by K. W. Jeter
“Zepeda here.” Her all-business voice came over the line.
“Hey, Zep; sorry I took so long getting back to you. What’s up?”
“Not much, compadre. Your desk looks like a wastepaper dump, with everything it’s got piled on it. You’re gonna have to bring a shovel with you, just to clear it off. Mm, what else? The coffee’s better when you’re not around. Grazer’s still down on poor ol’ Albert’s ass. That’s about it. Oh, and we got a break on the Purists and their little biology lab operation.”
He knew she wouldn’t have put in a call to him unless she’d had something good. “Yeah? What precisely?”
“Seems like your ruckus out at the helicopter field scared the piss out of some of the organization’s less, uh, heroic types. Little weedy guy named Niemeyer, got glasses that make him look like a lemur—he scooted in here a few hours ago and started spilling his guts. He saw the TV news footage, with the crashed copter and the bodies and all, figured you were probably going to look him up next and kick his butt.” She made a clicking noise with her tongue. “Better watch it—you’re going to get a disciplinary write-up pretty soon, you keep scaring the civilians like that.”
“I thought that was one of the perks that came with the job. So what’d you sweat out of this charmer?”
“Well, once he got done telling us how none of it was his idea, he’d just been following orders—that old song and dance—he really started singing. This guy was plea-bargaining his head off, and we hadn’t even charged him with anything yet. But he had some choice little tidbits for us. Like the location of the storage units where the Purists had stashed all their lab equipment. And their seed stock of Parris’s bacteria that they had cloned their supply from. We got a court order to impound the whole lot—took three trucks to haul it all away, and now we got some evidence lockers that look like Frankenstein’s laboratory. But those sonsabitches have been cleaned out, Matt. Right down to Bone City.”
“God, that’s great. Hey, a lot of that stuff could still be dangerous—you might want to send a memo around, telling any of the Newcomers at the station to steer clear.”
“No problemo; did it already. You want to know what else our little canary told us? Miss Ice Queen, our ol’ buddy Darlene Bryant—she used to come around and visit the lab while they were cooking up the bacteria. According to Niemeyer, she and the guy who was piloting the helicopter you brought down, they had something special going on between them.”
Sikes wasn’t surprised. “I imagine Bryant’s got herself pretty well covered on this one.”
“Got that right. Denies everything, and she’s got plenty of witnesses to put her far, far away. She’s a smart cookie—probably not worth trying to bust her story. But we got enough now to justify keeping a pretty close eye on her. She won’t be able to go get her roots bleached without a cop looking out of the mirror at her.”
“Yeah, well, we’ll settle her hash some other time. Look, I gotta run. I’ll talk to you later.”
He handed the phone back to the older nurse who’d been glaring at him the whole time. “I’m outta your hair—trust me.” As he turned and headed away from the nurses’ station, he hoped that he’d never wind up getting wheeled into the emergency room and finding her on duty there.
Cathy was breaking down the lab she’d been using at the hospital. Sikes leaned in and knocked on the open door. “How’s it going?”
Most of the equipment had already been packed. Cathy straightened up from one of the cases and smiled at him. “Great. Pretty hectic, though—Dr. Quinn and I are going to do a paper for the Journal of the American Medical Association; the editors already talked to him about it.” She shook her head. “I’m really going to have to keep my skates on, to get everything done.”
That kind of comment about what her social life was going to be like—he wondered if she was making a preemptive excuse on getting together with him.
Worth a shot. “You were working pretty hard,” said Sikes. “Maybe you oughta think about taking a break . . . a little reward for saving George and Susan’s lives . . .”
“It wasn’t me.” A glow came into Cathy’s eyes. “It was Ahpossno. He’s the one that did it. And he’s not done yet!” She turned and laid her hand on the device with its gauges marked with Tenctonese characters, sitting in a place of honor on the lab bench. “This is going to revolutionize Newcomer medical care. When he brought this here, it’s as if we jumped a whole generation in our understanding of our own physiology.”
“Wonderful. What a guy.”
She caught the true meaning of his words. “Matt . . . it’s not—”
He didn’t want to hear it, not now. “When are the Franciscos checking out?”
“This afternoon. Soon as their last blood tests come back.”
“Today? I thought they weren’t going to be released until Tuesday!”
“Matt, this is Tuesday.”
“Catch you later.” He was already out the door and down the corridor. He had made some promises; the way things were going, he didn’t want to screw up on these, too.
The bright, polluted sunshine poured across the front steps of the hospital. Ahpossno had George and Susan on either side of him as he escorted them to the curb.
“You were in the desert for six years?” Susan smiled at him in amazement. “How did you survive?”
“I was a slave at the mining colony on Yderon.” Ahpossno shrugged, the simple human gesture one among many that the Tenctonese had adopted here. “This Earth desert didn’t seem so bad.” He changed the subject, to avoid further probing into his past. “Are those our leaders?” He pointed to the billboard across the street. A Tenctonese man and woman, in what he knew now was elegant formal dress; they smiled and held up tall, narrow glasses filled with white fluid. The large words spelled out the message “BLACK TIE MEANS WHITE GOLD—the sour milk with class.”
Ahpossno regarded the image. “I see their picture everywhere in the city.”
George laughed. “They’re models—[actors]—it’s just an ad for sour milk.”
“ ‘Ad’? What is that?”
“To make you want something,” said Susan. “So you’ll buy it.”
That puzzled him. “We know what we want—what we need. This ‘ad’ is a useless thing—yes?”
“It’s part of human culture—we’ve had to adapt.” A note of embarrassment crept into Susan’s voice. “Actually, advertising is how I make my living.”
Footsteps sounded behind them. “Hey! Wait up!” They turned and saw Cathy come running out of the hospital.
“George—Susan—” Cathy panted for breath. “You shouldn’t be up walking. The nurses should’ve brought you out in wheelchairs.”
Susan held up her hands, palms outward. “I feel fine.”
“Strong as a lox,” said George.
Cathy looked exasperated for a moment, then smiled. “Well, I want you both to eat a lot of cartilage—really get your strength back.”
“Tell me . . .” Ahpossno had gone on studying the billboard; he turned toward Susan. “Why do you choose to live among them?”
“What do you mean?”
“Among the humans. I think it is not safe.”
Susan glanced at her husband. “We don’t have much choice about that.”
There was more that he wanted to ask her, but a horn beeping at the curb interrupted. They turned and saw Sikes’s car pulling up. Sikes waved from the side window.
“Not all humans are our enemies.” George indicated the human police detective with a tilt of his head. “You’ll see—this is a good place to live.”
“Hi.” Sikes had gotten out of the car and walked up the bottom few steps. “Buck and I got the house all cleaned up. There’s tripe in the fridge and a gallon of old milk in the oven.” He grinned. “Everything’s set for some major kicking back.”
George returned the smile. “Thank you, Matt.”
Ahpossno stayed behind with Cathy as Sikes walked the Franciscos t
o the car. “Perhaps we can work together again.” He looked back at the hospital. “I admire you. You did a great thing.”
“No . . .” Cathy touched his arm. “You deserve as much credit as I do.”
His gaze locked with hers. “Will you teach me about this world?”
“Of course . . .”
From the corner of his eye, Ahpossno could see Sikes standing at the curb and glaring at them. The detective scowled as Ahpossno and Cathy touched their fists to each other’s temples.
[“Good luck.”] Cathy stepped back and waved to the others. “ ’Bye.”
George helped Susan into the backseat of the car. Ahpossno opened the front door and slid into the passenger seat.
The temptation to indulge in the pleasure of thinking about Cathy was not inconsiderable; it had become stronger with each time it had happened. But at this moment, he could not allow himself that luxury. In the rearview mirror, Ahpossno could see Sikes pulling George aside. He could also hear Sikes’s angry, low-pitched voice.
“Where the hell’s he think he’s going?”
George raised a mollifying hand. “Ahpossno’s going to be staying with us. Just until he gets settled.”
“Whoa. Wait a minute.” Sikes leaned closer to George, his voice a taut whisper. “You’re letting this guy into your house?”
“But, Matt—he saved our lives.”
“Trust me, George. He’s not kosher.”
A puzzled look came over George’s face. “Of course, he’s not Jewish—how could he be? And what does that have to do with anything?”
“There’s something not right about him . . .”
Ahpossno continued eavesdropping on the conversation outside the car. The voices came to him only slightly muffled by the curved window glass; his hearing was considerably sharper than even that of the normal Tenctonese.
“It’s because he’s been hiding in the desert for six years.” George nodded toward the car. “That’s why he seems strange to you. Really, Matt—he just needs a home.”
“Let him go to the Bureau of Newcomer Affairs. That’s what they’re for.”
“Ahpossno’s a friend—he’s coming with us.”
George stepped past Sikes and got into the car, next to Susan. A moment after, Sikes followed, getting in behind the steering wheel. Next to Ahpossno.
He could detect the muscle tension radiating from the human as Sikes started up the car, slammed it into gear, and peeled into the street. He kept his gaze straight ahead, not glancing at the other man.
Later there might be time to recall with amusement this human’s emotional reactions. But for now, he would still have to be careful. Caution was always called for when one was this close to an enemy.
Until the enemy could be eliminated . . .
That time was coming as well.
C H A P T E R 2 3
HIS PARTNER WAS being very awkward about all this. Not for the first time, George reflected on the difficulty of dealing with human emotions. Pride and hurt feelings, and—what he suspected was going on with Matt’s opinion of Ahpossno—jealousy and envy. All those things were coloring Sikes’s view, making him irrational and . . . well, mean. George had to admit it, that there was a definite mean streak in Sikes. Perhaps it was part of what made him a good cop; it fueled the caninelike ability to go after some miscreant, seize on to his leg, and not let go, at least until the iron-barred doors of the station’s holding tank slammed shut. Everything was personal with Matt. George supposed this wouldn’t be the last time he’d have occasion to think about these matters.
Still . . .
He elevated his own display of good feeling, to smooth over the fact that Matt had stayed behind in his car, sitting there and sulking while he and Susan welcomed Ahpossno to their home. “Here we are!” He swept his arm grandly toward the house.
“This . . .” Ahpossno stood in the driveway and looked perplexed. “This is where you live? Your home?”
“Well, the bank owns most of it. But yes, it’s ours.” He turned to Susan. “Matt’s waiting for me. I have to get to work.”
“Can’t take even a day off?” Her smile was just a trifle sad. “There’s so much we could show our guest . . .”
He shook his head. “There’s a lot that’s been happening. But I’ll try to leave early.”
They touched each other’s temples with their fists.
Ahpossno turned from studying the house, and toward George. “You do an important work. Perhaps I will become a policeman as yourself.”
The other’s words flattered him. “Really?”
“Maybe you can show me where it is you work.”
“Of course. I’d be happy to. I’ll take you down to the station tomorrow.” George’s smile broadened. “I’m afraid I’ve been away from my desk for so long, I’d hate for you to see it until I’ve had a chance to straighten up the mess a little.” He stepped back and gestured again at the house. [“Friend, our home is your home.”]
Ahpossno acknowledged the statement with a nod of gratitude.
“Come on.” Susan took Ahpossno’s arm and tugged him toward the front door. “Let’s get you settled in.”
“Well, he certainly managed to slip right into things.” Sikes looked sourly at George as he got into the car’s passenger seat. “I’m surprised you didn’t have a red carpet rolled out for the guy.” Sikes put the car into gear and peeled away from the curb.
“Matt, please . . .” The car’s sudden motion rocked George’s head back. “If you can’t find it in yourself to be civil to the man, you should at least understand that the rest of us do not share your feelings about him.”
“Share my feelings? Gimme a break.” Sikes one-handed the steering wheel, glaring ahead through the windshield. “Jesus Christ, can’t you smell this guy?”
“I really don’t see what his personal hygiene has to do—”
“Not that kind of smell. And you’re supposed to be a Detective Two.” Sikes shook his head. “Man, this Ahpossno character sets off every alarm I got. If I was still in patrol cars, and I just saw him walking down the street, I’d have him cuffed and facedown on the sidewalk in two seconds flat while I ran a warrant check on his ass.”
George was shocked. “But that’d be illegal, Matt. Unjustified. It’d be a violation of an individual’s civil rights.” A dismaying suspicion crossed his mind, like the brief shadow of a predatory bird, another reason why Sikes might have failed his promotion tests.
“Yeah, and it’d be good police work, too. Because I’d guarantee you I’d find something on the bastard. And it wouldn’t be unpaid parking tickets, either.”
This talk saddened him. “Matt, I really do believe you’re letting your perceptions be clouded by . . . well, by your personal feelings.”
“ ‘Personal feelings’?” Sikes’s glare swung around toward George. “And just what the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
“Please watch your driving, Matt.” He fought the impulse to reach over and grab the wheel. “Let’s just say I’m well aware of your emotional attachment to Cathy. But then, I’ve always felt that there was something special between the two of you.” George shrugged. “So when she and Ahpossno were working so closely together at the hospital, it’s only natural that you should feel jealous—”
“Jealous? God damn!” Sikes whacked the top of the steering wheel with his fist. “I’m not jealous of the sonuvabitch—I’m telling you there’s something wrong with the guy!”
“Well. Thank you for your concern.” George’s words came out more stiffly than he had intended. “Perhaps we could drop the subject for the time being. We have work to do.”
“Yeah, yeah . . .” Sikes brought himself under control with a visible effort. “Look, I didn’t want to get all over your case. Maybe we should just wait and see with the guy—okay?”
“That’s an excellent suggestion.” George relaxed against the car seat. “And I think you will see. Eventually.”
Sikes was about to say
something more, but he clamped his jaw shut instead, and went on driving.
He stood in the middle of the Franciscos’ living room, looking around at the human-styled furnishings.
Susan watched Ahpossno, sensing a vague disapproval coming from him. “You don’t like it, do you?”
“There is much light. And room.” He smiled at her. “The many windows . . . It is almost like being outside. But you are inside.” He took another look at the walls. “But all is so . . . pale. I suppose that is a very human thing. Yes?”
“Yes . . . yes, it is.” She nodded, her smile now faded away. “Sometimes I wonder . . .”
“What is that?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Maybe we try too hard to be like them.”
“Hi!” From down the stairs, the child Emily came bouncing into the room. She had a thick book clasped in her arms, but didn’t let that stop her from giving Ahpossno a hug. She looked up into his face. “I was hoping Mom and Dad would bring you home with them.”
“ ‘Mom and Dad’?”
“She means us,” explained Susan. “George and myself.”
“Oh.” He reached down and took the book from Emily’s hands. “What is this?” The large words on the front read TREASURE ISLAND. There was a picture on the front as well, humans depicted in deep, rich colors and midnight blacks. He had not seen any humans dressed like the ones in the picture.
“Pirates and stuff. It’s really good.” Emily took the book back from him. “Matt got this one for me especially, ’cause of the pictures.” She pointed out the human name N. C. Wyeth on the cover. “Matt said that’s the best. And he had the same book when he was a kid. Look at this one . . .” She started flipping through the pages.
“Emily . . .” Susan reached down and gently closed the book in her daughter’s hands. “Maybe Ahpossno would like to look at that later. He hasn’t even sat down yet.” She glanced toward the farther areas of the house. “Where’s Buck?”
“I don’t know.” Emily shrugged. “He said he had to go somewhere and do something.”
