“What’s going on?” asked Bubble, sounding worried.
“I guess it’s lunchtime,” Valerian replied.
Bubble’s voice was just a step below a sob. “Bussing tables! Every artiste’s worst nightmare! Never mention this to anybody, okay?”
“You should be thanking your lucky stars we’re not the main course!” Valerian hissed back. “Think of it as a role, not a job. You’re a down-on-your-luck girl trying to make the big time.”
Bubble sniffled. “Am I plucky?” she asked.
“Sure,” he said. “You can be plucky.”
They had moved down far enough so that Valerian could glimpse the diners. Well… the diner. At the far end of the room, on a massive throne that appeared to have been hewed from a single chunk of gray stone and then adorned with intricate carvings in gold leaf, slumped a Boulan-Bathor wearing a golden crown. His Majesty nibbled every dish presented to him. Behind him was a circular window that opened onto an incongruously beautiful space-scape, and beside him towered a pair of statues.
Valerian identified him as the species emperor, Boulan III. His eyes were large and glowing red, and scarlet markings had been painted or tattooed all over his body. It was both mesmerizing and horrible to watch that mouth drop open and food disappear into the yawning gullet. What he didn’t eat off the plate, which usually wasn’t much, the server emptied into a grate beside the throne.
Next to him, his wife, a strange crown of her own topped with jutting red feathers, watched keenly for the tiniest flicker of satisfaction on her husband’s face.
Valerian felt Bubble trembling around him as they drew closer. “It’s okay,” he reassured her. “He’ll eat the food, then we go right back to the kitchen. You got this.”
Nonetheless, even he felt uneasy as The Creation stood before the bored Boulan III while the emperor reached out one giant hand, grabbed the head of some unfortunate creature from an offered plate, brought it to his mouth and devoured it in two bloody chomps.
“I’m going to be sick!” Bubble whispered.
“No, no,” Valerian pleaded desperately, “you’re going to wait and be sick later! Just follow the line.”
The Creation merged with the long line headed back to the kitchen with their empty plates. The food kept coming, and as he looked about, Valerian’s heart surged in his chest.
Laureline! She’s alive! And, apparently, enlisted as a serving girl.
They had dressed her in a long, trailing white dress, which was really quite pretty, and plopped an enormous white hat on her head, which was not. The hat was, essentially, nothing more than a large brim, and her blonde hair poked out of a hole in the center. Boulan-Bathor fashion was never going to set the galaxy on fire.
In her arms Laureline bore a large platter of fruits of all shapes, colors and sizes, which were likely intended as a light dessert after a heavy meal, given her position as the last one in line. It was the only dish of all that Valerian had glimpsed that looked even remotely appetizing.
Valerian suddenly felt a little light-headed with relief. “There she is!” he said to Bubble.
“Wow,” approved Bubble. “You’re right, she’s a ten.”
“You already knew what she looked like.” Valerian was still bothered that Bubble had assumed Laureline’s appearance earlier.
“Yes, but there’s a lot more to being a ten than appearances,” Bubble said.
The glamopod confounded Valerian. She was so innocent and, well, ditzy sometimes, and so strangely wise at others. And of course she was right. He thought about what he most loved about Laureline, and to his surprise it wasn’t her lithe, fit body or gorgeous features. It was her. And that was why Bubble hadn’t been able to tempt him.
He was going to get them both out of here. And, hopefully, she was going to say yes to his proposal.
Laureline’s line advanced inexorably towards the emperor, whose wife was bouncing a little in her seat as the human girl approached.
Valerian frowned slightly. “Something’s wrong,” he said as he watched the empress, whose yellow, froggy eyes were fastened on Laureline. The emperor followed her gaze and now he, too, sat up, abruptly interested in the girl in white carrying the platter of fruit.
He’d dealt with humans before. Why so interested in Laureline? What could be special about her to a Boulan-Bathor? Frantically Valerian tried to recall everything he knew about the species and Boulan III in particular. He’d grown up traveling. He loved food—unique, different, perfect food…
“How about I do a little dance to create a diversion?” Bubble offered.
“No, thanks,” Valerian said quickly.
Laureline now stood before the salivating emperor. His wife applauded ecstatically. Boulan III plucked a huge slice of juicy fruit from Laureline’s platter. But instead of popping it into his mouth, he squeezed it over the top of her head that protruded from the hat.
Comprehension slammed into Valerian.
She’s not carrying the dessert. She is the dessert—and the hat’s a plate!
The emperor reached for a sharp set of tongs. An enormous drop of saliva splattered on the floor.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Just as Valerian drew breath to shout out a warning, Laureline herself realized what was going on. She hurled the platter at the emperor and bolted, but was caught by two of the guards. Shrieking and kicking, she tried to struggle free, but they were too strong and too big. The emperor grunted his approval as his wayward dessert was returned to him.
“I think we should go!” Bubble squeaked.
“I think you should let me handle this!” Valerian shot back.
“Okay!” Bubble readily agreed.
“Valerian!” Laureline cried out, still twisting in the grip of the two guards.
Even in the direness of the moment, Valerian’s breath caught and his heart swelled. Here she was, facing certain death, and Laureline still had faith that somehow, some way, Valerian would find her.
And, dammit, he had.
“I’m here, Laureline!” he shouted past the lump in his throat. “It’s me, Valerian!”
Bubble had indeed given all motor control to Valerian now. He broke into a run and headed for the gap between two guards. The first guard took a swing at Valerian with a massive sword. Valerian dodged the sweeping strike, ducked in, and seized the second guard’s sword. Before the stunned guards could react, he had stabbed the second one with his own weapon, whirled, and brought the bloodied blade sweeping across the vastness of the first guard’s belly. Both of them fell, and Laureline was free.
Valerian was hoping to draw the emperor’s attention away from his dessert, and he succeeded. The emperor’s red eyes were firmly on him now. Good, Valerian thought. Watch this.
Thanks to Bubble’s talent, Valerian had the form and strength of a Boulan-Bathor, but his own speed and agility. The result was, he was sure, going to go down in the species’ history. He bellowed with the voice of one of their own as he raced toward more oncoming guards, sword flashing as it lopped off arms, severed heads from their long necks, and pierced bulging bellies. The fact that the guards didn’t appear to have much in the way of armor—well, much in the way of any kind of clothing, really—made it that much easier. They did know how to use their weapons, but he seemed to be quick enough to dodge them without any harm.
More guards surged into Valerian’s path, trying to protect their emperor. Valerian cut and ducked and pressed on, leaping over the bodies that were starting to pile up. The empress was quailing off to the side, but the emperor was bellowing and pointing, his red eyes glaring at Valerian.