, Star, and Bach stepped into a round, windowless dining room clearly reserved for special events.
Plush blue carpeting scrunched beneath Bach’s boots as he walked through the spacious room toward a large dining table. A man and woman seated across from each other at the table had him locked in their sights. He tried to keep focused, but an array of mouth-watering aromas from freshly prepared foods jousted his stagnant taste buds, making him realize just how long it had been since he’d eaten real food.
Star took a seat beside the man, and Altemus motioned for Bach to sit between himself and the woman, then he introduced them. “Bach, this is Lavender Rose, head of our intel operations, and Wilde, our chief of research and communications. They’re key personnel in our effort to restore order to our zone. Lavender and Wilde, this is Bach Turner, he’ll be working with you while he adjusts to his new home.”
Bach weighed the two aliens’ probing gazes against the uncertainty of still not knowing if he was with friend or foe, and mentally instructed himself to deliver a convincing performance as a friendly intruder amongst those of higher intellect.
Wilde stood and reached across the massive table for a handshake. “Been waiting to meet you.”
Bach’s reach met him halfway. “Good to meet you.”
“By the way, Bach, my name’s Wilde with an e.”
“‘Wilde with an e,’” he repeated as he sat.
Bach turned to acknowledge Lavender Rose, only to find her porcelain-skinned face inches from his. He leaned back into his own space and half-spoke, half-coughed. “Pleasure to meet you, Lavender Rose.” Now another dazzling fragrance captivated him—different from Star’s intoxicating essence, but just as alluring. This one’s easier to peg. Like a garden of roses showered with lemon. She smells like her name—a lavender rose.
“Pleasure to meet you,” Lavender Rose said. Her low, raspy voice seemed an odd contradiction to her delicate appearance and name. She looked Bach up and down with a seductive smile.
A rush of embarrassment claimed Bach’s face. He fidgeted in his chair, beset by her mesmerizing fragrance, but put off by her overt friendliness and rough-edged voice that reminded him of somebody running in corduroy jeans.
Lavender’s pouty red lips parted with a sly smile as she drank in the earthling with a heavy-lidded, non-blinking gaze.
He couldn’t help but stare at her unusual gray eyes—a stunning contrast to her short dark hair, rosy cheeks, and pale skin.
Wilde raised a glass of water. “I hope you’re hungry, Bach. We tried to come up with a selection of foods you might enjoy.”
Bach lifted his glass in return, and suddenly became aware of the curious qualities of those in his presence. Wilde’s Bohemian appearance was a sharp contrast to the technical surroundings. The wiry genius’s spiked blond hair stuck up in odd places, and his emotionless green eyes seemed more befitting a zoned-out surfer than an extraterrestrial savant. Then there was Lavender Rose, a techno authority eligible for a black belt in seduction. But this is another time and place, he reminded himself.
Between casual sips of water, Wilde’s focus switched back and forth between Bach, and Lavender Rose’s interest in the earthling.
Altemus hoisted a huge platter laden with a mouthwatering array of browned meats and held it in front of Bach. “Let’s get started.”
Although famished, Bach selected something that resembled a small pork chop. His subtle inhalation left him wondering what he was about to eat. Who cares? Can’t wait to dig in.
Altemus speared a slab of ribs and flopped it onto Bach’s plate. “Eat hearty, Bach, we have much to discuss.”
Wilde held the platter for Star. She took a small serving and asked, “Who traveled to Baalbek for the roast?”
“No one,” Altemus replied. “It’s from one of the previous trips made by the co-op crews. Held in the storage freepository. The whole meal’s from the freepository.”
Lavender Rose ignored the
boring food discussion and shamelessly scanned Bach’s physique. “Sooo,” she growled in her throaty voice, “do you think your body has adapted to our environment?”
“Whew,” slipped from his lips. “Physically, I feel fine. Haven’t made any adjustments so far. The food appears much the same, but the clothes are different.” He touched the emblem on his chest and looked around the table at the others. “I’m sure I have a lot to learn.”
“Well let’s begin with an entry-level primer,” Altemus offered. “Within our galaxy there are zones, similar to solar systems. You are in the zone of Balal, comprised of eleven planets, and you are on planet Jenesis. Our zone does not have a sun. Balal’s slowly revolving planets derive energy from three orbiting daystars that hold everything in place while providing heat and light in varying degrees.”
“Daystars?” Bach asked.
“Daystars are remnants of exploded stars that orbit portions of our zone in unwavering and perpetual paths. Unfortunately for Jenesis, a past disaster left our planet shrouded by a dense dust cloud that prevents our benefiting from the daystars’ direct light and heat. Our darkness is so complete we can’t even see the stars. But, we harness and download heat and energy from the daystars through scientific means. The other planets’ benefits vary depending on their and the daystars’ orbital patterns.” Altemus sipped from his glass. “I’ll let you digest that for a moment.”
Bach talked to himself. “Zones instead of solar systems and daystars instead of a sun?” He looked at Altemus for affirmation.
“Right so far.”
“Let’s see if I have the rest right. We’re in the zone of Balal, on the planet Jenesis, and the continent of Dura?”
“Correct,” Altemus said. “Of three continents on planet Jenesis, two support life—Dura and Ulwor. The uninhabitable continent where your ship crashed by the death lake we simply call the neutral sector.”
“When …” Bach searched for words. “While flying here, to Dura, I saw something that sticks in my mind. In the mountainous region to the left, there was a bright beam of light streaming from space. It ended at the summit of one small mountain, like a spotlight from infinity. What is that?”
Altemus smiled. “What you saw is Mount Hope. Our sacred area.”
“Where does that light come from?”
“I wish I could answer that in technical terms.” He stopped for a moment. “It’s unlike anything we’ve ever encountered: an eye-blinding tunnel of light from space, concentrated solely on that one mount, without deviating a single degree. We’ve examined all possible explanations, but in the end the only answer I can give you is that it’s a connection to a divine power.”
Bach stared at Altemus for a moment, then drank from his goblet. In the midst of technical conversation, he noticed the water felt unusual in his mouth. He took another drink. When he swallowed, it was almost as if it wasn’t there or went down by itself. He remembered the bath water’s atypical characteristics and came up with another question. “Other than the death lake, is there ground water, oceans, or lakes?”
“No,” Star answered. “Our continents are bordered by cairns and gorges which were once oceans and rivers. Only the death lake remains. We manufacture water—a simple formula of hydrogen and oxygen, but we’re running low on hydrogen. So we transport water from another planet, and also recycle it. The eleven planets in our zone individually contain water, vegetables, fruits, grains, minerals, herbs, and animal sources. Dura has three, two-person, planet-hopping crews that travel our zone in a food- and supply-sharing co-operative that provides each planet the essentials to survive. We call it our co-op. But our assets are rapidly diminishing due to enemy intervention.”
“It must be challenging to carry out such missions,” Bach said.
“Yes, and also rewarding,” Altemus replied. “Our hard-working crews are very talented. Over time, they’ve taught the other cultures a common language—the one we’re speaking now. In return, many of us have learned their native tongues.”
“So those on other planets speak a common language?”
“Well, no. Everyone understands and can speak one common language, but they generally converse in their native tongues among themselves.”
“Another question,” Bach said. “If the commodities transported by co-op crews are shared from planet to planet, are they sold or is this all free?”
“Nothing is sold.” Star replied. “Even though the planets’ resources are unique to their environments, none can function independently since the changes to our galaxy.”
“Changes?” Bach asked.
“You’ll quickly understand,” Wilde replied. “Jenesis’s decline began after a barrage of meteorites damaged our energy core. That also caused the dust cloud surrounding us.”
Lavender Rose scooted her chair close to Bach’s. “In the past, our planet’s internal energy core was in perfect balance to support life,” she said, scrutinizing his face with her mysterious gray eyes. “But the meteorite disaster negatively altered that power and also drastically impaired our natural use of heat and light from the daystars. Now, we harness the remains of our planet’s energy to generate light—the faint golden glow you’ve seen.” She placed her hand on his arm. “We control the light cycles here at the complex. How about I give you a tour later?”
Wilde cleared his throat and stared at his loquacious colleague from across the table. “Don’t assume the position of welcoming committee, Lavender Rose. Bach will have plenty of time to see everything.” He hesitated with a little huff. “Where’s he going to go?”
Star turned the conversation to something more enjoyable. “Bach, try this sparkling water from planet Gihon. It springs naturally from the ground. We only serve it on special occasions.” She filled miniature goblets the size of a shot glass with an effervescent liquid, then set one in front of him and each of the others.
“Go easy,” Altemus warned. “The intoxicating effect comes quickly for some.”
Bach eyed the aquamarine-colored drink, amazed at the crackling sounds coming from the small amount of liquid. As he lifted the tiny goblet, thousands of exploding bubbles shot like stars from the bottom of the glass to the top, and audible rips popped in sequence like a string of firecrackers. He set it down and looked at the others. All watched, but none spoke. He drew the goblet to his lips, only to inhale fumes that took his breath away. He gasped, faked a smile, and bravely took a sip. A pause of contemplation followed. “Mmmm, lemony.” A second later, he went owl-eyed. “Oh, wow, my lips are numb … my toes are tingling. Whoa!”
Star said, “Perhaps you’d better wait before drinking more.”
He licked his lips.
Lavender Rose’s attentive smile gave way to a schoolgirl’s giggle. She snatched the goblet from Bach’s hand with gravelly voice crowing, “Oh, no. We forgot to clink glasses to drive out the spirits.”
Laughter made its way around the table, and the hosts raised their small goblets, clinking one against the other.
Bach looked on, bewildered. “Spirits?”
Star said, “On planet Gihon, the residents believe that there are impious spirits living in the sparkling water with powers to make you do foolish things. But the spirits dislike the sound of bells because a call to worship begins with ringing bells—”
Lavender Rose broke in. “So we clink glasses before we drink, making the sound of bells to drive the naughty spirits away.”
Bach touched his glass to hers. “But I drank before I clinked, so what’s gonna happen to me?”
Lavender giggled. “Whoooee, too late now.”
Feeling giddy, Bach thrust his glass upward with a mischievous grin, then downed the remains in one audible gulp. “Too late now!”
Lavender Rose, fully aware of the drink’s effects, raised her goblet to Bach and, in a voice like honey poured over sandpaper said, “To the most incredibly fascinating alien I’ve ever known.” She swigged down the aquamarine liquid, aligned her empty goblet with his, leane
d sideways on folded arms, and pressed against him like a cat wanting attention.
Wilde snapped, “This isn’t a social event, Lavender. It’s Bach’s orientation.”
She replied with a silly grin. “At least I have a social life.”
“You call annoying people a social life?”
“Eat a camling,” she fired back.
“Camling?” Still tipsy, Bach stifled a laugh. He didn’t know what a camling was, but the strange word, and Lavender’s counterattack on Wilde struck him as funny, and the more he thought about it the funnier it got. He fought to suppress his amusement.
Playing it for all she could, Lavender leaned over, put her lips against his ear and whispered, “Wilde needs a camling.”
Bach’s cheeks ballooned out and he let go a laugh so hard he could barely catch his breath. In no time, both roared with raucous abandon. Trying to stop only caused a round of snorting cackles that fueled the hilarity. Oblivious to his surroundings, Bach halted for a tear-filled peek at Lavender, but it just made matters worse.
“Eat a camling!” He howled, holding his stomach, then caught his breath for a moment, wiped his eyes and looked at Lavender Rose. “By the way … what’s a camling?”
Air spewed from her cheeks. “Wilde’s idea of a good time.”
“Lavender, that’s enough!” Altemus said sternly. When she ignored him, he slid a bowl of fruit across the table to Star. “Find a firefruit. At the rate they’re going, they’ll be laughing all evening. I’d prefer to give the antidote and continue the briefing.”
Star searched through the bowl and plucked two fuzzy red berries from a cluster. “Bach! Lavender! Catch.” She lobbed the fruits across the table.
Alpha Rising Page 7
