Second Contact (Okal Rel Saga #1)

Chapter 6.6 - The Visitor Probe

Ann found Beauty sitting on the bed when she returned.

"I liked your yellow clothes better," he said, nodding at her shift.

"Thanks," said Ann, handing him the clean clothes. "My parents used to complain I liked to wear things that looked sprayed on."

"You could wear a dancer's sheath if you wanted," he told her. "Lots of people can't pull it off, even if they work for it."

"I'm game," she said, watching him pull the tunic over his head. "What's a dancer's sheath?"

"A costume for sword dancers." He stepped out of his leather pants.

"Sword dancers?" This time Ann kept her eyes above waist level. "With real swords?"

"Of course." He seemed uncertain whether to tuck in the tunic or not.

"Sounds unhealthy," said Ann, lending a hand.

The new clothes were nice, although he looked better naked. They stood a moment, staring at each other. Then he said, "You are not a Sevolite. You don't even have a sword."

"Ah, well, not on me right now," said Ann, mindful of Alicia's advice. "Listen, are you going to stay a while?" she changed the subject. "I'd like you to."

He went numb. "I must go back."

"Oh."

"I must ask H'Reth to release your people on Trinket Ring," he elaborated. "I mean, order H'Reth to do it."

"Whatever," said Ann. It was obvious he was pulling her leg about something, she just wasn't sure exactly what.

"You can call me Di Mon," he suggested, cajoling now. "If you want."

"Di Mon?" she echoed, wondering what was up.

"It's a use name. There have been a lot of Ditatt Monitums. Di Mon is a personal form." He dampened his lower lip and fidgeted, then rallied, tossing his hair back. "I let my lyka, Eva, call me Di Mon," he said with an attempt at hauteur, "so you could, too. Even if you are a commoner."

"Your lyka?" Ann repeated. An explanation, on stage, flagged the word as intractable Gelack.

Beauty shrugged. "Oh, she's just a courtesan."

That translated.

"Gee, thanks," said Ann.

"Have I said something wrong?" he asked.

"Starting where?"

He fell silent.

Ann rolled her eyes and shook off the peculiar feeling she was in a poorly acted synthdrama. "Let's go see Lurol," she decided.

She headed for the door. He did not follow.

Ann turned back, arms folded. "If you want to ship out, you have to pass a pre-flight psych exam and physical, and have all your options explained to you, like the visitor probe."

"The visitor probe?"

"We could explain things to each other all day!" she told him crossly. "Come on."

The corridors were unusually quiet. No doubt the anthropologists had asked people to stay clear.

Ann felt annoyed with herself for being short with Beauty and annoyed with him, too. How could he decide to leave as if nothing had happened between them? And what did he mean by talking like that about his courtesan, as if granting her parallel privileges was supposed to be flattering!

She was actually relieved when Alicia put in an appearance and asked if she should take over. Beauty looked relieved too, and sad, which seemed an odd combination. But Ann was fed up with him being an enigma.

"Courtesan," she muttered, as she watched him walk off beside Alicia. He never even turned for one last look.

Alone in her room again, Ann settled down to do some serious brooding over a snack. Maybe her counselors were right. Rire was enlightened enough to tolerate a wide range of sexual behavior, but did she really want to slot in on the lunatic fringe? She didn't have to go on acting out all over the place. She was really ready to grow up.

She decided to celebrate by checking to see if Beauty was still on board.

"Stage on!" she ordered, and located him in Lurol's lab, getting briefed on the visitor probe.

"It is not a device for controlling anyone," Lurol corrected. "It's for reviving pilots who succumb to post-flight coma."

"But if it can re-integrate consciousness," he said, meshing his fingers and then pulling them apart again with a strangely hopeful look. "Couldn't it rebuild brain patterns? Couldn't it impose new ones or ... or..."

"Yes?" Lurol prompted.

He went very pale all at once.

"Are you all right?" Lurol put a hand on his shoulder.

Beauty convulsed.

The wrenching feeling in Ann's own chest came as a shock. She leapt up and sprinted for the lab. When she burst onto the scene two minutes later, Beauty was sitting up with Lurol taking his blood pressure. Equipment was on standby and a couple of other medics hovered waiting to pounce if he acted up.

"Hi," said Ann, breathless.

Beauty raised his head. For an instant he was glad to see her. Then he looked as if she had sentenced him to execution just by showing up.

"I wanted to say good-bye," she told him, hurt by his reception.

He went pale again.

"Look, you beautiful dope," Ann said with force, "will you at least think of coming back? Just to visit? Hey, stop it!" Ann interrupted herself. "You're freaking me out."

His eyes brimmed with fatal distress while his face remained ludicrously elegant. "I should have ... before," he whispered, gazing up beyond Ann. "So sorry, Mira." He said it with the last breath he was able to draw, stumbled up, and pitched forward to the floor, in convulsions.

Ann's eyes opened so wide her eyeballs got cold.

Fortunately Lurol's staff were more useful.

"Milap!" cried Lurol. "Prep the probe!"

"We don't have his permission!" objected Milap.

"The arbiter will stop us if we do anything illegal," Lurol decided. "Come on!"

Milap shot Beauty up with tranquilizers. He reacted badly, tearing at the offended arm before the tranquilizers took effect. They forced him into position on the visitor probe slab, braced his head, and positioned saline droppers over his eyes. His limbs were chucked inside.

Lurol called out, "Close!"

The probe's outer cylinder closed over him, settled and locked. Organ telemetry and interior visuals filled the large stage at the center of Lurol's lab.