His body of fur, still without clothes. It wasn’t that unusual for Helks to walk around without them, particularly since the “objectionable” parts of Helk anatomy were out of sight.
The Helk stunner had done quite the number on him. Evidently humans and Helks suffered the same effects. Dizzy, Brindos tried to sit up three times without success. He decided just to stand, so he rolled over, pushed himself to his knees, and managed to haul himself off the floor. He half expected to see Red and Blue in a corner keeping watch, stunners leveled. The other half expected to see Joseph and his glowing fingers. He shuddered.
No one else was in the room. The red light came from a single bare bulb in its socket that dangled from the middle of the room on a rope, the wires snaking up to the ceiling and disappearing up there.
The walls were made of the same redbrick of the alley, the floor made of concrete. A wooden door, old and warped, tempted him from the far side of the room. It was tall enough for a First Clan Helk to walk through without stooping.
Big enough for me to walk through without stooping.
White light seeped in around the edges. He had the feeling that if he tried, he could easily break the door down. Stacked against the wall on both sides of the door were white plastic see-through canisters filled with something, but in the low light he couldn’t tell what.
Brindos moved toward the door, and the strong odor he’d smelled when he woke up grew stronger. It was coming from the canisters, and he nervously approached one. As soon as he did, he knew he wouldn’t find something horrible inside, even though for a moment he considered he had become part of some horrible genetic experiment to create Helk replacement body parts. He identified the smell right then.
Spices. The effect of the pungent, biting aroma on his eyes and nose told him they were Helk spices.
Brindos had seen the yellow door of the Restaurant just before Blue and Red knocked him out with their stunners, so he wondered if this was a storeroom in the back.
Looking behind him, he spotted more containers along the back wall. Then he eyed the door again. Familiar.
And then he knew. He was on the other side of it now, but it was the same door he’d passed before Tom Knox had grabbed him by the throat. The door he’d thought led to the authentic portion of the Restaurant. He wondered if the place had an authentic portion at all.
Perhaps the place was a front after all. Not for body parts, but something Joseph and Plenko had involved themselves in. Something Movement.
Brindos eyed the door, but without warning, his stomach did a few flips. Thinking the spices were affecting his part Helk, part human body, he closed his eyes and held his nose.
No use. The pain that came suddenly shot through his midsection like a hot knife slicing through skin and muscle. He screamed a guttural, nonhuman yell and fell to his knees, arms clutching his stomach. He forgot about the fur, and it surprised him not to touch bare skin; a moment later it didn’t matter as the pain doubled and he fell and curled into a half moon on the floor.
This was not human.
Brindos had never considered pain in that way before. Pain built for a Helk, and yet he felt he couldn’t endure it another second. A wave of stabbing sensations traveled up and down his body and he cried out again, unable to control anything.
Soon every inch of him throbbed with red-hot agony, and there didn’t seem to be an end to it. He would just suffer until whatever was affecting his body passed. If it passed at all.
The door opened.
He didn’t see it open, but the quality of light changed, the red washing out. The door squeaked a little on its hinges.
“Hold him down,” a deep voice commanded.
Brindos wheezed, now cradling his head. The knife stabs had moved there, ripping at his brain.
Large hands grabbed at his arms, and more hands snagged his legs and feet. He thrashed, screaming louder, but his captors held him down. Two of them, probably. Red and Blue? He thought they must be Helks for them to manhandle him so easily. Helkhandle him.
“Got him,” said a voice near his head. “Stick him.”
Panicking, Brindos doubled his efforts, hoping to escape them and the cutting pain at the same time. A viselike grip clamped on his arm at the elbow and a second later something sharp punctured his shoulder. It might have hurt if the other pain hadn’t so consumed him.
Brindos opened his eyes and found himself staring straight above at the red lightbulb. He still couldn’t see who was holding him down, their grips tight on his limbs.
“Relax,” the voice said. “We’ve got you. It’ll be another moment. Just relax. Do you understand?”
Brindos managed a deep breath and squeezed out a raspy reply. “Who are you?”
The voice that had spoken first said something next; he was holding Brindos’s feet. “You’ll be okay in a little bit.”
A wave of nausea slid through him, but the pain was lessening with each passing second. “Who are you?” Brindos repeated, then he felt warm all over, and his vision started to blur.
“Who we are doesn’t matter,” said the voice at his feet. “Who you are does, and we’ll find that out soon enough.”
Head spinning, eyes closed, and, unbelievably, the pain subsided. “You know me. I’m Terl Plenko, and I demand you let me go, or so help me—”
“Or what? Even if that were true, you’d be in no shape to do anything.”
“You—” Brindos struggled to get out the words. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. The red lightbulb blurred in and out. “You tell Joseph. Tell him I want to see him. Now. Now, do you hear?”
A face appeared over him, a Helk face. He caught a flash of blue around its neck.
“Joseph,” the Helk said. He moved his head to look toward Brindos’s feet, and the underside of his jaw was clothed in blue. “We know any Joseph?”
“That’s enough,” the other said. “There’s certainly no Joseph here. No more questions.”
And with that they let go, quickly exited the room, slammed the door shut, and left Brindos on the floor. The pain that had so incapacitated him subsided to a dull ache, but now he had another problem.
He couldn’t move.
At least he didn’t pass out.
For nearly an hour he lay there unable to move. Unable to sleep. Unable, even, to think about his horrific transformation, capture, or what he could do about it. Nothing. He just stared at the red bulb in a fog. A fog that enveloped and fed him with a sense of euphoric abandon, but also debilitating dread. He remembered turning his head slightly at one point, seeing the door to possible freedom a few body lengths away, then giving in to the fog of apathy and bliss. He turned his head away and closed his eyes.
Who cares about revolution?
Who cares about Union?
Who cares about goddamn Alan Brindos?
About humans, Memors, even the human race. Fuck Helkunntanas.
He smiled, and the sensation of leathery skin around his face wrinkling felt oddly satisfying. Then the light washed out again, the wooden door opening. He didn’t bother to turn his head, preferring to luxuriate in the miasmic fog. Footsteps on the concrete. Two Helks looking down. Maybe he’d seen them before. So what? They were blocking his light.
“Sit up,” one of them said.
Didn’t they know he couldn’t move?
“You could’ve got up a half hour ago.”
“I like it down here,” he said, barely remembering why he was there in the first place.
“Get up,” another of them said, his voice rattling like a garbled transmission. First Clan. He leaned over with a snarl.
“Who’s going to make me? You and whose army?” he said, remembering some witty saying from his distant past. He thought it clever and laughed heartily.
Immediately they set upon him, grabbing and lifting him to his feet. It did take both of them, though, because at that moment he found he could indeed move, and fought against them the whole time they grasped and pulled him
over to sit on the containers full of Helk spices. He took a deep breath and took in the smell, suddenly very hungry. The spice wasn’t bothering him now at all. He recognized kelska, a subtle spice that Helks used like salt and that most humans couldn’t stomach in even small amounts.
“You’ve got a visitor, Terl,” the Helk said. He didn’t see which one said it, because his eyes were closed, enjoying the aromas. “If that’s who you are.”
“Who else would I be?” he said.
“She’ll know better than anyone,” the rattling voice said, “considering you’re married to her.”
He sobered up. He opened his eyes and followed the entrance of a young human woman into the storeroom. She was tall and slender, and a trace of amusement flashed in her brown eyes as she stopped in front of him, her hands on her hips. Mixed marriages between Helks and humans were rare, but not unheard of. Still, he could hardly believe that this wisp of a human woman could love, let alone love, a First Clan Helk.
Love me, he thought.
She looked like she could float away at any moment. She wore a black jumpsuit that clung to her curves and accentuated her wide hips.
Even though he was sitting, she still had to look up at him. She pulled her long black hair back behind her ears. “Poor thing,” she whispered.
She reached up and touched his face, and it made him wince. Not due to any pain. Not revulsion. But because of the tenderness in the touch, as if she were afraid he might vanish from her sight in an instant.
“Terl, what have you been up to?” she asked. Looking him over head to toe, she shook her head. “Where are your clothes?”
“So it’s him,” one of the Helks said. Red jumpsuit. “You’re sure.”
The woman turned to him with a frown on her face. “Well, of course it’s him, Chinkno. Are you blind as well as stupid?”
Chinkno held up his hands. “Hey, listen. Knox and I found him like this, and I’ve never seen him act this way—”
“He’s been through a lot over the past few weeks, and you know it.”
Yes, I have been through a lot, he thought. But he couldn’t remember anything.
“It’s just that he didn’t talk right,” Chinkno said. “He seemed … off. He didn’t seem to follow what I was saying about where he’d been.”
“You gave him that sedative, so how could he have said anything that made any sense?” the woman said.
“But what about before then? He didn’t seem to know about the sabotage at Tower One. He tried to run away from us out back. Then all that yelling and screaming.”
“Look, I’m his mate. I know my husband when I see him. I’ll find out what the screaming was about,” she said. “Leave us.”
The other Helk spoke up then. “I’m not sure it’s safe.”
She gazed into his eyes, squinting a little. “He’s fine,” she said, the whisper coming back to her voice. “I’m safe. I’ve got something else to calm him if he needs it. Now go.”
Chinkno shrugged, then headed out the door. The other followed. Once the door shut, the woman took a step back and reached inside a pocket of her black jumpsuit. She pulled out a couple of red, coarse papers and held them to her nose. She took a deep breath, then smiled.
“You don’t know who I am, do you?” she asked.
His fog had completely disappeared now, but he didn’t understand any of this any better than before. “You don’t know who I am either,” he guessed.
“You’re not my husband,” she said.
“I’m Plenko.”
She tilted her head and frowned. “You’re not Plenko.”
“I’m a Helk.”
“That much seems true. But who else are you?”
“Who else?” He lowered his gaze to his clubbed feet. Who else? “I don’t know. I don’t remember.”
She touched his shoulder, the one someone had stuck with a needle, or whatever it was, to administer the sedative. “Don’t worry. I’ll help you remember.”
When he looked up she was stepping back again, and now she had her hands around those red papers, slowly rolling them. She licked them both, and red dye stained her tongue. She popped one in her mouth and handed the other one to him.
“It’s RuBy,” she said. “It’s going to help a lot. Take it.”
The red paper nearly disappeared in his hand.
She went over to the wall, pulled a container out, and positioned it in front of him. She sat down and craned her neck up to look at him. “We better find out who you are.”
“What about the others?”
“I lied to them. I have a secret.” She winked, then closed her eyes as the RuBy hit her. When she opened them, they were glazed over, looking gray and dead, as if she were blind. “Now to get better acquainted, dear husband of mine.”
She stuck out her hand.
He popped the RuBy, catching a slight odor of cinnamon, then carefully held her hand. “Okay.”
“I’m Dorie,” she said. “Dorie Senall.”
Seventeen
Heading south, we left the Flatlands behind, Forno’s flier cruising low over rocky, sandy terrain that soon gave way to the evergreen forest surrounding Kimson on all sides. Patches of white where the snow had not yet melted mixed in with the green, creating a nice little patchwork quilt.
Forno stayed to the west of Kimson’s hills, continuing southwest toward the Aryellian Mountains and its ski resorts. I didn’t actually know any of the names of the resorts, or even the names of the mountain ranges.
“We going skiing?” I asked. “Here I am without a warm jacket, and I hear the rental equipment isn’t cheap.”
Forno gave me a look that told me I should shut up, so I did. For now.
He looked out his window as he banked the flier to the left, a little east. He aimed for a natural pass between two mountain ranges, gaining altitude. My command of Aryellian geography included Kimson’s hills and the nearby spaceport. And of course, now, the Flatlands. I had no idea what awaited beyond the mountains.
I kept thinking about the key. The key Forno knew about. The Helk didn’t know what it was, but he knew someone had been looking for it. Someone had thought Kristen had it. Forno had gone looking. Jennifer Lisle had gone looking. Had she gone looking for the key, or for Kristen and Cara, two suspects high on her list? Someone else had arrived before all of them, killed Kristen, and left the room in a shambles. Koch, maybe. If Koch, he hadn’t found the key. If someone else, the key—whatever it was—could have been found.
Nothing new on the code card. It might as well have been some antique music player for all the good it was doing me now. I didn’t think telling Forno about the NIO’s silent treatment was a good idea. Not yet. But I was oddly comforted knowing that no other NIO alerts had appeared on the code card since before Forno took me out to the Flatlands.
Forno also knew about things that cluttered my brain so much that I couldn’t even begin to put two and two together. One and one for that matter. The Science Consortium. Director James. Plenko.
The flier shot through the pass. Seemingly, no one in Aryellian government minded air traffic buzzing around wherever it pleased. I grabbed a quick peek at Forno and he looked tense, his knuckles white as he gripped the controls. A few beads of sweat trickled down his leathery face.
“You okay?” I asked.
Forno nodded, but kept his eyes front and center.
“Expecting anything”—I searched for the right words, but couldn’t find them—“interesting?”
“Look,” he said, the loudness of the single word in the cabin of the flier making me jump slightly. Now he looked at me, held my gaze for a couple of seconds before turning away. “I’ve only been out here once before. Things can get a bit … touchy.”
“Touchy? What does that mean? And where’s here?” With the mountains behind us, the land had flattened out again. We hadn’t passed any foothills. The mountains had just stopped, and a grassy plain stretched as far as the eye could see. “And why are you taking me
out here? I believe all you told me in the Flatlands—at least everything I can comprehend—so come clean and tell me.”
Forno’s massive arm nearly hit me as he pointed out the right side of the front window.
“See it?” he asked.
“What?”
“Over there. Look.”
I was looking, but hadn’t figured out what I was looking at. In the distance, I saw a field of patchy brown that seemed to waver and undulate, as if alive.
The flier closed in on those brown spots, the movement almost hypnotic, and I started to tell him he’d stumped me when Forno’s little ship bumped hard, as if we’d hit something, and a bright light shone through the window.
Startled, I pulled back from the window. “What the—”
“Hang on,” Forno said. “This’ll get a little rough.”
Bright white light, followed by blues and oranges, flashed through the flier, forcing me to look away from the front window. The cabin lurched sideways toward my side, then up, like a scream elevator at a virtual fun park. I grunted and nearly flipped over the back of my chair. Nowhere to go, however, with that small utility space back there, but the sudden movement made my stomach queasy and my head spin. The flier dropped suddenly and I exhaled as if I’d been hit in the stomach. The light outside turned a nearly translucent gray, with flecks of white shooting through it like lightning.
The flier bumped along, slew to the right, and Forno struggled to keep us steady. Bronze lines like old-fashioned telephone wires appeared in front of us, and I ducked instinctively. We passed through as if nothing had been there.
“Forno!” I yelled. “What is this?” Another thing he forgot to mention to me, of course.
The Helk concentrated on the window in front of him and kept quiet. If he’d been expecting this, I could understand his earlier tension. The buffeting from side to side, as well as up and down, became unbearable, and I held my head in my hands. The next wild swing, to the left this time, threw me against the door about the same time a high-pitched whine assailed us. I wondered if the flier had malfunctioned and the engine had gone out, but just as quickly as the noise had sounded, it stopped.
The Ultra Thin Man Page 15
