Melinda Snodgrass - Double solitaire

“I’m good from L. A. to New York. Light-years… I doubt it. The bug would never have made it.”

“First, it’s not a bug. It’s a sentient creature. So the idea of your leaving it floating in space does not comfort me. Second, I think you underestimate your power. I doubt it is impeded by the normal laws of the space-time continuum.” She cocked her head to the side and considered for a second. “On the other hand, I don’t wish to test the theory.” Tach walked to her bunk and sat down. If you are both rested enough, we must begin your instruction and training.”

“In what, and for what?” asked Jay. The set of his jaw was belligerent.

“Language, customs, most important, attitudes.”

Mark pushed Tachyon onto her back on the bunk. She let out a gasp, and the ace quickly retreated a couple of steps, holding out his hands placatingly. “Easy. How about a foot massage?”

“All right,” was the dubious reply. Mark seated himself and pulled her feet into his lap. Slipping off her shoes, he began to rub. Tach gave a tiny groan of pleasure.

“So lecture,” Jay ordered.

“Ideal, where to start?”

She chewed on her lower lip, but before she could launch in, the lights in the cabin dimmed twice, and they felt an odd prickling over their skin.

“Oh, Christ, what was that?” Jay asked, in a voice gone suddenly breathy.

Tach was as flummoxed as the detective. The phenomenon was repeated. Mark knitted his brows in a contemplative frown. “I think it’s, like, maybe the… doorbell?”

“Who the hell’d be visiting us?”

“We could, like, open the door and find out,” Mark suggested.

Jay hurried to the portal, touched the keypad, and it slid open to reveal an extremely tall, lovely woman. Well, not woman exactly. She was an upright biped, and she was a mammal as evidenced by the impressive pair of breasts curving the material of her shift, but she was eyeless, and what Tach had at first taken for hair she realized were twining sensory organs. She was also the whitest creature Tach had ever seen. Her clothing was simple in the extreme – a plain blue shift, sandals. Her only ornamentation was an elaborate leather belt both inlaid and embroidered with jewels and metal threads, supporting a gem-encrusted pouch that hung at her left side.

She smiled and said in halting English, “Wel… come to my… uh, ship. I am Nesfa.”

“Pleased to meet you. Jay Ackroyd.” The detective held out his hand, then shot Tach a pained and embarrassed look. Tach was not the least bit surprised when Nesfa unerringly took the ace’s hand.

“Oh, groovy, are you part of the Network?” Mark asked. “Hi, I’m Mark Meadows.”

“Pleased to face you… no, see you… no.”

“Meet you,” Mark corrected with a happy smile.

“I learn your… language only a little from my captain.”

“Zabb?” Tach suggested.

“Yes.” She “looked” back at Mark. “We are Network, but very… new.”

“You just joined?” Jay amplified.

“Yes. We Viand search for new… places… to live. We… buy ship.”

“But you don’t know how to operate her?” Tach asked.

“No,” Nesfa replied.

“Typical,” Tach said bitterly.

“I come only to say… hello. No to bother. Ship is… as yours.”

She smiled again, and it was so warm and pretty that the travelers were beginning to forget the lack of eyes. Of course they’d all had practice. Before its destruction they’d all drunk at the Crystal Palace and been served by the eyeless bartender, Sascha.

“Bye-bye,” she said, and left.

“Boy, we gotta get out more,” Jay gusted. “What a doll.” Mark and Tach exchanged glances and burst out laughing. “What? What is it?”

“What an ambassador you’d make,” Mark said.

“But only if the aliens are all women,” Tach added. Jay was continuing to stare at the closed door. “Jay, you can pursue your gonads’ imperative at a later time. We must resume.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Tach must have looked lost, because Mark prompted her. “You were gonna talk about the customs in the Houses.”

“Oh yes. Just quick background. There are seven great Houses. The Ilkazam, the Vayawand, the Alaa, the Ss’ang, the Tandeh, the Jeban, and the Rodaleh. Then fifteen or so modest Houses, and finally a few tiny holdings. About thirty total, though the numbers can fluctuate due to war or treaty.

“Once you pass through the walls of my family compound – or any compound, for that matter – you will be living between the covers of a flamboyant novel. While it is true that we rule the mind-blind – sometimes with a ferocity that’s appalling – we are also the primary consumers of the luxuries and services produced by the Tarhiji. We’re their primary source of entertainment too. Perhaps that’s one of the reasons we strut through life with the bombastic quality of performers in an Italian opera.” Tachyon frowned and considered the human’s nondescript face. “In order to succeed in Takisian society, it is essential that you possess йlan. In your case, Jay, it is unfortunate that you look so ordinary, but your smart mouth will offset that liability.”

“Gee, sorry, if I’d known, I’d have had a nose job.”

Tach shot back. “It would require an entire body sculpt.”

“Walked right into it,” groused Jay.

“Mark carries a similar burden, he’s not at all handsome, but his great height will make him unique – assuming they don’t view him as a freak and deformed.”

“This is kind of disturbing. Is your entire society this shallow?” asked Mark.

It stung, and a flush blossomed in her cheeks, but there was enough truth in the accusation and enough innate honesty in Tachyon to give her pause. She sighed. “Yes, and no. Yes, because your breeding is in your face and your form, and we do breed for beauty. No, because the Takisians can be very astute and see past mere appearances.” Tach stopped, considered. “But that’s an oversimplification too. You see, on Takis appearances are everything. A false appearance of power, of virtu, can make a man a king as easily as a true one.”

“That’s not astute, that’s gullible,” said Jay.

“No, cautious,” Tach corrected. “The man who struts and preens may be a bombastic buffoon, or he may be every bit as dangerous and powerful as he claims. You don’t attack until you’re certain. That’s why you must hide your powers, Jay, but at the same time flaunt them. Drop mysterious hints about the nature of those powers, leave the impression that they are awesome, terrifying, and probably mental in nature.”

“Trips may be able to pull that off. He can reveal a few of his friends and even suggest that there are a lot more waiting in the wings, but that’s going to do fuck-all for me. They’ll have my head open in a second, and then they’ll know I’m no mind-powered ace.”

“Are you listening to me?” snapped Tach. “They won’t risk that until they are certain of your powers, and your allies.”

“So far as I can tell, our only allies are sitting in this room.”

“As recent as five years ago my uncle Taj was still loyal to my line. There may be others.”

Jay continued to argue. “And just how will you prove that you are who you say you are?”

“Open my mind.”

“Great,” said Jay bitterly. “That’s really hiding the football.”

“Jay, if I suddenly started telling you my life story – as quickly as I could, and in no logical order – how much would you actually absorb?” The ace considered that, tugging on a shaggy bit of hair that was just brushing his collar. “Memory, in both humans and Takisians, is laid down in chemical codes on various synapses with a great deal of repetition, and no particular order.” She swiveled to face Mark. “Do you remember when I had to force open Rabdan’s mind?” Mark shuddered. “I had to peel his mind layer by layer, laying bare the memories, and destroying his mind in the process. And this wasn’t accomplished in a minute.”