The Most Bred and the Tarhiji (Kelly had discovered that meant the mind-blind bulk of the population) servants -- sat enthralled. Kelly stifled a yawn. One servant let out a small hiccup of sound, an aborted cheer. He was quickly shushed, but then Sekal leapt to his feet and lifted his wineglass to Blaise.
"It is wonderful! It is... brilliant, it is... it is..."
"But what does it mean?"
It was a soft and languid voice, and it belonged to an extremely elderly, extremely precious nobleman by the name of Bat'tam. From the moment of their arrival he had been a constant visitor at their suite, but the attraction wasn't Blaise. In fact, this was the first time Bat'tam had ever addressed a word to the young man. No, Bat'tam came for Kelly -- or rather to lust after the flesh that Kelly currently inhabited. It made Kelly crazy
Blaise stared down into Bat'tam's sagging, wrinkled face. "What does it mean?" the young man repeated softly. His purple black eyes swept the dinner table, and the now-silent nobles. "It means I shall make you the rulers of Vayawand... and the conquerors of Takis." And then he began to sing in a rich baritone.
The sound drowned out Bat'tam's plaintive query of "How?"
"Arise, ye prisoners of Vayawand! Arise, ye wretched of Takis, for justice thunders condemnation, a better world's in birth. No more tradition's chains shall bind us, arise, ye slaves; no more in thrall! Takis shall rise on new foundations, we have been naught, we shall be all!"
The tune was stirring, the words simple. Several of the nobles, and a few of the Tarhiji servants, tried it out on the chorus. Durg slipped down the table refilling wineglasses. Bat'tam lifted his and then locked eyes with the Morakh.
"I hope your master can fight as well as he can talk," Bat'tam said.
Durg blinked slowly several times, then finally said, "He doesn't need to. This battle's already won."
Chapter Nine
A small avalanche of white gypsum sand heralded Mark's return.
"No sign of the army." He slapped energetically at his pants legs, and sand hopped like terrified fleas from the material.
"What a relief," Jay said. "I was sure worried that a bunch of jeeps and tanks and helicopters were gonna come sneaking up on us."
Mark's face crumpled.
"POPINJAY," boomed Turtle through the speakers set into his shell. "IF YOU'RE GOING TO BE AN ASSHOLE, WHY DON'T YOU JUST CLIMB BACK IN THAT RENTAL CAR AND LEAVE?"
"Because I want to see the spaceship. And don't call me Popinjay, damn it."
"They're metal. They're not beautiful like our ships," Tach murmured, speaking almost more to herself than her companions.
Mark knelt and began rooting through the luggage. There wasn't much. While Jay had gone to rent a car Mark and Tach had bought a few changes of clothing in Alamogordo, New Mexico. Tach had also added a deck of cards and a traveling Scrabble set to her meager belongings. Mark and Tommy were so excited about this journey that Tach hadn't had the heart to tell them how stone-cold boring space travel could be.
The snap of the latches was loud in the desert darkness. Flicking on a pocket flashlight, the tall ace once again surveyed his stash of powders.
"They haven't changed since the last time you checked -- four hours ago," Jay said.
Mark rocked back to squat on his heels. "I know. I just keep wishing I could have made more. I've got four of everybody. That's it."
"Mark, we have pharmaceuticals on my planet," Tach reminded him.
"Yeah, but it'll take time to get the proper chemical equivalents, and if things get hot, we may not have it." He shook his head and shut the case.
"Well, let's just hope the Network baggage handlers didn't train at Tomlin International," Jay said. "Otherwise your dope is history."
Mark grinned. "I think this qualifies as carryon."
Tach was listening with perhaps half an ear to the humans' conversation. Mostly she scanned the explosion of light that was the Milky Way. A star dislodged itself from its fellows and began a slow arcing fall toward Earth.
"There, Mr. Ackroyd, there's your spaceship."
Jay frowned up the line of her arm. "Uh-uh, shooting star."
"Spaceship."
The star continued its descent. Jay gnawed at his lower lip. "Okay, airplane then."
"JESUS, ACKROYD," Turtle said. "YOU SOUND LIKE A UFO DEBUNKER. IF YOU DON'T BELIEVE THERE'S GOING TO BE A SPACESHIP, WHY ARE WE ALL STANDING AROUND FREEZING OUR BUTTS IN THE DESERT?"
"I don't know about you. Me, I'm getting two hundred bucks a day."
Lifting her wrist, Tach checked the sweep hand on her watch. No, it wasn't an illusion; the pilot of the Network vessel was descending at terrifying speed. Then suddenly Turtle and Popinjay's bickering was drowned under the crash of an enormous sonic boom.
"Holy shit," Jay breathed, and they all followed his gaze. "Twenty billion dollars spent on Star Wars, and they can't even detect that."
A ship was slipping down a wash of moonlight. The shape was triangular, the regularity broken by a light-filled dome that topped the vessel -- a moonstone mounted in a silver setting. After the clarion announcement of its arrival, its landing was virtually soundless, but some braking force was in operation, for whirling dust devils of white gypsum sand went coiling and twining toward the ship like beckoning fingers. Gypsum flakes chattered hysterically against Turtle's metal sides, and Jay, Tach, and Mark covered their eyes and gave their backs to the stinging sandstorm.
The ship settled, three great landing pylons sinking with a crunch into the sand. It was the first sound directly attributable to the arrival of the alien vessel, and Tachyon noticed that even the desert night birds remained undisturbed. Their fitful cheeping still pierced the darkness. Suddenly a large spot sprang to blinding life and pinned the foursome like bugs on a needle of light.
"Are you sure Blaise is headed for Takis?" asked Jay softly.
"It seems the most likely guess," Tach answered.
"I'd hate to be climbing aboard that thing for a guess."
"THEN I GUESS ITS A GOOD THING YOU'RE NOT COMING," Turtle boomed through his speakers.
Tach was eyeballing the ship, trying to estimate its interior capacity. The answers she was coming up with weren't very encouraging. The sleek little flying pie wedge was fast, but it was small. Obviously only a scout ship. Turtle seemed to suddenly bulk much larger beside her.
A ramp extruded tonguelike from the side of the ship, the motion accompanied by a soft humming. It dropped with a soft thud onto the sand, and they heard the sound of boot heels rapping metallically in the night. The bird song cut off abruptly. At her side Tach heard Mark draw in a sharp breath and hold it.
They're about to see an alien, she thought. Naturally they're frightened.
The Network contact reached the base of the ramp. It was still in the shadow of the ship, so Tachyon couldn't determine the species. It stepped forward, and moonlight lit the tips of the white blond hair, seemed to etch the tipped-up gray eyes with kohl. It smiled down at her.
Darkness crashed over Tachyon like a wave.
Chapter Ten
"Shit, what the fuck's wrong now?" were the dulcet words Tachyon heard when she regained consciousness.
Mark was patting first her hands, then her cheek, then going back to her hands. Her head was propped in Jay's lap. She knew because the smell of cheap aftershave was overwhelming.
"I always have this devastating effect on women," drawled a new, yet horribly familiar voice.
The accent was light, lilting, rather like a Rumanian crossed with a Swede. Tachyon talked the same way -- when she remembered to affect the accent. Only one other race would speak English with that particular cadence. Tach opened one eye, risked another glance. No, nothing had changed. It was still a Takisian. It was still her wicked cousin Zabb.