CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The chamber erupted once again. In a panic, I whirled toward the Secretary, pulling my hand from Raphael’s grip. All at once the commotion around me took on an extra level of insanity, because what had formerly been at least semi-coherent exclamations and conversations became a cacophony of otherworldly squeaks and trumpets and shrill sounds I couldn’t begin to describe. Even the human voices frightened me, since their words were equally incomprehensible.
Face white, Raphael grabbed for my hand again and rose to his feet. “That is impossible. Callista and I are soul-bonded.”
“Are you?” The Secretary looked as if he wanted to scrub his hands through his hair and was refraining from doing so simply because it would have been very unprofessional. “Congratulations. And I am sorry, honored Lir Shalan,” he went on, directing his words to the Reptilian leader, “but the Assembly does not traffic in flesh, human, Pleiadian, or otherwise. I would have denied your request even if the honored Callista Jones had not already been bonded, but now it is doubly impossible, I’m afraid. You will have to think of another alternative.”
Lir Shalan looked like he wanted to spit fire. Maybe he could; I didn’t know much about Reptilian anatomy, and didn’t want to. “There is nothing else that we want.”
“Take some time to think about it,” Anda offered, brilliant aquamarine eyes guileless, and the Reptilian leader only glared back at her, a low hissing sound emanating from somewhere in the back of his throat. Caught in their crossfire, I wished that Raphael would touch the jewel he wore and energy-jump us right back up to the ship.
But of course he wouldn’t — if that jewel even worked in here. For all I knew, they had devices that prevented the jewels from functioning while inside the Assembly chamber. Otherwise, you could just beam yourself right out of there whenever the going got tough.
“I think that is an excellent idea,” the Secretary said. He looked over at Anda. “If you would take your defendant and her companion outside for a bit — ”
Talk about your good ideas. I thought that sounded like a great one. The more distance I could put between me and Lir Shalan, the better.
“Of course, honored Secretary,” she replied, then glanced down at us. “If you would come with me — ”
I wasn’t about to argue. Raphael and I both followed her out of the chamber. As I went, though, I could feel the muscles in the center of my back clenching, as if the Reptilian leader was trying to bore a hole in my spine with his eyes while I was walking away.
Once we were outside, in a private little courtyard area that seemed specifically designed for people escaping the Assembly to cool their heels when necessary, I let out a relieved breath. “What do you think they’re going to ask for instead of me?”
“I don’t know,” Anda replied. “I have never encountered a situation like this one before.”
“Nor I,” Raphael said. His attention seemed to be fixed on the chamber we’d just left, and his dark eyes were narrow, angry. “They asked for such a thing, when they already knew the Secretary would never allow it.”
“So why did they ask?” I already felt enough out of my depth, but now I was trying to understand the motivations of the Reptilians, and that was a crazy-making prospect if I’d ever heard of one. “Just to be assholes?”
Anda’s fine blue brows drew together, and I guessed that “asshole” wasn’t something easily translatable into Pleiadian.
“I doubt it’s that simple,” Raphael said. His mouth was tight, but even so, I really wished Anda wasn’t there so he could take me in his arms and hold me and kiss me and tell me everything was going to be fine. “More as if…they asked for something they knew to be impossible in order to put themselves in a place of moral superiority.”
“There’s a good one,” I remarked, tone bitter. “Reptilians and moral superiority aren’t exactly two things I generally think of in the same sentence. Or even paragraph.”
“Needless to say, I believe that is their game. What they hope to gain from it, I am not sure yet.” He looked up at Anda. I wondered if that felt strange to him, a man who was usually tall enough to hold his own against anyone else in the immediate vicinity. “Do you have any insights, Counselor?”
She turned her hands so the palms faced up toward the sky. I wondered if that was her race’s way of shrugging. “Not at the moment. The motivations of the Reptilians are, unfortunately, often inscrutable. I doubt they mourned their lost comrade too much, but rather were glad of the opportunity he gave them to gain some leverage. But, as you said, they had to have known that the Secretary would deny their request.”
I couldn’t even feel too relieved by my reprieve, since it seemed obvious that the whole thing had been carefully manipulated. But why? If they really didn’t want me, then what did they want?
An odd little musical note sounded from the bracelet Anda wore on her left wrist, and she looked down to touch the blue jewel embedded in it. “They are calling us back in.”
Damn. I would have liked to stay out in the fresh air for a while longer. Big as it was, something about the Assembly chamber felt oppressive, claustrophobic, to me. Possibly it gave off that impression because of the weight of watching eyes within it.
Or maybe it was just having to be in such close proximity to the Reptilian delegation.
When we reentered the room, however, I was surprised to see that the chairs the Reptilians had occupied were empty. Anda looked startled, too; she took her position behind the table that had been designated for our use and said, “Honored Secretary? Where have the complainants gone?”
“Back to their ship,” he said heavily. “They claimed they could not think of adequate reparations at the moment, and so they wished to return to their sector, since it was clear that Reptilian life was of no great concern to this Assembly. I informed them that they had up to one standard year to offer a more acceptable form of reparations, and they left.”
“Then is the defendant free to go?”
“It would seem so.” The Secretary didn’t quite sigh, but he did give a very small shake of his head, as if at a loss. “Under more normal circumstances, honored Callista Jones, I would ask that you remain in this sector, since your home world is not part of the Assembly. However, because you are soul-bonded to Raphael, you may return to your own part of the galaxy — if he provides surety that you will return here if and when you are summoned again.”
“I do provide that surety,” Raphael said at once. His voice rang out strong and firm, and I did feel a little better, hearing him promise that he would be there to bring me back if necessary. I’d been dreading the possibility of having to remain on this world — beautiful as it might be — until the Reptilians figured out what they did want from me.
“You may go, then.” The Secretary’s gaze flickered over to Anda. When he spoke again, his tone was dry. “You may want to advise them on the necessity of a retainer.”
“Of course, honored Secretary.” Smiling slightly as she looked down at Raphael and me, she added, “Please follow me.”
Once again she led us from the chamber, only this time out the doors that led into the building’s main hallway, and then on until we’d emerged in the open air of the colonnade. I drew in a deep breath of that air, letting it fill my lungs. That felt better.
Raphael glanced around, but none of the people who came and went down the walkway seemed to be paying us any attention. When he spoke, though, he seemed to be making an effort to keep his voice low. “What do you think are the chances of our having to return here?”
Another of those gestures with Anda’s palms turned skyward. “I wish I could tell you. The Reptilians are not generally those who would walk away from something they felt were owed. At the same time, they may feel that they will be in a better bargaining position the next time they need something from the Assembly if they at least pretend to be magnanimous.” She looked over at me and smiled, her teeth so white that they, too, appeared to be tinted faint
ly blue. “I know it is not an enjoyable prospect to have such a thing hanging over your head, but I must advise you to return home and go about your life as well as you can. In the best case, you will never hear from me again, but if the occasion arises….”
“I know we can count on your help,” I said. “Thank you, Anda.” I extended a hand to her, and after a brief hesitation, she took it.
“Curious custom,” was her only observation, and then she took her leave of us and hurried off. Because of her height and shocking blue hair, she couldn’t exactly disappear into the crowd, but she walked swiftly enough that she was soon gone from eyeshot.
Raphael and I looked at each other. Roughly a million emotions swirled through me right then — relief, worry, doubt, confusion. Anger that no one had really stood up for Logan and his rights as a person, no matter what his origins might be. Disappointment that, for all its advanced technology and millennia of history, the Assembly seemed just as flawed as my own world’s United Nations. Fear that I could be dragged back here at any time, that I might be separated from my world, my family, from Raphael.
But above all that, need. I wanted him so badly to take me back to his ship.
And he seemed to understand that need, because he took my hand in his and ran the index finger of his other hand over the surface of the jewel that hung from his belt. White light flashed once again, and in the next instant, we were standing in the ship’s lounge.
“I thought you might want a drink after that,” he said.
What I’d actually been imagining was him taking me back to his bed and erasing all memory of that encounter with the Reptilians, but some of the fizzy drink he’d given me earlier might not be a bad idea, either. So I nodded and watched as he fetched two glasses for us, then filled both of them with the soft peach-colored liquid.
I took my glass from him and sipped. At once I felt about ten pounds lighter, all those wonderful bubbles flowing through my bloodstream and doing wonders for my mood.
“What do you call this stuff, anyway?”
“Rahliss.”
“That’s pretty.”
He smiled. “I fear it is nowhere near as lovely as you.”
Warm blood rushed to my cheeks. I’d never been all that good with compliments, mostly because I didn’t think they were all that deserved. More than one person had called me beautiful, but what did that even mean? Mostly that I was lucky enough to have very good-looking parents, parents who’d passed their otherworldly genes on to me.
Raphael was watching me closely. “Perhaps we should sit.”
That sounded like a very good idea. It wasn’t until I’d lowered myself to one of the couches that I realized how wobbly my knees actually were. Too much to absorb, I supposed, starting with walking on the surface of a whole new world and ending with the realization that, while I might have been granted a reprieve, I wasn’t exactly home free yet.
I sipped some more of the rahliss. More lovely bubbles, washing away the memory of the way Lir Shalan had glared at me. As Raphael came and sat next to me, I asked, “Who do you think that one man was?”
“Which man?”
“The one with the Reptilians. The one who looked almost human, but not quite. Was he a hybrid?”
Raphael frowned. “His presence puzzled me as well. If he is a hybrid, he is unlike any I have ever seen or heard of. The Reptilians’ goal with their hybrids was always to make individuals who could pass among humans undetected. The man in question certainly could not do that. But the Reptilians are always experimenting, and it is possible that, after their last defeat, they decided to take their genetic manipulations in another direction.”
I supposed his explanation made sense, although I couldn’t quite figure out why Lir Shalan and his cohorts would bring their latest science experiment along to a public hearing. Then again, I was having a hard time understanding just about anything they did or said, so I could probably file this mystery away along with all the others.
“Are we headed home now?” I’d almost inquired as to what he thought the Reptilians were doing, but he’d already admitted that he didn’t have a clue. At the moment, I wanted to pretend really hard that they didn’t exist.
“We are going back to Earth, yes.”
His reply reminded me that Earth might be my home, but it certainly wasn’t his. “Was that your home world?” I asked.
“No. I was born in another of the systems that make up the cluster, but I have spent a great deal of time on Penalta, since it is the seat of government for the Assembled Worlds.”
For some reason, realizing that Penalta wasn’t Raphael’s home saddened me. Even though we shared an intimacy beyond anything I’d ever experienced before, I still knew so little about him. He hadn’t mentioned anything of his own family. Were they gone, too? How long did Pleiadians actually live, anyway? Hundreds of times longer than Earth humans, obviously, but there was still a big difference between being exceptionally long-lived and outright immortal.
“I can see all the questions in your eyes,” he said, then moved closer to me so he could drop an arm around my shoulders and pull me in toward him. I leaned my head against his chest, so glad to feel his warmth surround me, to hear his heart beating beneath my cheek.
“Was I being that obvious?”
“Perhaps. But it is only fair, I suppose. After all, I know a great deal about you.”
I hadn’t even thought about it that way, but then I realized he — and the people he worked for — must have a fairly hefty dossier on me and my family. That notion did make me feel uneasy, but I gave a not very convincing laugh and said, “Really? All right…what’s my favorite color?”
“Purple,” he replied, completely deadpan. I honestly didn’t know if he was trying to tease me or just relating the facts he had in his possession.
All right, purple was actually my favorite color, but…. “Okay, then,” I said. “What about your family? Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
“No. As I mentioned before, our families are usually small. It is necessary, because of our long lives. Even so, we have spread to all the worlds of the cluster, and to systems beyond that.”
“Terraforming?” I asked, and a faint look of surprise passed over his features. Smiling, I added, “I do actually listen to my father and Paul and Michael Oliver when they start going off about this stuff. Well, sometimes, anyway.”
“Yes, that is what we do. Obviously, we have a different word for it, and we are very careful about the worlds we select, so there is no chance of altering a planet that has the potential to develop life on its own.” He paused for a moment, and I felt his lips brush against my hair. A warmth that had nothing to do with the rahliss began to spread through me. “Which brings me to my own parents. They are scientists, members of the one of the advance teams that survey worlds and assess their viability for transformation.”
While I was very glad to hear that his parents were alive and well — Raphael’s story of what had happened to my paternal grandparents still haunted me — I did find it a little strange to think of him as being part of a family, of having any connections at all. He seemed so very alone.
Well, not entirely, of course. Not anymore. He had me now.
“Do you see them often?”
“No. Their work, as you might have guessed, keeps them occupied and far away from my own areas of activity. Also, the dynamics of family are very different for us. Of course it is every parent’s wish that his or her offspring is healthy and happy and successful, but because we live such long lives, we begin to…drift, for lack of a better word…after a time. We do not share in each other’s lives on a regular basis the way you do on Earth.”
“Oh.” That didn’t sound very friendly to me, but I had to admit I might be just a bit biased. My mother and my Aunt Kara had definitely over-compensated when it came to the whole family togetherness thing, most likely because they were still dealing with the emotional fallout of having their own mother walk out on them w
hen they were little girls. And the Olivers just got wrapped into the big extended family because of everything they’d gone through with my mother and aunt, even though Persephone’s parents were still alive, as was Paul’s mother, although his father had passed away before he even met Persephone. Anyway, even though I was an only child, I didn’t feel like one at least half the time simply because I spent so much time around my cousins. An existence where I wouldn’t see either of my parents for years or even decades didn’t exactly compute.
“This troubles you.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes, I guess it does.” I shifted, moving so I could look up at him instead of lying there with my head on his chest. “Don’t you miss them?”
His eyes wouldn’t exactly meet mine. “Perhaps I did at first. But as the years went on, and I became immersed in my work, it did not seem to matter as much. And it’s not as if we have no contact at all. From time to time my mother will send a communiqué, just to make sure that I’m still doing well.”
“That sounds cozy,” I said dryly. “You should get in contact with them soon, though. Maybe they’d like to hear there’s finally a chance they’ll be grandparents.”
“Indeed?” he replied. The remote expression left his face then, and he even smiled. “Wouldn’t you say you might be, as your people put it, jumping the gun?”
“What, you don’t want kids right away?” I asked, but I made sure he could hear the teasing note in my voice. “Don’t worry, Raphael — I’m not in any hurry. But wouldn’t you like to have a family of your own someday?”
“A family,” he repeated. A flicker of sadness came and went in his dark eyes. “I had long ago put away the hope of ever having a child of my own. I suppose I will have to revisit that concept, now that it is no longer such an impossibility.”
Although I understood its source, I still hated to see such sorrow in his expression. So I pressed my lips against his and felt his mouth open to mine, tasted the sweet-tart flavor of the rahliss on his tongue. His arms tightened around me as he deepened the kiss, and even through my voluminous skirts and the heavy robes he wore, I could feel his arousal.
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