“Let them in.”
Okto-Bar turned as the three shuffled in obsequiously.
He eyed them each in turn, sternly.
“Our humble respects, General,” Blue began.
“May you be healthy—”
“—and prosperous,” Yellow finished, and gave Okto-Bar what passed among his species for a smile.
“Shoot,” said the general, brusquely. He folded his arms.
They spoke, and the more they said, the grayer Okto-Bar’s face grew. When they were done, he had a knot of cold fury in his stomach. To Neza, who also looked stunned and slightly sick, he said, “Follow me.”
General Okto-Bar marched into the interrogation room with four of his best people at his heels. Trundling along behind them, as fast as their short legs would carry them, came the three Doghan Daguis. The guards who had been standing at the door stood at attention, looking confused, a little scared, and as if they wished they were anywhere but here.
“Sir, we—” one of them began.
“Open that door, Lieutenant,” Okto-Bar said in a chillingly soft voice, “or you’ll be very sorry you didn’t.”
She did.
Okto-Bar truly hoped that the information purchased from the Doghan Daguis had been wrong. But, sickeningly, it wasn’t.
The slender, pale alien was tied to the chair. He had obviously been beaten, and when that hadn’t produced the desired results, well—the general suspected that the dozen or so tubes that perforated his body were not supplying anything wholesome. The three small aliens who had led him here were now peering cautiously in the door.
Okto-Bar whirled on the poor creature’s tormentor and demanded, simmering with anger, “Captain! What’s going on here?”
The captain stared at him, obviously panic-stricken. His eyes flitted about as if searching for an escape route and his voice quivered as he replied. “I report directly to the Commander Arun Filitt! I don’t have to—”
“I am General Okto-Bar!” he roared, stepping in to close the distance between him and the captain. He had lost whatever shred had remained of his patience. Patience had no place in the face of torture. “In the commander’s absence, I am in command on Alpha Station. Sergeant Neza—arrest these men! And release that poor fellow immediately.”
Sergeant Neza and another soldier eagerly hastened to obey the general’s order. The Doghan Daguis lingered at the door. They looked like they were lapping this up.
The pale alien had been liberated from his bonds, and two of the men were removing the drips. His head lolled back and his thin chest heaved. Okto-Bar stood beside him and said, his voice gentle yet still filled with righteous anger, “I deeply apologize for your mistreatment. We’re going to take you to our jail now, because your people attacked us, but I promise, our doctors will take care of you. You won’t be harmed anymore.”
Even as he spoke, Okto-Bar wondered if the creature would survive long enough to be treated. What had been done to him…
The being opened impossibly blue eyes and smiled feebly at the general. With an effort, he reached up a hand and grasped Okto-Bar’s.
“Help us…” he pleaded.
It was a curious request from someone whose species had attacked the station, but Okto-Bar said, “If you want me to help you, tell me all you know and, first of all, why you’re attacking us.”
Faintly, the battered prisoner replied, “Because… you have… what we need.”
He closed his eyes. For a moment, Okto-Bar thought he was gone. Then, unexpectedly, the wounded being stretched his arms out wide and arched his back, as if he were trying to embrace the whole universe.
A blue wave seemed to surge from his body, pulsing as it rippled across the room, through the room and everyone in it, while they stood, eyes wide and mouths open in wonder.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Laureline emerged from the deactivated sulfate pipe in Level 630 East, leading with her gun, to find herself in a gully alongside a precipice. She approached the edge quickly but carefully and peered down into a bottomless blackness intermittently illuminated by a few skittering, phosphorescent butterflies lighting up the stretch of wall. They were beautiful and magical-looking, their fluttering wings painted in softly glowing shades of magenta, violet, and midnight blue.
“Valerian?” Laureline called. Her voice echoed and suddenly she wondered if yelling had been the smartest thing to do. But if he could answer her…
She heard only the dying echo of her own voice, and then silence in response.
This was the right place, she was sure of it. She hadn’t noticed the butterflies specifically, but she’d seen Valerian’s form and the wreckage of the Sky Jet lit up by their luminescence. And she’d had the converter reproduce enough diamonds to be sure that the map the Doghan Daguis had provided her was accurate. Valerian had been in pretty bad shape in her vision. She could only hope he would hang on until she could reach him.
She fished in her kit until she found a slender but strong line of cable attached to a piton. With a firm shove, Laureline autoset the piton into the rock, tugged to make sure it was secure, then carefully rappelled down the black, nearly vertical rock face. She kept going until her feet touched a ledge that jutted out about ten feet from the wall. With a flick of her wrist, the line detached, and she quickly wound it up and returned it to her kit. The stone beneath her feet was slick, and she moved carefully along the ledge in search of her partner. Now and then a butterfly would waft air against her cheek, a feather-light little kiss; it was a strange pleasantness in this moment of fear and worry.
The ledge curved and then deepened into a cave. Laureline shone a light ahead, gasped. She had found the Sky Jet—at least, what was left of it. She pressed her lips together in a grim line, chasing away the fear that would weaken her, and called out again. “Valerian?”
No answer. She hastened to the wreckage as swiftly as she dared. On the far side, she found him.
Valerian was sprawled on the ground, his suit torn and bloody. Laureline ran to him, dropping to her knees beside him.
“Valerian! I’m here!” She placed her gun on the ground and frantically searched in her kit. She pulled out a compact first aid system, eased her hand around the back of his head, and slipped it into his mouth. Its red light turned blue, as a mini cartridge pumped in the prescribed medication.
“Wake up, Valerian… please!”
Nothing. The seconds ticked by. Had she come too late? The kit was good, but—
His eyes flew open and he sat up, coughing and spitting. Relief washed through her, so powerful it made her weak. Her face hurt, and she realized it was because she couldn’t stop smiling. She touched his cheek and impulsively leaned in, pressed her lips to his, and kissed him hard.
He sat there for a second, utterly taken by surprise, then returned the kiss. When she pulled back, though, he stared at her in confusion.
“Laureline! What are you doing here?”
“I came to get you,” she said. “You totaled your Sky Jet. Remember?” She jerked her head in the direction of the wreckage.
Valerian blinked, still slightly dazed. “Yeah… I… I lost it in a curve.”
“You nearly died, you mean,” Laureline replied, unable to smother her grin. She couldn’t take her hands or her eyes off him, and she didn’t want to. This had hit her too hard. “It’s lucky I found you!”
Memory seemed to be returning to him in fits and spurts. “What about the commander?” Valerian asked. “Do we know where he is?”