The Alien Trace [Cord 01]

by H M Major

  "Festivities?"

  "Didn't you know? This is the quarter holiday. Starting this evening there will be parties and special entertainments. Only vital personnel will have shifts. You caught me just as I was planning my personal morale boosting. Why not come to dinner with me? I'll take you to a few of the livelier parties afterward."

  "Thank you, but I should call Julia McKay. She is a friend of mind."

  "See her after the parties," K advised. "She won't attend any of them-her religion frowns on immoderation. Of course," he added, "there may be a moderate, genteel party somewhere tonight. But I certainly don't know where it would be. Join her when you're ready for some quiet comfort."

  Cord did not wish to offend K; in fact, he wanted to secure the Trade Agent as an ally, as far as possible. And it would be useful to have an introduction into the social life of the spaceport. Julia, with her ascetic nature and lowly position, would not be nearly as useful.

  The cafeteria was livelier than usual: people were already hanging colored banners on the walls-on the tables too.

  "The kitchen is now programmed to supply a few Mehiran dishes," K told him. "Even fish jelly."

  "That was kind," Cord said, surprised. As the only Mehiran in permanent residence, he missed the taste of familiar food. At the vend-a-meal, he selected the fish jelly, among other items, not only because it was a treat but also to find out how well the kitchen mechanism did it.

  Their trays emerged from the chutes, and K led the way to a table. Hamilton K asked almost as many questions of Cord as he answered. It was like having one's brain sucked dry by a high-powered vacuum pump. However, Cord was adept at keeping his thoughts to himself, so he felt the conversation was mostly to his benefit. He ate the food with relish, finding the robo-chef as efficient as the Terrans' other gadgets.

  His host, he discovered, talked entertainingly and intelligently on many subjects: other species, trading ventures, interstellar politics and crime. Occasionally Cord asked a question. There was a point he had wondered about for some time.

  "Do all intelligent races but mine have space travel?"

  "By no means. Some have interplanetary travel but not interstellar ships. Some worlds that have not developed interstellar travel have bought faster-than-light ships from races that have. Terra invented FTL ships a thousand years ago, but other races had it earlier. And what we really need is the Empire's warp."

  The dictionary he had absorbed left something to be desired, Cord thought.

  "I know the word 'empire,' " he said, "and 'warp' is a term having to do with weaving, but…"

  "But they don't make much sense in this context? Of course, you've never heard of the Empire." Hamilton K sat back in his chair and began. "The Empire is what we call the civilization that flourished about a million years ago, throughout much of this part of the galaxy. 'Year,' I might add, means the Terran standard year, which is about three percent longer than Mehira's. The Empire ended-very suddenly, according to the archaeologists. We've found their traces on many worlds. They were more or less humanoid and apparently not much more advanced than we are-except that they traveled between the stars without using ships."

  In the pause that followed, Cord finally said, "They used a 'warp' instead?"

  "That is what we call it, for the sake of convenience. No one knows what it actually was, but we've never found any indication that they had spaceships-or ground transport, either. Their word for going from one room to another was the same as for going from one end of the galaxy to the other. Also, there are rooms in some of the best-preserved Empire sites which have no entrance. Some scientists believe the Imperials generated their own space warps whenever they wanted to go somewhere. If so, the secret died with them. A warp, theoretically, is a door you can go through to travel from one point to another instantaneously. It's only a theory. Black holes may be warps of a sort, but there is no record of anyone's surviving passage through one. At least, no one has come back to say so, if he has."

  Cord nibbled the corner of his block of fish jelly, which he had saved until last. Both texture and color were excellent- but the strong, salty flavor could not entirely mask a metallic tang. Cord swallowed with difficulty and quickly sipped the wine K had recommended. Well, fish jelly required a deft touch to prepare correctly, and the spaceport kitchen had evidently not mastered the technique. Or-more likely, since it probably had been bought ready-made-it had been stored improperly. Cord left the rest.

  A woman in a skin-tight tube dress-bosom to ankle, with nothing but friction to hold it up-undulated over to their table and greeted K. She invited them to a party she was holding in her quarters.

  "I would love to see your quarters," Hamilton K told her, grinning. "Preferably alone."

  From K's unconcealed admiration of the woman's form, and from her laughter, Cord gathered it was a witticism.

  "Would you like to come along with me now, both of you?" she invited. "I've got to stop and pick up something to drink, but then I'm going to my room to set it up. People will start coming almost anytime."

  "I could come just watching you in that skinny little dress," K responded. "What about you, Cord-are you game for a party?"

  "Yes, thank you. I would enjoy coming."

  "I'll see that you do," his hostess-to-be replied with a smile.

  ***

  Cord was unsure how to dress for a human party. Once out of uniform, the Terrans wore an amazing variety of raiments and adornments. Cord had brought little with him from his parents' dwelling unit, so he finally chose a simple dark tunic belted with leather.

  His hostess-the lithe blond woman in the impossible dress- occupied very spacious quarters. Hamilton K informed him that she was a department head, so her quarters had several rooms and a private office. Nearly every room was filled with humans, laughing, drinking, and openly fondling each other. Now that made Cord feel right at home-especially when several human women eyed him appreciatively.

  Hamilton K introduced Cord to a number of Terrans in rapid succession and then disappeared, leaving Cord to fend for himself. A small dark-haired woman, standing to his right, looked up at him.

  "Are all your people tall?" she asked.

  "No," he said. "Are all your people short?"

  She raised her glass in salute. "Touche."

  "Pardon me?" The word meant nothing to Cord.

  "It's an old Earther term for getting in the last word. I guess you shouldn't be expected to know all our languages."

  Cord lifted a tall drink filled with green liquid from a passing tray; it was carried by a buxom blonde who smiled invitingly at him. He smiled back but turned to the dark-haired woman beside him.

  "I've learned quite a bit of Multi-Lang. I'm a quick learner."

  "Are you now?" the woman said suggestively. A wet pink tongue ran slowly over her top lip. "By the way, my name's Tanna. And yours?"

  "Cord. Well, not exactly, but it's close enough to Mehiran for humans to say."

  "Perhaps my tongue can't handle your name, but it can handle other things…" She reached out and touched him, stroking his lightly furred skin. "I heard some interesting things about Mehirans. I was hoping to find them out firsthand."

  "I would be more than happy to show you," Cord said politely, with another smile. Despite the babble in the room, he'd let his barriers down slightly and could feel her strong emanation of desire. "I find the difference between our races quite fascinating."

  "And the main difference…?" prompted Tanna.

  "Tails," said Cord. His own tail was twitching in expectation.

  "You mean you use your tail for making-" Her perplexed look was replaced by calculated glee. She instantly set down her drink and grabbed Cord's hand. "This I've got to see!"

  "Feel," he corrected.

  She dragged him into another room. "Shouldn't we be going somewhere private?" he protested.

  "We are." Tanna led him into yet another room, which was dark and empty. This was their hostess's private office. Inside
was another built-in closet, spacious enough for them to fit in comfortably. Tanna was wearing a sleeveless blouse, which she quickly removed. Her skirt, held together by an invisible seam, ripped open quickly. He was surprised to see she wore nothing beneath. But then again, neither did he.

  He could feel that right now her desire was tempered with curiosity, so he removed his belt and tunic, although it wasn't really necessary.

  Her fingers played lightly over his pouch, while he caressed her smooth skin. Her hands roamed over his strong and lightly furred body and then came to rest again between his legs. He could feel his organ stirring in response. Slowly it emerged from the protective pouch.

  In the dim light he could see Tanna's eyes widen. "It's quite… different," she finally said.

  "Yes," agreed Cord, "but it still works in the same way."

  Standing up in the closet, Tanna spread her legs. Cord was about to enter her when the door to the office opened. Tanna closed the closet doors. "Don't stop now," she ordered.

  Entering her was simple enough; he could feel her varying emotions, so he assured her, "You won't be disappointed. I guarantee it."

  As their bodies moved together, his organ grew. Then he probed slowly with his tail. For a moment she stiffened, then relaxed as his tail probed deeper. She was sitting astride his bent legs now, offering no obstacle to any of his thrusts. Though she was already moaning with mounting desire, Cord bent forward and took a brown nipple into his mouth. Then as Tanna writhed with near ecstasy, he alternated thrusting as deep as he could while her muscles contracted in pleasure. She was nearly bucking herself off his legs, so he wrapped his arms around her and continued thrusting until she peaked. Then he came himself.

  She slid down his legs, still holding on to him. "Wow" was all she could manage until her breathing returned to normal. They dressed, and Tanna slid open the closet doors. The private office was now filled with more people, all of whom politely ignored their entrance into their midst from a closet.

  Cord went into the washroom to clean up. When he rejoined the party, Tanna came back to him leading two of her friends. They were two red-headed women who looked exactly alike.

  At his puzzled expression, Tanna said, "These are May and Mary. They're twins." She gave the word an odd emphasis.

  Tanna turned and left them alone. The definition of "twin" flashed across his mind, but there didn't seem to be an erotic significance attached to it. He smiled politely at the two women.

  "Tanna's just been telling us all about you," May said. To distinguish herself from her twin, she wore a green dress; Mary wore the identical dress in red. Both were low-cut in front and had slits up the sides, revealing identical pairs of shapely legs.

  "But of course you'd like to find out firsthand," Cord said.

  They all laughed. "Are you up to it?" asked Mary.

  "Not right now, but I will be."

  He followed them into a side room and then into another washroom. They turned on the lights and locked the door. They'd brought their drinks in with them, and carefully put the cups down on a countertop. These drinks were pink-colored, not like the green one he'd drunk earlier. May explained this was an aphrodisiac, so the three of them drained all the glasses before starting. Cord didn't think he needed it, but it couldn't hurt. Unfortunately, the first drink- and perhaps the first bout of lovemaking in a stuffy closet- was affecting him. He hoped the unfamiliar aphrodisiac would make him feel better. And if the drink couldn't, the women would.

  He discovered that among humans, making love to twins was considered a special treat. They made love separately, in pairs, and then all together. May and Mary shared everything… no body part was left untouched, no orifice left unfilled. And though he summoned every ounce of stamina he possessed, he felt himself flagging well before they finished. His head ached and his stomach was queasy. Even the intense pleasure the excited and energetic women brought him lost its appeal.

  When it was over, he decided to leave the party. He passed into the main living area, in search of his hostess. Along the way he had to decline several obliging offers from female guests. Tanna had certainly spread tales of her satisfaction, and no doubt the twins would do the same. In fact, he seemed the only uncomfortable guest at the party. He wanted water, not any of the alcoholic, sweet, and spiced beverages available.

  At last he found her, and managed to thank her for inviting him, and to make his excuses for leaving at such an early hour. It was not the most adroit speech he had ever made, but she accepted it at face value. Perhaps she ascribed its awkwardness to unfamiliarity with Multi-Lang.

  He made his escape into the passage and found it no cooler. Cord headed for the nearest tube on foot. Ordinarily he would have used the speedwalk, but he was in no condition to risk a fall, which could be dangerous at even the moderate speeds involved. Threading his way among the people on their way to or from parties or simply standing and talking with chance-met acquaintances, only the thought of his room's peace and quiet kept him going. Once away from the bustle and the pressure of so many uncontrolled minds, he would feel better.

  He made it to the trans tube, mercifully empty, and dialed for his floor. Its rapid surge made his stomach lurch. The sensation of heat had given way to chill. Leaning against the elevator's back wall, Cord shivered and wondered if he could have caught some human illness.

  On his own level he stumbled blindly along the corridor, more by instinct than by reason. There was no one to notice him, for which he was grateful. His throbbing head and burning stomach drove all thought of caution from him. If anyone had attacked him then, he would have died.

  It took several attempts to fit his palm to the door lock. Finally it admitted him. Cord groped his way into the bathroom. His body, at least, knew what was necessary.

  When there was nothing left in his stomach, Cord rinsed his mouth and then drank a little water. He dismissed the idea of taking a painkiller for the headache. His digestive system was in no condition to deal with anything at present. He lay down, fully clothed. The fever arid chills seemed to have abated.

  His mind began to operate at nearer its usual level of efficiency. Before, he had half concluded that it was some alien ailment against which he had no immunity. Now he thought of another explanation, one which might explain the abrupt onset of symptoms and the lingering aftertaste in his mouth.

  Poison.

  Though his food and drink had come from the automated robo-chef, Cord had no doubt that the food had been tampered with before it reached the table. He would willingly stake his life that no one could succeed in slipping something into his food in front of him. And no one could guarantee that a portion of food in the automated kitchen would be eaten by a particular person-unless it was a dish that only one person would order. The mechanics of his near-murder stood revealed. The murderer's plan was both subtle and obvious.

  Cord was the only Mehiran living in the port. For the next few days, while the holiday lasted, there would not even be Mehiran visitors who might stop for a snack. So until the vacation was over, Cord would be the only one likely to sample the recently added Mehiran food on the menu. And the danger to innocent bystanders could be reduced still further: a few humans might sample this world's foods out of curiosity, but none was likely to try the fish jelly. Humans seemed to find robustly flavored foods unpleasant.

  The murderer had planned well. How long would he have survived if he'd eaten the entire block of fish jelly? Or if he'd eaten it first? The chances were he'd escaped a quick death only because he had eaten too small an amount of the toxin. And perhaps because his stomach had contained a quantity of harmless food as well.

  CHAPTER 18

  Cord rose and stripped off his sweat-damp clothing. The garments were Dispoz-a-Cloz, so he stuffed them into the disposal unit. After showering, he felt better physically, but another disturbing thought had come to him.

  In all the criminal cases he had studied, criminals who committed a series of crimes followed the same pat
tern-what the humans called a modus operandi. This one used no special method Cord could detect. First a bombing, then a simple assault, then a poisoning. What kind of attack could he expect now?

  At home, Catching resembled a hunt, with most of the skill and odds on the hunter's side. This was more like an intricate dance, in which either of them might make an error and bring the pattern to a fatal halt.

  He must be prepared for the next move. Clad in a blue-and-green tunic and thigh-high boots, Cord slipped a blade into his right boot top-it was long, slender, and needle-sharp. He was ready. He was also utterly calm, he found. The attacks had something cold-blooded about them, something calculating. They were different from what he had encountered as a Catcher, and so he responded to them differently. There was no excitement in this, only determination to find his enemy.

  Cord slipped out into the hall as though in leaving his room he was leaving any doubt behind. A flash of movement caught his eye: something disappeared around the corner into the main hall. Someone watching his door and retreating so as not to be seen?

  He bounded down the corridor on swift, silent feet, and rounded the turn with blade drawn and murder in his eyes…

  To see O'as Garatua thoughtfully inspecting the selections in the clothing dispenser. Cord stopped short, poised on the balls of his feet, ready for any hint of attack.

  "What are you doing here?" he demanded.

  She looked at him with incurious black eyes. "I'm picking something to wear. Why? What business is it of yours?"

  "Why here?… almost in sight of my door?"

  "Where else? I live in this wing. Why am I letting you threaten me?" She looked at the knife.

  Cord relaxed his stance slightly, but kept his knife in his hand.

  "You came into the hall"-he jerked his head toward it-"and watched my door, didn't you?"