Mystic

by Cheryl Brooks

  “There was never any need for concern,” Giklor insisted. “As you can see, her recovery is nearly complete.”

  “I’ll believe that when I see her walk,” Abuti said.

  Sula glanced around the table. “I take it Rashe went home?”

  Abuti began scooping a generous portion of fettuccini onto her plate. “Yeah, he had other stuff to do.” With a scathing glance at the Zerkan, she added, “Giklor obviously didn’t.”

  Her blatant animosity toward Giklor was a little surprising, although without a patient to care for, the two girls would be back at the orphanage soon. Sula hadn’t seen the orphanage, but she doubted it was large enough for each of the girls to have her own room. Aidan’s house probably seemed like a luxury hotel to them. Sula felt that way herself.

  “I will also be accompanying you on your journey to Ursa Prime,” Giklor said. “On such adventures, a healer is a necessary part of the team.”

  “Aidan is a pretty good medic himself,” Abuti said. “I don’t think we’ll need you.”

  Sula hid her smile. She wasn’t entirely sure Abuti was needed, either.

  “Ah, but what would happen if he were to be seriously injured?” Giklor countered. “You would certainly need me then.”

  “Good point,” Aidan said. “Although I have no intention of becoming injured, we need to prepare for every possibility.”

  “Have you found a ship yet?” Sula asked.

  Aidan nodded. “Curly’s on the way. Should be here later tonight. He’s the youngest of Cat and Jack’s first litter—a little on the cocky side, and about as mouthy as his mother. Fantastic pilot too.”

  “I take it he has a fast ship?”

  “Absolutely. Trust me, he wouldn’t have it any other way. In fact, he insists that his ship is faster than the Jolly Roger. Of course, Jack disagrees”—he chuckled as he passed the pasta sauce to Abuti—“rather vehemently.”

  “I’m surprised they haven’t held a race to prove it.”

  “That would be too easy,” Aidan said. “Especially since their conversation consists primarily of recounting their various exploits. If they ever established which ship was faster, they’d have nothing to say to one another.”

  While this was probably an exaggeration, never having met Jack or her son, Sula could only trust Aidan’s judgment.

  “Handsome devil too,” Abuti said. “Not as gorgeous as Aidan, but then, so few men are.”

  “Better not let him hear you say that,” Aidan warned. “I’d never hear the end of it.”

  Abuti shrugged her bony shoulders. “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, you know. I happen to prefer blonds.”

  Heretofore, Sula’s preference had been for dark-haired men, although Aidan was enough to make her reconsider. He was not only blond, he was from another planet.

  Never thought I’d find an alien man attractive.

  Although if anyone were going to make her do that, she probably could’ve guessed it would be a Zetithian. She’d been as intrigued by their photographs as any of her fellow students. She’d just never seen one that was blond. “Say, does that Cat fellow have black hair and a scar on his cheek?”

  Aidan nodded his somewhat puzzled reply.

  “There was a picture of him in one of my textbooks,” Sula explained. “We all used to drool over him.”

  * * *

  Aidan’s heart skipped a few beats on its way to his feet. “Curly looks a lot like him—minus the scar.”

  If Sula noticed his dismay, it didn’t show. “I’d love to meet Cat someday,” she said. “Although none of my classmates would ever believe me. Of course, that’s assuming I’ll live long enough to tell anyone about it.”

  Qinta held up her hand, spreading her fingers into a V between her second and third fingers. “You will live long and prosper.”

  Aidan rolled his eyes. “You’ve been watching old Star Trek episodes again, haven’t you?”

  “Yep.” Qinta stared at him for a moment. “Did anyone ever tell you Zetithian dudes how much you look like Vulcans?”

  “Only the ears and the eyebrows,” Aidan said wearily. “We certainly aren’t as emotionless as Vulcans—or as logical. Plus, they don’t have fangs or curly hair. Can’t purr, either.” Deeming it inappropriate in present company, he stopped before mentioning the snard.

  Sula shook her head with apparent bewilderment. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Aidan patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry. No one else would understand unless they’d been around someone who’d grown up with Jack. She’s always pushing to revive Old Earth culture. No one else seems very interested.”

  “Some of those old recipes are really good, though,” Abuti said. “This puttanesca sauce is one of them.” She stuffed a forkful of pasta into her mouth. “Thanks for making it, Aidan.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said. “Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

  Abuti gave him a cheeky, fettuccini-laced grin. “Figured you’d get around to saying that eventually.”

  “You don’t want Sula to think you’ve been raised in a slipshod orphanage, do you?”

  “No. But to be fair, I haven’t lived there my whole life. None of us have.”

  “True,” he acknowledged. “There’s a definite advantage to starting young.”

  “I wish I had lived there all my life,” Qinta said solemnly. “Nobody ever gave a damn about me until I decided to go there. I had plenty of freedom while living on the street, but being on your own isn’t everything it’s cracked up to be.”

  Aidan had always suspected Qinta of being a runaway. To his knowledge, no one had ever questioned her origins, but they hadn’t needed to. That she’d been abused was obvious to anyone who knew the signs. Although she’d improved during her time at the orphanage, while she seemed cheerful enough when spoken to, left to herself, her expression tended to grow pensive and, occasionally, angry. “We’re very glad you came, and I’m grateful for your help with Sula’s care.”

  To his surprise, the Treslanti girl actually blushed. “Don’t be. I owe you and the other adults at the orphanage a debt I can never repay.”

  “Your continued health, safety, and happiness are all that’s required.” He glanced at Abuti. “And the same goes for you.”

  “Safety, huh?” Abuti said brusquely. “Does that mean you’ve already changed your mind about taking us with you?”

  “No,” he replied. “You were right about that. Leaving you here to be captured and possibly tortured by that assassin fellow isn’t part of the deal. I just hope Curly has enough room for us on his ship. Otherwise, we may have to double up.”

  Abuti snickered. “I’ll bunk with Qinta. That way, you and Sula can room together.”

  Aidan barely had time to register the surge of joy the prospect of sleeping with Sula gave him before Giklor lodged a protest. “What about me?” he demanded. “Don’t I get a roommate?”

  “Nope,” Abuti said firmly. “Nobody wants to wake up with your creepy tongue down their throat. You can sleep on the couch.”

  “I never treat anyone against their will,” Giklor said with an indignant tilt of his chin. “That would be unethical.”

  Abuti flicked her fingers in dismissal. “I’m still not sleeping in the same room with you, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone else.”

  “You don’t care for Zerkans, do you, Abuti?” Giklor said sadly. “What a pity when we are such a useful, caring species.”

  “So are Norludians, but nobody likes us, either,” Abuti shot back. “We have to have someone to dislike.”

  “Or we can each decide to treat others the way we would want to be treated,” Aidan said. “Without bias or hatred or any preconceived notions.”

  “Tell that to the kids who pick on me,” Abuti grumbled.

  “Tolerance has to
start somewhere,” Aidan reminded her. “Let it begin with you.”

  * * *

  Sula gazed at Aidan with increasing respect. He would make such a wonderful father. Funny how she’d never considered that when evaluating a man before—unless it was to judge the family life of a species she happened to be studying. She’d certainly never looked for that quality in any sexual partner—at least not intentionally. Come to think of it, that was another of the reasons her classmates had been so desirous of finding a Zetithian husband. Not only was their sexual prowess unsurpassed by the males of any other species, theirs had never been anything but an egalitarian society. Even on Earth, the taint left by patriarchal societies hadn’t disappeared completely. Case in point, her parents’ expressed desire to choose a husband for her. No doubt they would have approved of Raj, but Aidan? Probably not.

  Still, her parents weren’t omniscient, nor could either of them live her life for her. Aside from the physical impossibility, she simply wouldn’t allow it. She’d come too far and seen too much to let anyone do that.

  For now, however, she was content to let the conversation play out around her. Aidan chatted easily with the two girls, which prompted Giklor to voice his own restrictive notions regarding child-rearing. Sula’s knowledge of Zerkans was negligible, mainly because so little was actually known about them. Having met Giklor, she doubted anyone would be capable of discovering very much, even if they tried. He seemed to enjoy being the sort of enigmatic alien common in old science fiction stories. Perhaps the entire species felt the same way, because if anyone had ever done any research into Zerkan healing fluids, they hadn’t bothered to publish their findings.

  “I’ll never understand the workings of the human mind.”

  Sula glared at Abuti, who appeared to be the one who’d spoken. “What did you say?”

  “You heard me,” Abuti replied. “You’re sitting there staring off into space while we’re discussing the fate of the universe.”

  “The fate of the universe?” Sula echoed. “Oh, you are not.”

  “No? Then what were we talking about?”

  “I have absolutely no idea.”

  “Stop it, Abuti,” Aidan warned.

  Abuti waved her hands in protest. “I’m not doing anything.”

  “I’m so tired. Can’t cope…” Sula stared at her hands, which were quivering in a rather alarming manner. When she shook her head and looked again, her eyes felt scratchy and dry, but her hands at least appeared to be normal. The way they felt was another story altogether. “What have you done to me? My fingers are numb, and all I want to do is sleep.”

  Aidan’s face swam before her own. “What did you do to her, Giklor?”

  “Nothing out of the ordinary,” the Zerkan said firmly. “She should be fine now.”

  “Fine, hell,” Aidan exclaimed. “She looks like a damned ghost—or at least like she’s seen one.” He tilted his head to one side and peered at her with his glowing, catlike eyes. As she watched him, his head seemed to change shape, becoming elongated and oversized, much like the people depicted in the cave drawings.

  “There is something wrong with me,” Sula whispered. “I think I’m—”

  Asleep.

  She awoke with a jolt that nearly gave her whiplash. “Sorry. Must’ve dozed off for a second.”

  “You were asleep a lot longer than that,” Abuti declared. “The doorbell just rang. I’m guessing that’ll be Curly.”

  Chapter 15

  Curly Tshevnoe had always been cool. But during the time since Aidan had last seen him, he’d somehow managed to up the coolness factor.

  Exponentially.

  Even as a kid, there’d been something of the swashbuckler about him. Now in his late twenties, he looked more like a pirate than ever. Tall and lean like most Zetithian men, he had his father’s jet-black hair and obsidian eyes, but his personality was all Jack—right down to the pulse pistol strapped to his thigh. He stood on Aidan’s back doorstep with his feet shoulder-width apart and his arms folded over a broad chest. His waist-length curls were braided back from the left side of his face—a style he’d adopted in his youth to prevent his hair from interfering with his piloting skills or his left-handed aim—leaving one pointed ear fully exposed. Clad in black leather from his jacket to his boots, one look at him had Aidan wishing he and Sula were already mated.

  On top of that, if she’d needed someone to back her up in this adventure, Curly was far better equipped to help her. Not only was he an excellent shot, he had his own ship. Then again, Curly couldn’t fly, control the wind, or predict the future.

  We each have our own strengths.

  Still, when he shook Curly’s hand in greeting, he glimpsed a fate that, if he’d read it correctly, reassured him greatly. The love of Curly’s life wasn’t going to be Sula.

  For the first time in recent memory, a reading hadn’t filled him with dread or despair. This also marked one of the few times he’d been able to read the fortune of someone he’d known from childhood. He’d picked up a few things when they were kids—minor setbacks and the occasional schoolboy triumph—but nothing to suggest anyone’s more distant future. Perhaps a separation period was all that was needed to enhance that ability. Or perhaps they’d both simply needed to grow up.

  “Hey, Curly. Thanks for getting here so quickly.”

  Curly shrugged. “No sweat. Speed is my middle name, remember?”

  Aidan couldn’t help but smile. “How could I possibly forget?” Fortunately, if hearsay was to be believed, Curly wasn’t too fast to satisfy the ladies. Rumor had it that he’d left more than a few broken hearts scattered throughout the cosmos, although Aidan suspected his lifestyle was more to blame for that than anything. Finding a mate who was willing to spend her life in space wasn’t always easy, even for a Zetithian. Even giving a woman a sample of snard didn’t always guarantee success, and there were several species that weren’t affected by it at all.

  Aidan waved him inside. “Still going it alone?”

  “Nope,” Curly replied. “I finally hired a navigator. He’s also a damn good pilot. I have to sleep sometime. Dunno how Mom did it by herself for so long.”

  “Relied on the autopilot a lot, I guess,” Aidan suggested.

  “Probably so.” Curly arched a brow as he glanced around the kitchen. “You said there would be other passengers?”

  Aidan was a little surprised no one had followed him to the door. A giggle from a nearby corner made him realize that at least one of them had. “Come on, Qinta. Enough with the disappearing act.”

  “Aw, you’re no fun at all,” Qinta complained as she slowly reappeared. She took a moment to sweep Curly with an assessing gaze. “I’m guessing he’d be a good sport, though.”

  “Not always,” Aidan said, recalling a few of their childhood rivalries. “Curly, I’d like you to meet Qinta, who will be one of your passengers. As you can see, Qinta is Treslanti.”

  Curly nodded and extended a hand. “Nice to meet you, Qinta.”

  Qinta wasted no time in responding with a vigorous handshake. “Pleased to meet you too. We’ve heard a lot about you at the orphanage.”

  Curly’s narrow-eyed gaze was no less assessing than hers had been. “You must be one of the newer inmates. I don’t believe we’ve met, and I certainly would’ve remembered you if we had. With that hair, you look just like Natasha, Warrior Queen of the Varbains.”

  Qinta stared at Curly in frank disbelief. “You play video games?”

  “All the time,” he replied. “Space travel can be super boring. Gotta have something to do.”

  Qinta still didn’t seem convinced. “Are you any good?”

  “Haven’t lost a match yet,” Curly said with a defiant lift of his chin.

  “Oh, come on now,” Aidan chided. “Your brother Moe has beaten you a dozen times or more.”

  “
That’s only because he can move his fingers almost as fast as those orange toad people on Barada Seven,” Curly insisted. “I’m better at strategy.”

  With a conspiratorial glance at Aidan, Qinta giggled. “He is kinda full of himself, isn’t he?”

  “A bit,” Aidan agreed. “But he grows on you after a while.” Motioning for Curly to follow, he headed into the dining room. “Come on in and meet the rest of the gang. We’ve been hashing out plans all evening.”

  * * *

  If Sula had once suspected Aidan of being an angel, his friend Curly could’ve passed for the devil—as in devilishly tempting and dangerously handsome. He had an air of recklessness about him that was as exciting as it was frightening. Although to be honest, most Zetithians did look a tad scary. With their fangs and glowing eyes, anyone on the receiving end of their ire would certainly be shaking in their shoes.

  Curly, however, seemed perfectly friendly as the introductions were made. Even so, she shuddered to think how he would appear to someone staring at him over the business end of his pistol.

  “It’ll be interesting to hear your opinion of our plans,” Abuti said as she shook hands with Curly. “They seem too cautious to me.”

  “Do you have a problem with bringing everyone back alive?” Aidan asked.

  “No,” the Norludian girl replied. “But this sounds like a good way to fall into a trap. We can’t just walk in and start accusing people of genocide.”

  Curly’s nonplussed expression was priceless. “Genocide?”

  Aidan nodded. “Seems someone’s been using biological weapons to conquer planets without firing a single shot.”

  “Sounds illegal and immoral.”

  “That’s putting it mildly,” Sula said. “Although I’m still not sure who’ll take responsibility for arresting the culprits. It isn’t as though there’s a galaxy-wide ruling body.”

  Sula had never been a student of politics before. However, this particular crime highlighted the need for some sort of galactic police force and judicial system. Most planets only prosecuted those who committed crimes on their own world. Crimes in space and on uninhabited planets tended to go unpunished. A few worlds had extradition treaties with others, but those were in the minority.