The Alien Trace [Cord 01]

by H M Major

  They lay there, gasping for breath. Julia sighed with satisfaction. "Your life may have been in danger, but it's your tail I'd really miss." At his expression, she hastily added, "But the rest of you is important too."

  They laughed and lay back in each other's arms. Cord nibbled on Julia's human, nonpointed ear. "I'm still hungry."

  "Is it dinnertime?" she asked innocently.

  "Who's talking about food?" He left a wet trail of kisses from her neck, along her shoulder, over her breastbone, and down to one impertinent nipple, poking up at him. "I've been confined in a small room with nothing to do but think about making love."

  She looked at him seriously. "And not thinking about revenge? Not thinking about putting together your infernal device?"

  Cord looked away. "I swore to my ancestors that I'd track down my parents' killer. As for the machine, I can't remember the final connections." That was the story he and O'as agreed upon; it came out without thinking. He certainly trusted Julia by now.

  "What does the doctor say? Will your memory come back?" Julia gazed at him with worried eyes. Cord loved her deep, dark eyes, like pools of night.

  "He says I'm fine… physically. Here, let me prove it to you."

  He stood up and pulled Julia upright too. Though she was not as tiny as Tanna, the girl from the party, he sat her astride his powerful legs. With her legs spread apart and around him, there was no obstacle to his entering her again. Then, so impaled, he tucked her feet over his calves and crouched down. She was his complete prisoner, unable to get away. His organ, which had shrunk to normal, was now able to probe her in a different way. In true Mehiran fashion, it touched her in delicate, feathery strokes as he controlled its slow, insistent probing. It probed just at the lips of the opening and deep within her. Julia shuddered at the pleasant but odd sensation. Before it began to swell and straighten, he could use it to touch any part of her that he desired.

  Using his strength to support her entire body on his muscular thighs, he made love to Julia until she was wild with passion, alternately trying to drive herself deeper onto his organ or fighting desperately to get away from it. He kept thrusting without a sense of time, until they'd both come again and again, their sweat-slicked bodies shuddering at just a mere touch.

  Julia finally dressed and went to buy some dinner. She brought back an assortment of packets, and they ate sitting cross-legged on the bed. She used the com-screen to punch in entertainment viewing-the first he'd had a chance to see, now that he could relax and not worry about dying.

  He slept with Julia that night. They were exhausted from loving, so they talked of many different things until they fell asleep. For the first time in a long time, Cord was content.

  ***

  The night wind was good on his face and in his nostrils. There were enticing scents in the rich air. Cord dreamed he was running over the marshland and scrub toward the city, leaving the spaceport far behind. There was something peculiar about his gait-he seemed to have an extra limb or two-but he couldn't see his legs. It didn't seem important-he had to get to the city.

  He loped into parkland. He recognized it and yet it was new to him. The enticing scents were much stronger here: the aromas of life.

  His running slowed to a walk. He cautiously approached some dense bushes. A couple lay twined beneath sharp green leaves that parted as he walked, ungainly, toward them. They turned their faces toward the rustling, to see the one who was so rudely breaking into their passion. Cord could see them clearly now: two young Mehirans, naked except for identical love-knots, woven into their braids and adorned with tiny golden beads.

  They screamed almost simultaneously, the girl in soprano, the boy in tenor. Instead of rearing back in mutually shared fright, Cord pressed forward. Their raw emotions filled him, sustained him, more strengthening than food or drink. He reached for them with huge, clawed hands/paws that slashed across the colors of their screams…

  Cord sat bolt upright, sweating, his heart pounding. He groped for Julia and made a strangled sound. She was not at his side. The room spun around him, and then a light snapped on suddenly from an adjoining space.

  Julia emerged, naked, from the washroom and ran toward him. "What's the matter? What's wrong?"

  "A nightmare," he managed to croak. He lay back on the perspiration-soaked pillows, and Julia stroked his head.

  "It's all right," she crooned. "I'm here."

  But it wasn't all right. In the back of his mind, Cord knew it would not be all right until the last pieces of the puzzle were solved. Like the other nightmares he'd had, Cord felt he'd been sharing the mind of a killer. Lion was dead, so a killer was still at large. Julia had called Lion a poor little man; Cord closed his eyes and pictured Lion's bloody body on the cafeteria floor. It was the wrong shape, the wrong size-his attacker had been a huge, boxlike human. What if Lion hadn't blown his parents to smithereens, hadn't tried to poison him, hadn't tried to bash in his brains? What if the real killer was still in the spaceport?

  Cord would have preferred being wrong to being dead.

  CHAPTER 21

  After a restless night and not much sleep, Cord rose early, just before dawn. Julia stirred and woke; she lay on the bed and her dark eyes watched him pace the cubicle, his tail twitching.

  Wordlessly they dressed, having decided to get some fresh air. They made their way out of the building, past a few early birds, and walked toward the edge of the landing field.

  "Word is out that a ship is coming in soon," Julia said. They trudged across the paved and barren field, watching the Mehiran sunrise. The sky was clear, and the breeze carried the scent of growing things.

  "I won't be on it when it leaves," Cord replied, to the unspoken question. "I'm not ready. There's still so much I need to learn. And I have to accumulate more money by further trading with Hamilton K."

  Julia linked her arm in his. "I'm glad you aren't leaving yet."

  When they reached the glassy black wall surrounding the spaceport, Julia reached out to touch it. She traced aimless patterns on the shiny surface.

  "What are you thinking about?" Cord asked when Julia had not said anything for a few moments.

  "I was wishing there were no walls-that I could travel anywhere I wanted to, when I wanted to. That it didn't take so much time and money and effort to travel, when it's Possible at all."

  So Julia felt confined by the port's isolation. He had thought he was the only one affected by it.

  "What you want is the Empire's warp." He laughed, remembering what K had told him.

  Julia stopped and stared at him.

  "Yes," she replied, "that's exactly what I want. How did you know?"

  "Doesn't everyone want freedom? Isn't that what the idea of the warp represents?" It would be good to be able to go where he wanted, without ties.

  "I wonder if it would give everyone freedom, though. You couldn't build one, could you, Cord?"

  Cord grinned. "I think it's beyond my skills-even beyond my mother's. If it were that simple, someone in your civilization would have duplicated it by now."

  "You must be right." She leaned against the black wall, stretching luxuriously. "I love the sunlight. It makes me feel so energetic."

  Her pale skin and red hair made a contrast with the obsidian darkness behind her.

  "Cord?"

  "Yes?"

  "It seems strange that we are so much alike, coming from such different backgrounds, such different worlds."

  "Yes, it does, doesn't it," Cord replied. He had often thought Julia and he shared many traits.

  Impulsively, she brushed her lips across his. "You'd better get back to your work," she said. "I've kept you away from it too long."

  It was true, but Cord didn't mind at all.

  "Meet you tonight?" he asked.

  "I'd like to-but I am due for a whole day's meditation and devotions. Since you came here, I've skimped on my spiritual care, I'm afraid."

  "Tomorrow, then?"

  Julia smiled. "B
y then, I will have recovered from your 'attentions.' Besides, if the ship is coming, we'll no doubt have a celebration. This time, I'll make sure you celebrate with me!"

  Cord left Julia sunning herself by the wall and returned to his lab. He nodded at the security guard outside and let himself in. He worked most of the morning, and completed the telepathy device. Its awkwardness was a drawback, he decided. One could not walk around holding a strange object the size of a large fruit and making excuses to touch people. So he modified the shape, making it flatter, and added straps.

  When he was done, the telepathic receiver could be worn around the waist, hidden under a loose shirt.

  Of course, he did not know whether his prototype worked, having no assistant on whom to test it. But since he had promised to call O'as today, he would test the device on the head of security…

  She was sitting at her desk, staring at a pile of grubby, much-folded papers. When he entered she looked up.

  "I was wondering when I'd hear from you." The words were brusque, as usual, but Cord caught an undertone of unease.

  "What's the matter?" he asked.

  "I went back to Lion's unit last night and searched it again. I was careless the first time. He'd kept all the poison-pen letters. Quite a nasty assortment-whoever sent them knew exactly what strings to pull. The whole idea of there being things in the tunnels was suggested to him. When he began to believe it, the letters began to suggest that he was going crazy."

  "Not nice," Cord agreed. "May I take a look?" He reached for the notes. His hand brushed Garatua's as he took them.

  … hate it when people touch me… he didn't mean anything… clever… might help… wonder if he's satisfied about Pars… wish I were…

  The brief contact permitted him to read no more.

  "I've been over them. No fingerprints now except Lion's. They're all screen printouts-you can use the screen to print a document without its going into the memory. Each one was printed on a different screen: there are microscopic differences in the letters."

  "Do you think you can find the sender?"

  "I intend to try," Garatua said. "By the way, I'm not happy with the case against Pars. It doesn't feel right."

  Cord certainly knew what she meant. Catching relied on guesswork and intuition, as well as hard work.

  "What are you going to do about it?" he asked cautiously.

  "Right now, I'm letting Pars take all the blame. He's dead; it can't do him any harm. But his confidant-or partner, I don't know which-is still on the loose. What about you?"

  "I will try to finish the telepathic receiver. If it works, we can check everyone in this port until we find out the truth."

  But he did not care to mention that such an undertaking might be tedious and difficult. He couldn't line them all up and touch each one. Though he might have to as a last resort. Nor did he plan to tell O'as that the mind reader device was already operational. He wanted to catch the killer himself.

  ***

  Cord had not seen Hamilton K since the night of the party. He still distrusted the Trade Agent, but it was expedient to mask his feelings. Well, he was used to it.

  An inquiry about the best forms of interstellar exchange was the excuse for his visit. It was data which would be valuable when he left Mehira.

  "You will find it convenient to take your pay in several ways," K told him. "And we'll make payment in any manner you specify. But if I were you, I'd opt for Ismanian notes, flame beryls, Ten Suns stock and TerraBank traveler's checks. Those things are easy to exchange on any planet with a spaceport. If you were taking a ship to an uncivilized world, you'd need trade goods. What you needed would depend on the cultural level, climate, and so forth. But I don't suppose you're thinking of setting up as a trader?"

  "No. I will go someplace where my skills are needed."

  "If you wish to apply for employment with Ten Suns, I'll give you a reference. There are police agencies of various sorts, too. Or bounty hunting, if you prefer to be independent."

  "Thank you. I am not sure yet what I want to do. First I'll have to look around," Cord said.

  "Well, you'll have enough money for a decent vacation while you do. You know there's a ship spacing in soon?"

  "I've heard talk. What if I chose to leave with it?"

  "Things aren't formal here. If you let the purser know at least an hour before it departs, that's good enough. Even if the passenger accommodations are full, they always have an extra cabin or two in the crew's quarters. Not as luxurious, perhaps, but not bad."

  "Good. Thank you for your help, Trade Agent." As he stood up, Cord dropped a printout he had made earlier. It fell on Hamilton K's desk.

  Hamilton picked it up and passed it to Cord. Their fingers met only briefly, but it was enough.

  … paying too little for his stuff…he'll smarten up… reminds me of myself… too bad about his parents, his mother was…

  Cord tucked the paper into his pocket and left the office. He reflected that he had gained a great deal of data. He was not being given enough for the inventions he had to offer, and the telepathy device had a definite drawback. It was possible only to read what went through the other's mind at the moment of touching him. As far as Cord could tell at this time, K might be guilty.

  Next time, Cord would mention the murder of his parents when using the mind reader.

  CHAPTER 22

  Cord sat in the cafeteria, ignoring his meal. He doodled on a pad, drawing wreaths of leaves and vines. They interconnected endlessly, like his thoughts. Was the killer dead or alive? Did he have one murder to deal with, or two? What did a killer who worked with bombs and poison have to do with one who killed like a beast?

  He gave up sketching and stared into the aquarium opposite his table. The unappealing blue thing was feeding on tiny shellfish. Someone entering the room cast a shadow on the tank. The creature froze. Its long, brilliant-blue body contracted and darkened to muddy brown. It had become a stone.

  Cord left the table and went over to peer into the water, as close as the glass permitted. He wished he could touch the object, to discover whether it felt as much like rock as it looked. The experiment was impossible: the tank was sealed. Disgustedly he returned to his place and picked up his drink.

  "Hello, Cord," a voice greeted him. "May I join you?"

  He looked up and smiled in recognition. Tanna dimpled in return. "I wasn't sure you'd recognize my… face."

  She set her tray down next to his. It held a large sausage, a tall, stalklike vegetable, and a pastry filled with a fluffy white substance.

  "That's a very phallic-looking meal," Cord observed.

  "Any of these foods could be you," Tanna said, straight-faced, "you're so versatile. But the end result is somewhat different." She nipped the end off the sausage. "But tell me, what were you thinking about so hard?"

  "It was something that occurred to me suddenly. I know little of the galaxy's species. After all, everyone here at the port is either Terran or human."

  "Terrans are humans, but the converse isn't necessarily true. Terrans are humans who come from the planet Terra.

  There are some worlds originally colonized by Terrans, and there are planets inhabited by people of basically human stock who evolved on worlds other than Terra. Then there are the humanoid races, like Mehirans. Is that confusing enough for you?" she asked, her eyes quizzical.

  "What about non-humanoid species? Are there any? Are any of them similar to-well, to that thing in the aquarium, for instance?"

  "Marine life forms, you mean? Several, at least. Maybe more."

  "Are there any shape changers?" Cord pursued.

  "Oh! Like the Harno shifter in being able to alter their form-I see." Tanna finished the sausage and then took dainty bites of the vegetable. "No, intelligence and shape shifting are mutually exclusive. Although holodramas about were-animals are always popular."

  "Ah." An intriguing hypothesis ruled out. It was too bad. That left the possibility of a person-or creature-hid
ing in the port's labyrinthine underpinnings. It explained both the man who had attacked him and Lion's monster. Such a being might be aware of K's "emergency" exits.

  "A promising line of thought?" Tanna's pink tongue flicked the last bit of filling out of the remaining morsel of pastry.

  "If I can tear my mind away from certain distractions," he said. "Watching that tongue of yours makes me want to peel your clothes right off."

  "I've been told that before." She laughed. "Unfortunately, I'm due back at my job. Later, maybe?"

  "Anytime." He should get on with his work, too. Cord thought about calling Julia but decided against it. She would still be at her devotions, and while he regarded her religious beliefs as peculiar and rather unwholesome, he owed them respect.

  At the screen in his shop he made printouts of the plans of the spaceport. They took up the top of his largest table. Cord set aside all but the sheets showing the lowest levels. The rest showed a tracery of passages and ducts through which someone might travel, but the lowest levels were likely to be its home.

  It did not take long to confirm what he already suspected, to would be easy to travel from almost any part of the complex to any other part. There were even tunnels under the field to give access to the guidance systems which assisted spaceships in landing. The spaceport was a Catcher's nightmare. Venture into that maze after someone and you would run the risk of having him double back and come up behind you. Nor could Cord think of any way to block the ducts and passages. You might lead a full-scale armed expedition-if you had enough manpower. He didn't, and he suspected Hamilton K wouldn't permit it anyway. The idea of turning dozens of armed, untrained port personnel loose in the tunnel system did not appeal to Cord either. He played with a few other ideas, one of which was pumping in anesthetic gas. The drawbacks were the quantity of gas required and the danger of sedating the entire port.