Cael

by Annabelle Rex

  “Working too hard and shouting at people?” Randar said, prompting Angela to swat him playfully.

  “She’d have to be somebody patient and understanding,” Cael said, grinning.

  Tarkken grimaced. “Sounds like a polite way of saying ‘meek’. I’m not interested in someone meek. Nor someone needy, either. I don’t have time for that.”

  “Tarkken, the only person on the Station who wants a Match to ignore him most of the time,” Randar said, laughing.

  “Sounds perfect,” Tarkken said. “Now can we get back to the business at hand?”

  They dropped Angela off at a restaurant where she was meeting her friends, before heading on to the hotel which was to be the base of operations for the day. Cael and Randar were ushered through to a suite while Tarkken liaised with the hotel security team. Cael wandered round the suite, examining the ornate furniture and lavish decoration. Old fashioned grandeur, as opposed to the crisp modernity they found in some of the hotels they’d used. Humanity seemed to think there was something more... regal about being old fashioned.

  “Everything is in place as planned,” Tarkken said, entering the room, typing into his comm as he walked. “Our escort will be along to take us to Buckingham Palace shortly, where the King is expected to deliver a brief speech, opening the event. He and his family will take their seats at the head of the table and begin the party. You are to sit with them as guest of honour, along with a number of other dignitaries from other countries. I’ve got profiles on all of them if you need a refresher, sir.”

  “Well, we do have some time to kill,” Cael said. “Perhaps we can have a quiz.”

  Tarkken smirked, but quickly returned to his serious ‘I’m working’ expression. “The actual partaking of tea and cake is only expected to last for half an hour or so, at which point, the King is intending to walk down the length of the table, speaking with the crowds. The guests at the table have all been vetted - they’re celebrities, people of note, a few regular folk nominated for their contributions to charitable causes, that sort of thing. The crowds will be behind barricades - they have access to the parks, but not the roads on which the tea party will be taking place. Naturally there will be a lot of security, but the intention is for the occasion to be relaxed. There should be ample opportunity for you to speak to people on both sides of the barricade. Now…”

  Before Tarkken could move on to whatever he had to say next, his comm started chiming.

  “I told them not to interrupt unless it was really important,” Tarkken said, frowning at it. “Excuse me, sir.”

  He raised the comm to his ear as he stood and headed out of the room. Cael pitied the person on the other end if they had interrupted for anything other than a major emergency.

  “This all seems like a lot of fuss,” Randar said, looking out of the window.

  Cael rose from his seat and came to join him, watching the Humans rushing about. Staff were setting tables laden with food and decorated with the British flag. While the record breaking attempt was being held at the palace, people were getting in to the spirit of the thing by having their own street parties across the city, indeed the country. Many had even dressed up in period attire, the men mostly in military uniforms, while the women dressed as nurses, or in dresses with long skirts and sleeves, often paired with an elaborate hat. Cael had been offered an outfit, but he’d declined. It wasn’t his history to celebrate - dressing the part would have felt false.

  “Do Karruthun celebrate historical events this way?” Cael asked.

  “We don’t have the same tumultuous history as Humans,” Randar said. “Our celebrations relate more to seasonal events. The Longest Night Festival, the Autumn Harvest. Angela says Humans have similar celebrations for these things, too. She’s particularly fond of Christmas. It’s soon, apparently.”

  Cael tried to remember his cultural orientation. So much of the past year had been about getting on the same page as Humanity, not about understanding the nuances of their many varied societies. His grasp of British Humans was better than most, simply for his friendship with Angela. They were generally a staid, reserved people, though Angela said it only took a little alcohol to loosen most of them up. They seemed obsessed with drinking a beverage made of leaves steeped in hot water, and their general attitude was well captured by a wartime poster that read ‘Keep Calm and Carry On’.

  “You seem... edgy,” Randar said.

  “Yes, well, celebrating history is not something that comes terribly naturally to my people,” Cael said. “Round about the time that Humanity were fighting their First World War, we were facing a different sort of oblivion. It feels somewhat inauspicious that the two events align so.”

  Randar said nothing. There was nothing to say. Cael appreciated that his friend didn’t try to reach for platitudes, to comfort him when there was no comfort to be had. Their history was a weight all Allortasians had to bear. When he stopped to think about the enormity of their tragedy, it got quite overwhelming. It would have been easy to lose oneself in it, but Cael knew he had to be stronger than that. He gave the melancholy a long moment, then turned to Randar and smiled.

  “Feel free to tell me not to be such a miserable sod at any time,” he said.

  Randar gave a soft laugh. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  “Sometimes I need reminding, and as the person who spends most time in my company, I’m trusting you to do so when necessary. It is a failing of my people that we are inclined to forget that there are multitude things to celebrate and be happy about, and I can absolutely be fallible in that regard.” He grinned. “Today, for instance, we are going to the Earth’s largest ever tea party, and I’m reliably informed there will be lots of cake. If that’s not cause for celebration, then I don’t know what is.”

  “I do,” Tarkken said, speaking from the doorway where he’d just reentered the room. “Sir, you’ve just been Matched.”

  His words seemed to filter through Cael’s mind slowly. Somewhere, the intelligent centre of his brain took the information, processed the meaning of it, and generated an appropriate verbal response. But the network of connections that carried those signals had been overloaded, fried by the mix of intense emotions, and so Cael just stood there, not saying anything.

  Randar clapped a hand on Cael’s shoulder, a broad smile on his face. “I think this is the first time in our acquaintance I’ve ever seen you speechless.”

  Tarkken smirked a little as he walked towards them. “Apparently, Randar, there’s a first time for everything.”

  Cael managed a small laugh, his neurones starting to fire again. Now his mind had processed the shock, he had a thousand questions lining up on his tongue. But he stuck to the most important one.

  “Who is she?”

  “Her name is Asha Santos, sir,” Tarkken said. “She’s Human. It’s a bit odd, but I can’t find anything on her online. No social media presence. No criminal record or anything like that, either, just your standard ID Card information. But I can’t tell you anything else about her and the only photograph I’ve got is the little ID Card one.”

  “Don’t show him that,” Randar said, as Tarkken began searching his comm. “Human women don’t appreciate people seeing their ID photo.”

  Tarkken looked up from his comm, raising his eyebrows. Randar just shrugged.

  “Angela says they are very unflattering.”

  Tarkken switched his gaze to Cael, a question in his eyes.

  “I think I’ll defer to Randar’s expertise in the matter,” Cael said, flashing his bodyguard a smile.

  “As you wish, sir,” Tarkken said, clipping his comm back on to his belt. “I assume you’ll want to meet her as soon as possible, so to that end I’ve had Cribishk go with one of our Human drivers to pick her up from the clinic and I’ve summoned a medical team from the Station to do the induction here at the hotel. They should arrive about the same time as she does. After that, it’s a case of whether you would like to meet her here or if you’d like fo
r me to arrange for her to be brought to the tea party?”

  Meet her. It didn’t feel real. All his life he’d wondered about his Match - what she would be like, how she would make him feel. And now, finally, he was about to find out.

  “While the idea of meeting her in a very public place doesn’t fill me with enthusiasm, neither does leaving her here on her own for hours if I’m caught up at the celebrations,” Cael said.

  “It will be at least an hour before she even arrives here, another hour for the procedures and to bring her to the palace,” Tarkken said. “By that time the formal part of the tea party will be wrapping up.”

  “The King did offer me a tour of the palace last I spoke to him,” Cael said. “Perhaps he would be amenable to our taking a walk in the palace gardens.”

  “I can liaise with our contact at the palace, sir,” Tarkken said. “See if I can get that arranged for you.”

  “Please,” Cael said. “It’s a little ostentatious for a first meeting, but I think it’s the best option available to us.”

  He looked to Randar, who shrugged.

  “You’re a prince,” he said. “Walking in the palace gardens seems appropriate.”

  “Not too intimidating?” Cael asked.

  “You’re going to have him as your escort and you’re worried about some gardens being intimidating?” Tarkken said.

  Cael laughed, a bright joy building inside him. His mind had worked through all the tangled emotions at last, settling on that one, and he couldn’t keep the wide smile off his face.

  Tarkken grimaced, stepping back a little, putting himself outside of emotional reading range.

  “Of course,” he said. “Now you’re both going to be projecting a disgusting amount of happiness all the time. Permission to lock myself in my office for the foreseeable future, sir?”

  “Don’t you already do that most of the time anyway?” Randar said.

  “Well, yes, but now I’m making it official policy.”

  A knock sounded at the door, interrupting their friendly bickering. One of the Human hotel staff hovered in the doorway, one of the external translators clipped over his ear.

  “Your car has just arrived,” he said.

  “Wonderful,” Tarkken said, then turned to Cael. “Do try to be present at the event, sir.”

  Cael grinned. “I will do my utmost. Knowing I’ve got you working behind the scenes for me will be a great comfort.”

  “Head of security slash errand boy. I live to serve.” His voice was desert dry.

  “And we’d all of us be lost without you,” Cael said.

  Chapter 5

  THE PROMISED CAR ARRIVED SOME THIRTY minutes later. It looked expensive - all sleek lines and tinted windows - and out of place in the run down neighbourhood the clinic was in. It pulled up by the curb and the driver’s side door opened to reveal an older gentleman in a suit, wearing one of those flat caps that said ‘I drive for a living’ more clearly than the ID card around his neck. He beamed at Asha, a grandfatherly sort of smile that almost made her feel better.

  “Good morning, Miss, a pleasure to meet you,” he said, extending a hand for her to shake. “My name’s Bernard.” He tapped on his ID card. “I’ll be your driver today.”

  He looked convincingly Human, but any doubts Asha might have had were banished by the broad East London accent he spoke with.

  Crastor stepped forwards, holding out the piece of paper. “What’s this?” he said. “We were promised a profile.”

  Bernard looked mildly confused, but he just shrugged. “I’m afraid I’m just the driver, sir. They don’t tell me much of anything. Just ‘pick up here’ and ‘drop off there’.”

  A second individual got out of the car. He - or at least Asha presumed ‘he’ from their build - didn’t come round to the pavement, just leaned against the roof of the car, watching. He was tall, north of six foot, and had dusky blue skin, eyes covered by large goggles and, in the place of ears, what looked like horns curled tight to his head. When he saw her, he stretched his mouth into a smile that looked utterly unnatural, as if he had seen Humans make the expression and was attempting to imitate it. Everything about him said ‘danger’ loud and clear, and Crastor’s eyes widened fractionally.

  Was this her Match? He wasn’t horrible to look at, but Asha’s heart wasn’t exactly doing a little dance of excitement at the sight of him.

  Crastor cleared his throat, and when he spoke again, it was with a much less confrontational tone.

  “But where is she being taken?” he said. “Is her Match here or somewhere else?”

  Bernard’s smile broadened, the confusion going. “Ah, I see, sir. I’m afraid I don’t know the answer to that question, but don’t worry. The Intergalactic Community are good people. They won’t send your ah…”

  “Daughter,” Crastor said.

  “Your daughter anywhere without giving her a chance to say goodbye.”

  Clearly the blue stranger was not her Match, then.

  “I’ve got my phone,” Asha said. “I’ll call you as soon as I know what’s going on.”

  Crastor’s eyes said ‘you better’, but he smiled and said, “Please. I don’t want to be worrying about my little girl.”

  Asha could have puked, but she just nodded and walked towards the car before Crastor figured the whole charade needed a father-daughter hug to really sell it. Bernard opened the rear door for her, and she slid inside. The car smelled of expensive leather - not the kind of vehicle she got to work on. Fully electric, for a start, and way beyond the price range of the kind of customers that came to Mal’s.

  Bernard resumed his driver’s seat and the blue alien ducked into the front passenger side. While Bernard reprogrammed his satnav, Asha glanced out of the window one last time. Crastor lurked in a nearby alleyway, his phone pressed to his ear. When Asha caught his eye, he nodded once, slowly, holding up two fingers and mouthing ‘two days’.

  “Here you are, Miss,” Bernard said, leaning round from his seat and handing her what looked like a Bluetooth headset. “Clip that over your ear.”

  Asha did as she was told, settling it over her right ear. “What’s it for?”

  “So you can understand me,” Blue said, looking round at her.

  Asha had the strange sensation of hearing English in her right ear, and an odd guttural burble in her left. So this was the translator device Crastor wanted. And they’d just given it to her straight away. Asha had half a mind to open the car door and run, but she didn’t rate her chances of getting away from Blue. She just had to keep hold of it. Bide her time, find an opportunity to slip away.

  “Well, it’s working,” she said.

  Blue nodded, then turned back to face the front windscreen as Bernard started driving. As soon as the car got past five miles an hour, the doors auto-locked. Asha knew it was an anti-carjacking thing, but it didn’t make the sound any less ominous.

  “And what are you here for?” she asked Blue, whose apparent disinterest in her confirmed her assumption that he wasn’t her Match.

  Blue glanced at her in the rear view mirror. “I’m here for your protection.”

  Asha raised an eyebrow. “My protection?”

  He just gave her another of his awkward smiles.

  “Is this normal?” Asha said.

  “Just the driver, Miss,” Bernard said again. “Chap called Tarkken’s the one you need to speak to. He gives us our orders.”

  Asha sank back into her seat, unsure what to make of any of this. Was there some sort of surveillance in the clinics? Had they seen Crastor paying the receptionist off?

  “Don’t worry, Miss,” Bernard said, shooting her a sympathetic glance in the rear view mirror. “The Intergalactic Community are decent folk, you’ll be looked after. Cribishk here might know six ways to kill a man with his thumb, but he’s a good sort.”

  Blue - Cribishk - gave a soft grunt that might have been a laugh. Asha got the sense the two of them had been working together for some time.
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  “Where are we going, anyway?” Asha said.

  “We’ve been asked to bring you to a hotel on the waterfront,” Bernard said. “Everything will be explained when you arrive, I’m sure.”

  Everything was not explained. As soon as Asha arrived, a member of hotel staff ushered her from the car through the foyer and called for the lift. Bernard never got out of the car, just waved to her as he drove away. Cribishk accompanied her, walking one step behind her at all times, like a giant blue shadow.

  The lift doors opened on a crisp businessman talking loudly on his phone. He glanced down at Asha’s ripped jeans, her scuffed boots, giving her a look of disgust. Then his eyes tracked past her to Cribishk and widened. He hurried past, but didn’t wait quite long enough to be out of ear shot before saying into his phone, “They’ll let just about anybody in these days, even the decent places. You should see the state of the... creature that just walked in.”

  “Do you get that sort of shit everywhere you go?” Asha asked Cribishk as they stepped into the lift, the doors sliding shut behind them.

  He gave her a bland look. “Almost everywhere.”

  Asha huffed. “What, you don’t look like us, therefore you must be an uncivilised savage, unfit to grace the halls of this fine establishment?”

  “Obviously. Sharp teeth, too - must be thinking about eating you.” He flashed her those teeth in a feral grin.

  The woman from the hotel didn’t quite muffle a squeak.

  “Eh, I wouldn’t eat that guy. Probably tastes of old money and an inferiority complex.”

  “Mm, not my preferred flavour combination.”

  Asha grinned, glancing up at Cribishk to see him smirking back at her.

  “Where are you taking me, anyway?” Asha said to the woman from the hotel - Chloe, according to her name badge.

  Chloe looked down at the tablet she had clutched in her arms, tapping the screen with one of those rubber pens. “Your first appointment is with the medical team - they’re waiting for you in the suite. After that, the stylist will be along to help you choose an outfit.”