“Aww, did you miss me? Come here,” she said as the creature scampered happily into her arms. She cradled it affectionately, and realized she was growing quite attached to it. “Isn’t he a cutie?” she said to Valerian, holding him out to her partner.
Valerian patted the creature’s head absently, but his face was hard. “Somebody’s holding out on us,” he said bluntly.
Laureline’s own heart sank, and even the happy snuffling of the converter underneath her chin couldn’t move her. “I agree. Setting off like that without the faintest idea of who we’re fighting is suicidal.”
“Of course it is, but I don’t mean that. I meant planet Mül,” Valerian said. “You remember that dream I told you about? The images I was fed?”
She nodded, stroking the cooing converter, wondering where Valerian was going with this. “The planet was inhabited,” her partner continued. “There were creatures on it. I saw their houses and children. And there was a young woman calling to me for help.”
Laureline stopped petting the converter, bridling slightly. “Really?” she scoffed. “And you call that a bad dream? Knowing you, it’s more like a dream come true.” She widened her eyes and pitched her voice higher as she said in an exaggerated voice, “Oh, Major Valerian! Help! Save me!”
She was startled when he said with uncharacteristic sharpness, “Knock it off, Laureline—this woman had a Mül converter with her.”
Laureline became serious. Scratching the converter under the chin, she asked, “Like this fellow?”
“Yes, almost exactly like him. And this morning I ran into two of the planet’s inhabitants in the flesh!”
She stared at him. “You mean—at Big Market?”
Valerian nodded. “We were sent to retrieve the stolen converter from Igon Siruss, but they were there trying to get it from him too. Actually, I suspect they paid him to steal it from us.”
Laureline peered at the small creature she cuddled. “Whoa,” she said to him. “Sounds like everybody is after you!”
The converter chirped.
“That may be. But what I want to know is, why do we need him for this mission?”
Laureline grinned. “Let’s find out,” she said. “Come on. Let’s gear up.”
They approached Commander Filitt’s quarters to find two K-TRONs standing on either side of the door. “Agents Valerian and Laureline. We’re here to guard the commander,” Valerian informed them. He wondered if this was going to be a problem, but somewhat to his surprise they stepped aside and permitted the team entrance.
Filitt was adjusting the last of his ceremonial regalia and eyed their battledress as they stepped inside.
“Wow!” the commander said sardonically. “You two look most impressive. I can see you’re taking my protection very seriously.”
Laureline held up the box containing the converter. Its small face was pressed to one of the slats in the front. He stuck his narrow muzzle out and his nose twitched as he sniffed.
“His protection, actually,” she corrected. “He’s one of a kind. Extremely precious.”
“Precisely” Valerian said, then asked the commander, “Given that, are you sure there’s any purpose taking him along with us on such a dangerous mission?”
Filitt adjusted his jacket as he spoke, eyeing himself critically in the mirror. “The Mül converter is capable of producing any conceivable product in record time. It will come in very handy if we have to negotiate.”
Satisfied with the jacket, he reached for the large traditional belt that would encircle his waist. In the center was a circular ornamentation that was hollow inside. It was common military issue to have such a centrally located, small pack. Over the years, though, it had become regalia rather than a practical accoutrement, and its contents were reflective of rank. The commander’s, Valerian noted, was currently empty, and he had a sneaking suspicion what Filitt wanted to put inside.
As the commander turned, fastening the belt, Valerian said, “With the army of K-TRONs you’ve got, I’m surprised negotiating is on your agenda, Commander. They’re not really trained for that, seeing as they can’t talk.”
That appeared to irritate Filitt. He replied tersely, “You take care of my security, Major. I’ll take care of the negotiations.”
He went to Laureline and reached out toward the container she carried. Opening the door, intending to grab the small animal, he stuck his hand inside.
The converter promptly bit him. Valerian thought that the creature exhibited excellent judgment, but somehow managed not to voice the sentiment.
“For your personal security, sir,” he said instead as Filitt snatched back his hand and inspected his finger, “how about you leave the animal to Agent Laureline for safekeeping?”
Filitt stared at him, his eyes narrowed. “You mean wear the belt with nothing in it? That’s against protocol, Major. I am the highest ranking officer on this station!”
“And this animal, as far as we know, is the last specimen of its species. The whole universe is after it. And by carrying it, you automatically become a target,” Valerian pointed out.
Laureline added wryly, “That’s why Major Valerian would rather I carried it.”
The commander hesitated. He glanced again at the converter, who was displaying its admirable discernment by growling and baring its small teeth.
“All right,” Filitt said at last, “but do not leave my sight, Agent Laureline.”
Laureline beckoned to the converter in the carrying case. It hopped into her arms, purring, and Filitt looked even more irritated. She opened the front of her own belt and slipped the converter inside.
The door opened to reveal General Okto-Bar. He, too, was formally dressed.
“Your guests are waiting, sir,” Okto-Bar said to Filitt.
“All right,” said Filitt, with one final look at Laureline’s belt. “Let’s make it fast.”
“Stay on backup,” Valerian ordered Laureline.
“Yes, sir,” she replied.
The two were twenty feet behind Commander Filitt as he entered, but on Valerian’s command, Laureline dropped back into the corridor while the major continued to follow the commander into the ceremonial hall. A crowd of extraterrestrial dignitaries who comprised the membership of the station’s Security Council stepped forward to shake the commander’s hand as he entered. Filitt was the picture of calm military decorum as he looked each of them in the eye—or what passed for it— and firmly shook whatever appendage was proffered.
As the commander made his way to the podium, Valerian and Okto-Bar followed. Gravely, not a hair out of place, Filitt lightly jogged up the steps and stepped behind the podium, taking a moment to look out at the sea of alien faces turned up to him. Okto-Bar stood off to the side, while Valerian took up a position beside and slightly behind the man he was guarding. He busied himself with scanning the crowd, alert to anything that might pose a potential threat. His HUD also had two transparent screens constantly feeding him information. He might not like the commander much, but he was not about to let the man die on his watch.
“Where’s Agent Laureline?” Filitt asked in a soft voice.
“She’s down the hall at the far corridor, sir,” Valerian reassured him quietly.
“Her orders were not to leave my sight,” the commander said. There was an edge to his words, though his voice was still pitched softly.
“Yes, sir, but she and I are your security, and I placed her where I thought best.”
“But—”
“Sir, the sooner you speak, the sooner we can get this over with,” Valerian reminded him. The look that his superior officer gave him could have melted steel, but the commander merely tightened his jaw and turned back to his audience.