Valerian veered sharply to the right, hiding behind a jutting piece of black rock and watched, sickened, as the fisherman—and Laureline—were admitted inside and the gate closed with a terrible finality.
His beloved was trapped inside the Boulan-Bathor palace. And there was nothing he could do.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Okto-Bar should not have grieved the death of the unusual alien as much as he did, but there it was. Something inside him was oddly sad, even though the emotion went against all rational thought. How could one mourn the death of a being one didn’t even know—especially from a race that had shown itself to be aggressive?
Help us, it had begged.
And, strangely, Okto-Bar wanted to help. He would begin with finding out as much as he could about the delicate and beautiful alien, whose people, as Agent Laureline had pointed out, had managed to attack a roomful of beings without harming a single one of them.
Peculiar enemies. He sighed and asked Neza, “Did you run a DNA search?”
“Yes,” replied the sergeant, “but it didn’t match any of the millions of species in our database.”
“How is that possible?” Okto-Bar couldn’t believe it.
“There are a couple of possibilities,” Neza explained. “Either he belonged to a completely unknown species or…” The soldier didn’t finish.
“Or?” prompted Okto-Bar.
“Or his species was deliberately deleted from the database.”
They stared at one another. It wasn’t Neza’s place to volunteer theories to his superior officer without being requested to do so, and Okto-Bar wasn’t ready to give voice to any of the increasingly strange ones knocking about in his head. He returned to his chair, slumping into it, trying and largely failing to wrestle the known facts into something that didn’t sound ludicrous. He stared at the myriad colored, flashing screens but didn’t really see them.
Who were these peculiar aliens who had kidnapped Commander Filitt? Why was there no record of them?
Sergeant Neza spoke up, interrupting his brooding. “General, the major has resurfaced! On the edge of the red zone.”
Okto-Bar was on his feet at once. “Excellent. Which district is he in?”
Color crept into the sergeant’s cheeks as he replied, “Ah… that would be Paradise Alley, sir.”
Paradise Alley? “What the hell is he doing there?” Okto-Bar demanded.
The sergeant’s blush deepened. “I have no idea, sir.”
“Well,” the general said in a gruffer voice than normal to cover his surprise, “put a call out to all units in the sector.”
Every night was a busy night in Paradise Alley for law enforcement. Tonight, it seemed, would be no different. A police officer glanced down at his forearm at a screen fastened around his wrist.
A picture of a young man with dark hair appeared on the screen. The officer nodded; someone was speaking in his ear. “Copy that,” he said quietly and started to look around—only to feel a gun pressed to his temple by the self-same young man whose picture adorned his wrist.
“May I help you?” the officer said tightly.
“Yes, you sure can,” Valerian said. “Move. Now! Slide your gun into my holster.”
The officer did as he was told. “Thanks,” said Valerian. “Now, hold still.”
Valerian fired a streak of blue light into the officer’s neck. The officer was frozen where he stood, turned into an apparent statue. He wouldn’t be going anywhere, not unless someone came along to reverse the immobilizer within the next three hours. It would wear off on its own after that.
Valerian pressed a button on his gun. A small shield hummed over it, bending the light rays so the gun became invisible for all intents and purposes. He tucked it in the back of his pants and steeled himself for the ordeal that was about to unfold.
Squaring his shoulders, he stepped out into the main street, into the throng of a staggering variety of races displaying their charms beneath garish, brightly colored lights in a place where it was always night.
“Hey, handsome. Want to walk on the wild side?” The speaker’s voice was deep and husky, but feminine, and the fur on her face was very light and looked soft. But the teeth she bared were sharp, and Valerian stammered a polite, “Uh, no thank you.”
Backing away from her, he collided with a pair of twins with long legs, long blond hair, and long white dresses. “Hello there,” they said in perfect unison. “Two-for-one deal. Tonight only.”
A scantily clad girl in a swing soared over Valerian, smiling sweetly and providing him a chance to break away from the unnaturally gorgeous twins. She looked perfectly human until the light caught the gossamer wings attached to her shoulders on the second pass. She waved cheerfully and inquired, “Want a ride?”
A buxom woman clad in pointed shoes, white stockings, garters, a full but very short skirt, and a tightly cinched bodice waved a handkerchief and smiled at him. Her round face was heavily powdered and her hair— which might or might not have been a wig—seemed to stretch two feet upwards. She called out in archaic French, “Par ici, mon chéri!”
Valerian covered his eyes with his hand. “No, thanks!”
Another pretty creature moved to block his path. She had a firm, taut body covered with beautiful, iridescent blue and green feathers. Her fingers ended in sharp claws, but she was delicate and playful as she cupped his chin in her hands and spread her tail feathers like a peacock. “Come fly with me!” she whispered.
“Sorry,” apologized Valerian, “I’m allergic to feathers.”
He backed away from her, looking around for an escape. His eyes fell on a sign: “All U Like. Humans Only.”
“Get out of here, pervert!” came a male voice. “You’ve made the right choice, soldier! Jolly will see to it that you spend time with only the finest company Paradise Alley has to offer.”
Valerian turned to behold a man, presumably Jolly, who was undeniably human, but also undeniably ridiculous-looking. He had military-issue boots and gray camouflage pants. His jacket, too, looked like it was of a historical military design. And his hat looked like it could have once adorned someone from the era called the Old West. But the coat was an astonishing rainbow of colors from its blue sleeves to teal stripes to red epaulettes, and it covered a black and yellow shirt. Dark glasses, a gun belt loaded with bullets, and a close-trimmed goatee completed the bizarre ensemble.
The pimp grinned, revealing even white teeth as he slipped his arm around Valerian’s shoulder in a fraternal manner, casually but deliberately propelling the agent into his establishment.
“I’m telling ya, this club is the best you’ll find in the whole damn space station!” He clapped Valerian on the shoulder. “Stay right there. I’ll be with you in a second.”
But now that he had found the establishment he’d been looking for, Valerian was anxious to get what he was after. “I’m looking for something a bit special—”
Jolly held up his arms in an expansive gesture. “No matter what you want, I got it! Trust me. Come on in!”
Valerian hesitated. “I’m, uh… not entirely sure about that.”
I cannot believe I’m here. Laureline will kill me if she ever finds out. She certainly won’t accept a marriage proposal.
But it was for her that Valerian had sought out this place. If she ever did find out, he hoped she’d allow him the chance to explain that before she knocked him on his ass.
“So!” Jolly exclaimed. “What are you looking for? Tell me.”
“A glamopod,” Valerian replied.