Chapter 3 Probable Cause

Quant woke up late that afternoon. Medication had taken care of her mammoth headache and subdued her thrashed side to a minor irritation.  Only her back throbbed painfully from the slashes there. She was still angry, but her current anger was a vast improvement over the murderously foul mood in which she had returned; naked of clothing and covered with dirt, blood and gore. Having the private lift meant no innocents had risked strangulation for having dared to look at her. She had gone straight to bed to sleep off the effects of the stun rayer that had left her brain a mass of painful, shorted-out neural connections.

She was now in the bath, clean finally and lying supine on the bottom of the deep tub. The silver filaments of her external lungs had expanded from slender tubes to feather-like strands making her look as though she wore a feathery, silver crown that pulsed in synchronicity with her breathing. chest. The water was warm and soothing. She sighed and a strand of silver air bubbles broke the surface of the water.

“You have a visitor,” the suite’s computer voice announced.

Quant sat up abruptly, water streaming from her as she climbed out of the tub, cursing in Isaarian and trailing water as she thumped purposely toward the entry door. In the living room, she grabbed a handrayer off a white cube, setting it on nullify.

“You have a visitor,” the computer voice repeated. She held the rayer up at shoulder height.

“Open door,” she said quietly and the door hissed back into the wall.

Quant found herself pointing the rayer over the pale, hairless head of Theelian 1175. It looked up at her with white eyes. She deactivated her weapon with a flick of her thumb and let her arm drop to her side.

“Oh. It’s you,” she said and turned away. The Theelian came in. The door closed behind it.

“You’re in pain,” it said to her. Quant, making a grunt her reply, tossed the rayer back on the cube. “What happened to your back?” it asked.

“I had an unexpected delay,” she said absently, wondering if it was “professional” to be naked in front of this alien?  Her skin was absorbing the water of her bath and she was now damp instead of wet.

“You were attacked,” the Theelian stated.

She turned her head to glare at it over her shoulder, her teeth bared. She was in no mood for mind reading tricks.

“Forgive my intrusion,” it apologized quickly; “I am concerned for you. Can I do anything to help? Call an Isaarian medved?”

“NO!” Quant fired back. The last thing she needed was some nosy medic asking stupid questions. “I’ll be all right; I have some stuff I can put on my back.” She walked over to where her travelsak lay in the corner, rummaged through it and pulled out a round, metal container.

“You will need help. I can reach those wounds better than you can. May I?” the Theelian asked her politely. Quant hesitated; she hated the thought of the alien touching her, even for this, but it was right.

“All right,” she said and tossed the container to it. Surprisingly, the Theelian caught it and approached her.

“If you could sit down here, please?” it asked, pointing to a footstool next to it. She sat down.

“Wait!” she said suddenly, turning away from it. “First make certain there is no fresh blood and that you have no open cuts on yours hands, even tiny ones. You must not touch my blood with your bare flesh if any of that holds.”

“You do not bleed anymore, Mauk-Quant and my hands have no wounds,” it said, showing hands small as a child’s and how many fingers did it have? The hands disappeared back inside their long sleeves, suspiciously so, she thought. “Now if I may proceed?” Quant turned away from it, presenting her back.

She heard it open the container and the smell of damp, tangy-scented mud blossomed in the room. The dense scent made her suddenly aware that the little alien really didn’t have much of a personal scent; just the barest whiff of a moldy-cloves odor could be detected under the muddy tang.

“Why must I not touch your blood?” the alien asked as Quant felt the touch of the cooling mud on her the first of her wounds, like ice on a burn. She turned her head towards it again, this time lifting her chin up.

“See my red throat? That means my blood is a neurotoxin.” She saw the white eyes that looked like large pearls, actually convey a sense of puzzlement to her as the alien replied.

“Yes, I understand that was the case, eons ago, for your ancient ancestors when they were tiny creatures just out of the primal birth-ocean, but your species has lost that genetic ability.”

Quant barked her short hyena-hiss laugh and turned away, the Theelian continuing to pack the rank smelling salve into the deep gashes on her back.

“Well, the Zy-Kaar Company decided to bring that back just for me. Said it would be another ‘weapon in my arsenal’.” She shrugged. “And it is.” The small hand on her back paused.

“Aura Zy-Kaar did that to you?”

This time, her merriment caused her to tilt her head back and cough her harsh laugh to the gorgeous snow-white ceiling.

“Aura Zy-Kaar doesn’t even know I exist! No. It was the Elite; her family’s private army of assassins within her regular private army.  It sounds like you don’t know her very well.” Quant said and followed it with a mirthful snort.

“I knew her grandfather, Auran much better.”

Stunned at its words, Quant turned halfway around to face it.

“You knew Auran Zy-Kaar? When he was young?”

“Yes.”

“How old are you?”

With the container in one hand, the Theelian nodded to its muddy brown hand and looked at her. Quant turned back around and felt the gentle pats of the alien’s little hand against her skin.

“We Theelians live for a very long time compared to the other Consolidate races. On the average, we live 2,500 or 3,000 staryears. Some of our Elders are four and five thousand staryears. I am only 1,500 staryears old.”

Only fifteen hundred stayears…? Quant thought, her mind boggling at the thought. The history this alien must have seen! Emboldened by the pain relief the little alien provided on her back, she dared another question, one about which she had wondered.

“So, what are you? Gender-wise? Do you make babies or birth babies?” She heard it give a high-pitched, burbling sound and wondered if it was laughing at her.

“My body cannot gestate the—baby, Mauk-Quant.”

“Alright! You’re a male, then.” She almost crowed it.

“If you say so,” it said serenely. “I am not familiar with this substance you have me using.”

Unseen, Quant’s eyes narrowed. She hadn’t cared for the breezy agreement that had seemed more like humoring her than truth.

“No reason you should be familiar; it’s an Isaarian remedy: swamp rackweed and plain mud. It’ll harden over the wounds and seal it off until it heals.”

“It does not seem very sanitary.” The words were spoken mildly.

“It doesn’t have to be sanitary; it works,” she said shortly.

The cooling salve deadened the fire of her clawed back. She gave an mental sigh of relief as the Theelian re-capped the container and handed it back to her. She tossed it aside on the sofa, then remembered her manners.

“Thanks,” she grumbled as she swung around to face it, the little alien backing up, both hands disappearing inside its sleeves again.

 “Look here, Theelian, ‘if you say so?’ By all that swims and vooks, what does that mean?” She pointed a tarrellum-tipped finger at it. “In your species, you do not, uh, gestate your young inside your body or lay eggs, right?” The little alien nodded in the affirmative.  “Done! You’re a male, then! Don’t try to be so vooking mysterious. It annoys me.”

 “I am sorry to annoy you. Please forgive me.”

 He looked at her in a manner that conveyed sadness, though Quant would not have been able to explain how he did it, and it reminded her of another voice, Salara’s voice saying, “We are paying you to be nice to 1175.” She backtracked quickly.

“No, 1175, no need to apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just a little stressed out after last night.”

“I understand, Mauk-Quant and I take no offense. Can you tell me what happened to you?”

“Pull up a cube. This will be a long story,” she said.  

Quant told her story from beginning to end, including almost everything. She left out the parts where she had gotten a little too intoxicated at the first bar and how a kid had tricked her into walking into what ought to have struck her as an obvious trap.

All through her story, the little alien sat ramrod straight on a cube three feet away from her, the round white eyes never leaving her face.

“It’s true,” she heard him mutter quietly after she finished.

“What’s true?” she asked, puzzled by his reaction.

“Your story.”

Stung, Quant resisted the urge to bare her teeth. “Of course, it’s true!”

“I did not mean to imply that you would lie to me. Please forgive my bad manners today, but your story has upset me greatly.”

The round pearls of his eyes seemed to shimmer or was it a trick of the light? The Theelian’s face was smooth with an emotionless calm.

“You’re upset? I’d never know it to look at you,” she remarked, bluntly. The pearly eyes seemed to shimmer again.

“Sentient beings of different planets must respect that not everyone will show emotion the same way. I am very upset.”

She thought the alien sounded hurt and huffy, but even that was hard to tell. Again, she remembered the Theelian was a walking payday and though she hated it, she told herself to grovel as she hadn’t groveled since she left the Elite.

“I-I apologize,” she said through clenched teeth. “I’m not in the best mood today. I’ve been beaten up, clawed, kicked around, stunned out and shot at by City Security. I’m angry, sore and I want Bayron’s carcass!” The last she said in a snarl as her hand went to her tender side.

“Are you sure you won’t seek medical aid? I sense you are still in pain,” he asked, quietly and her frustrated anger found a target.

“I’M SURE!” she roared in his face.

The Theelian cowered away from her slightly, blinking rapidly, as though he was about to cry. She turned away, disgusted with herself for such a breach of professionalism. Salara would not be happy about her scaring the turds out of this alien, who surprisingly, she didn’t even particularly dislike which added to her feelings of shame and confused her even more as the silence between them drew out more uncomfortably.

Crad’s Jaws! I wish this job were over! I can’t stand much more of this.

The Theelian spoke, breaking the awkward pause.

“I came to tell you that Salara Ni’bal has sent you a message,” he said in a quiet voice. He poked out his hand from its sleeve and held out a flat green metal box.  Quant took it and pushed it into her pyramid shaped communicator sitting on a low table next to them, activating it. On a small screen, a face appeared as a worded description of Bayron scrolled by. She studied it.

He looks like every other R-ly except for—hair? she thought. She read it again, under her breath. “He habitually wears a yellow-colored false hairpiece?” That would be hard to miss! Crad! I’m right back where I started yesterday!  

She then saw the message from Salara:

QUANT, HERE IS YOUR REQUESTED DESCRIPTION OF BAYRON. I’M NOT SURE WHY YOU NEED IT, BUT I SUPPOSE YOU HAVE YOUR REASONS, GOOD ONES, I HOPE. I WANT TO REMIND YOU THAT IT IS MORE IMPORTANT THAT THEELIAN-1175 REACH GRENYA IN SAFETY THAN IT IS TO FIND BAYRON. HE MAY OR MAY NOT BE ON ISAAR PRIME. DON’T TAKE ANY UNNECESSARY CHANCES. DON’T TRUST ANYONE YOU DON’T KNOW PERSONALLY. REPORTS OF INID INDICATE THAT BAYRON HAS CONSIDERABLE POWER AND INFLUENCE WITH SOME ISAARIANS UNDER HIS COMMAND. TRY NOT TO ATTRACT ANY UNNECESSARY ATTENTION TO YOURSELF, ESPECIALLY WITH R-LYS. SALARA, OFF.

Quant pulled the flat box out of the machine and crushed it in her hand, destroying its delicate inner mechanism and rendering it useless. Standard procedure.

“’—especially with R-lys’” she muttered under her breath in Isaarian. “I almost got killed last night. She could have told me all this before I left Grenya. I knew something didn’t smell right about this. ‘Easy job’! Wait until I see her again!”

“I am glad you escaped death, Mauk-Quant, and that we who are left, are all safe.” Theelian said in his quiet, high voice. “I’ll have everyone prepared to leave Isaar this very day.”

Quant got up from her cube, restlessly moving to stand before the wide vista of the city beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. “No, not leaving today. There’s something I want to do first,” she said, her voice too quiet.

“I advise that you not return to the R-ly place, Sumper’s,” Theelian stated.

“Reading my mind again?” she said, not bothering to look around. “Look, I lost a rayer, a new vest, my assassin gear and my credits. I want it back.”

“Surely you have more of these things?”

She swung around to face him. “Yeah, I do, but this is a point of Isaarian honor! I was set up by my own kind to be killed!”

“Honor does not mean much if you are dead.”

Quant crossed her arms over her chest and looked at the Theelian with a steely, silver gaze.

“I’m in charge of this little adventure. We will leave here when I say we leave,” she intoned.

The Theelian stood up and faced her squarely. “You err in your reasoning. You are only in charge of my personal security, not the mission command. I cannot permit you to return to that place alone,” he said, a before-unheard quality of sternness in his thin, high voice.

“I hadn’t planned on going alone. I know some Isaarians who would like nothing better than tearing apart a few fat R-Lys, or any Isaarian renegades for that matter!” she said, her words punctuated by a snarl.

“I cannot permit it,” Theelian repeated, unmoved by her anger.

“I’m not asking for your permission. I could care less about your permission!” she growled at him, approaching him slowly. The Theelian blinked rapidly but didn’t cower or move, and when he spoke, his voice was calming and soft.

“Salara Ni’bal has cautioned us against attracting any more attention. Many lives depend on you doing your job properly. I must insist that you not do this. I ask that you discipline yourself and reconsider. I ask that you stay here and share a meal with us instead. We can leave tomorrow.”

His words halted her. Discipline. That had always been her undoing. That and her temper. As she stood there glaring down at the Theelian, she remembered what her old instructor had told her many, many times: ‘Discipline is the difference between a great assassin and a dead one.’

 He said that she would never be a first-class assassin if she didn’t learn discipline. Quant literally ground her teeth in anger; the old instructor had been right.

“Alright!” she spat out, her hands knotted into fists. “I won’t go, but spare me the meal, please! I’d like to spend what’s left of this day doing something more pleasurable than sitting around stuffing my face with a bunch of aliens and feeling stiff and sore…that is if…you don’t mind?” she said as she tried, belatedly, to swallow her anger and remember her manners.

The Theelian’s tiny mouth curved in a smile. “No, I do not mind. I do have your Isaarian word of honor that you will not seek out the R-lys again?”

“You do,” she grudgingly promised. “I intend to go to a pleasurehouse and spend the night in the arms of a perfect-bodied Isaarian I have yet to meet, but I know he’ll soothe away all my little cares and woes.”  

Dywah was made to order, Quant thought as she sat across from her in the hotel’s own nightspot, the I-Club, a circular room with glass walls and panoramic views of the glittering, nightime city.

Quant had planned to stop in for a quick drink before she continued her journey to a pleasurehouse, but upon learning everything she ordered went on her hotel tab—a tab paid by the Zy-Kaar Company–she reasoned there was no need to spend any of her own money and decided to stay. It was the swankiest bar in Inid and a pleasant enough place at night with low, recessed lighting, soft music and comfortable booths where drinks were ordered by computer and delivered by svelte, silent Isaarian servers.

She had sat at a booth alone, drinking the intoxicating and peppery-smelling Khibanese liquor, thinking about R-lys and snarling softly to herself as she stared out at the vista. She had been thinking about E’gli and how wonderful it would have been to have him in her arms, when she had felt someone watching her. She looked around to see an Isaarian female glancing at her. Dywah. She was sitting at a table, drinking with some fat, chatty Isaarian merchant-type but she soon left him and came over to Quant’s table.

When Dywah came to her table and asked to join her, Quant nodded yes, offering her the opposite side of the booth. Dywah was young, perhaps about twenty and very pretty with her pale golden eyes with their black irises, her light-green throat and belly, a bisque coloration on her back and face, with the small, black spots along the sides of her throat and cheeks. She wore a pale, cream-colored carryvest that from the back looked nude and the front was low cut to show off her boobs that jiggled provocatively. Glittering, lab-created diamond bracelets adored both wrists and her claws were filed down and painted red to simulate blood. Her nutty-almond scent was enticing.

Experience told her that Dywah was a pleasure-unit; her milk breasts were enlarged and she didn’t look like a new mother. Isaarian female pleasure-units often took hormones to make their breasts more enticing to their customers. Quant’s own breasts were flat, nippled bumps that had never been full and never would be; her motherhood had been left on a Zy-Kaar surgical table staryears ago.

Though bisexual, Quant rarely preferred her own gender, but tonight she didn’t feel like trusting some unknown male, pleasure-unit or not. She knew she could handle Dywah if she had to.

Dywah was fun, gay and exciting. She actually lifted Quant’s foul mood and when Quant patted the cushion next to her, Dywah obligingly slid close. They talked about nothing and everything as they flirted with one another. The booze flowed freely and the starhours flitted past.

Quant laid her hand over Dywah’s soft, slightly moist hand and gazed at her with inebriated kindness. “You were just what I needed tonight. I feel so much better being here with you,” Quant said.

Dywah’s gold-colored eyes sparkled with pleasure. “You looked so lonely sitting here by yourself–though I admit I watched you for over a starhour before I dared to approach you; you looked a little forbidding.”

“I know. I saw you watching me.”

“Did you? I was so discreet!”

“I’m trained to notice things like that.”

 “Oh? Are you in the military?”

The peppery wine overrode Quant’s usual good sense of keeping her mouth shut when someone asked what she did for a living. She lowered her voice.

“Yeah. Actually, I’m a…mercenary.”

“An assassin?”

Quant nodded and tipped her head back to pour pale green liquor down her throat. Dywah dipped her long green tongue into her own wineglass and looked at Quant over the rim of her cup.

“Are you on an assignment now? Here in Inid?” she asked as she sat her cup down and tilted her head to one side, her eyes shyly seductive. If Quant had possessed the facial muscles to smile, she would have smiled then.

“No, I work on Grenya. I just live here.”

“I’ve never seen you in here before and I come here all the time.”

“I’ll come here, too, now that I know you’re here. Do you like R-lys?” Quant asked with a drunk’s abrupt change of subject.

Dywah bared her teeth. “No, not very.”

Quant pounded her fist on the tabletop, making the wine cups jump. “I hate them, the nasty little things. THEY SHOULD ALL BE ROUNDED UP AND RAYED!” she declared to the entire room.

Several heads turned around to look at her, but it was too late to be curious and the place was almost empty.

“I have a room here where we could continue this conversation more pleasantly and privately. Would you like to see it?” Dywah asked as she stroked the nubbly skin of Quant’s forearm. Quant could feel Dywah’s tail curl sensuously around her left ankle.

“That depends…I like certain things. Would you let me…?” Quant leaned close to whisper in her ear dimple. As Dywah listened, her almond scent took on a sudden citrusy tang of sexual excitement.

“Oh!  Yes, I would do that,” she said happily, looking up into Quant’s face, and then she faltered. “…You-you wouldn’t hurt me when I am restrained…? Should I be afraid you might kill me?” Dywah resumed, her words cheeky, but nervousness in her gaze.

Quant ran a tongue over Dywah’s cheek, making her shiver and the citrus tang became stronger. “Do you really think I’d have to tie you up to kill you?”

Dywah giggled, a curious burbling cough, and snuggled in closer against Quant’s side. “Nooo, I guess not. You could probably kill me right now, huh?”

Quant put an arm around Dywah’s thick waist and drew her even closer, the succulent citrus pheromones of her like a cloud around her head.

“There are things I’d like to do with you, but killing you is definitely not on that list. I just want to make you very, very happy,” she whispered to the Isaarian girl. “What do you say?”

 “I say, yes!”

*                    *                           *                  *                   *            *

Quant woke up on a hard metal floor. She opened her eyes, sniffed the air and sat up. She was in a small, narrow room, 16 feet long and 8 feet wide with a low 6-foot ceiling. The room consisted of four blank white walls and a stout-looking door with a transparent view plate embedded into the metal. The air smelled of only her own scent. She heard the soft whisper of the air system flowing through the room.

What the vook? Where am I? she thought and saw she was still naked; except for her tarrellum gloves, locked onto her wrists and looking like innocent, cheap jewelry.

The last thing she remembered was drinking booze and rolling around in bed with Dywah, much fun, lovely fun, then releasing the young female to sleep in her arms, sated.

She stood up, bumping her head on the low ceiling. She cursed and angled her long neck forward instead of up and went to look out the door’s view plate. She saw another blank, white wall. She closed her eyes and pressed her forehead on the cool metal.

Ohh, flick me! It can’t be, she thought as she turned and circled the room. Dywah trapped me! I can’t believe I could have been so careless! So stupid!

There was only the one door and a small, circular air vent in the corner of the ceiling that pumped cool air into the room. Her skin felt dry and itchy.

How long have I been in here? That innocent, sweet-faced Dywah must have drugged me somehow. Salara will bust her belly laughing when she finds out! Tricked twice on one job! Dywah; I can’t believe she’s working for the R-lys? Bloody crad, either I’m getting too old for this or my luck is running out. I may as well see what I’ve gotten myself into.

She walked back over to the door and raised a foot to kick it. Aside from the hollow boom of her kick, nothing happened. She flicked out a claw and scratched the surface of the door, uncovering the dull blue sheen of tarrellum, strongest alloy in the Consolidate.

 I won’t be kicking my way through this stuff. I’d better have a look at my jailers.

She stood sideways and began to whip her tail against the door, her hands covering her ear dimples to muffle the echoing booms of noise as she yelled Isaarian curses at the top of her voice.

Very few minutes had passed before she heard an answering thump on the door. She stopped pounding the door as she uncovered her ears and saw an R-ly face in the viewer plate, barely resisting the urge to launch a fist at it.

Now I know who my playmates are, she thought, her stiff lips pulling back to bare her teeth. She had hoped to be wrong about Dywah.

“Stand away from the door, Isaarian! Get back against the far wall!” the R-ly ordered in Interstell. She backed up to the far wall, her eyes on the door. Her plan: to rush the door when it opened.

The door slid open. Her entire body tensed, her pulse quickened. Entered several plump R-Lys in green bodysuits, armed with heavy-duty rayers, all aimed at her. The low humming sound told her the weapons were activated, ready to fire, their wielders looking nervous and frightened. If she sneezed, they would probably ray her. She gave up her escape plan. Three more beings entered the room and she recognized them all.

One was the R-ly who had ordered her death to the renegade Isaarians in the alley; the other was the young Highlander Isaarian who had guided her into the trap. The last was an R-ly with a shock of yellow hair–the yellow wig a striking contrast against the faceted, amber-colored skin–and a matching yellow bodysuit stretched tightly over its rotund body, covering it from neck to ankles.

The elusive Bayron!  Vook  me, he looks ridiculous in that hair but I’d feel more like laughing if I didn’t have five rayers pointed at me.

“Is this the one? Are you absolutely sure?” Bayron asked the young Highlander. Bayron’s voice was cool and cultured, speaking Interstell with a faultlessly correct diction in a voice only a little less squeaky than the other R-lys she had heard.

“That’s her, I’m sure! There’s no mistaking that scent of hers,” said the youth who, after the first look at her, keep his gaze lowered to the floor.

“You treacherous little worm,” Quant said to the boy, speaking Isaarian. “I will skin you alive when I get my hands on you,” she promised, gratified to see him tremble and take a step back from her. Bayron cut her a quick look that silenced her.

“You have done well,” he said to the youth. “Go seek your reward,” and motioned for the small Isaarian to leave as he looked at Quant with another chilling gaze.

“So. You are the assassin who killed four of my best Isaarian operatives and you even escaped the City Security sent to finish you off. I am very distressed about that. It’s hard to find phibbies who are greedy enough and dim-witted enough to work for me. You have caused me problems, Mauk-Quant. Now I have you here as my—guest. Your stay can be as pleasant or as unpleasant as you wish,” he said.

Phibby, an Interstell slur off-worlders used for Isaarians, did less to upset Quant than the oily, smug tones of this ugly alien and Quant really didn’t care for that last bit.

“I hear that you fight in a very unusual way for an Isaarian,” Bayron continued. “Very unusual. How did you learn to fight that way?”

“Natural talent,” she said, a low growl spicing her words.

The armed R-lys muttered amongst themselves as they cast her and Bayron apprehensive looks. Bayron snapped out some R-ly words and they were instantly quiet. Bayron smiled at her, baring his set of interlocking yellowed teeth.

“I see you have a sense of humor. Have your little joke, but I can guess where you learned it. Zy-Kaar’s assassin squad, the E.S.S., is infamous for giving their killers unexpected fighting tactics. Have you come to save the Theelian, or to kill me, or both?”

“You may be ugly but I didn’t come here to relieve the Consolidate of the chore of having to look at your face. And as for Theelians—I hate them almost as much as I hate R-lys.”

“I have no time for these games, Isaarian! I know you are here for the Theelian. My spies on Grenya have already told me that.”

“If you’re so informed, why do you need me to answer questions? Why am I here?”

“You are here because I wished it so. You are not the one I wanted to lure here, but…someone of your skills could be useful to me. Would you like to join my employ?”

“Do I look that greedy or dim-witted?  I’d sooner lick your fat little feet dry,” she spat out.

Through interlocking, bared teeth, Bayron gave a bubbling laugh.

“Careful, Mauk-Quant, you may find yourself begging me to let you do just that!” 

There was a harsh, grating sound as Quant’s hands formed into clutching claws, her wide body hiding the dull blue scratches that stood out starkly against the whiteness.

“The scavenger-bugs will feed off your carcass first!” she promised the alien, her anger surging through her.

“I see you need more time to think about it. Perhaps when your skin dries up and falls off you’ll be more polite and respectful to your betters, phibby,” he said casually and turned to leave, the line of R-lys opening to permit him exit to the door.

Every Isaarian has a primordial fear of their skin drying out, a painful and slow way to die. A genetic alarm exploded inside Quant’s head. Reason fled. Recklessly, she pushed off the wall and leaped for the door, her claws out, her teeth bared in a head-cleaving bite, ready to slay anything standing in her way.

All five rayers pulsed a veritable wall of green, bathing her entire body in green effulgence. Her nervous system shorted out into shocked, spasms of blinding pain. Before her leaping body hit the floor, she was blessedly unconscious.

            *                      *                      *                      *                     

Quant was aware of a sudden rush of air over her skin and felt the vibrations of someone walking on the metal floor. Voices drifted in and out of her hearing like clouds drifting before the sun.

“—outrageous—beyond all codes of decency—-demand—be altered!”

“—Bayron–countermand–gave orders!—“

There was a long silence. Her nasal tissues were too dry to scent anything. She heard the sound of feet shuffling out.

“Mauk-Quant? Quant, can you hear me?” a high, familiar voice said.

She managed to wriggle the tip of her tail in reply and hoped that would be enough. She felt a cool, light touch on the top of her head.

“There is no pain, Mauk-Quant, there is no more pain,” the voice said and just like that, the agony she had lived with for an eternity, receded.

She opened her eyes and heard the eyelids tear, but felt no pain. Looking incredibly tall, Theelian was bending over her. She thought she saw a strange, pale, three-fingered hand disappearing back into his sleeve.

“It is I, Theelian. Don’t try to move yet. They are bringing water for you.”

Quant’s eyeballs shifted to the door of her cell. It was wide open and they were alone. She looked back at Theelian. “I know you want to escape but believe me, this is not the time,” he whispered.

Several R-lys came in laboring under the big, metal containers they hauled. One R-ly seemed to be in charge.

“Put that water down there. You bring some food,” he ordered his brethren.

Theelian looked down at the smaller alien. “I will also need some cloth to cover her,” he said.

“Quiet, prisoner! Be grateful Leader Bayron has ordered this phibby food and water,” he snapped in reply as the others filed out. He gave them a last glare and followed his comrades out. The door closed behind him.

Completely free of pain and vastly curious, Quant watched as Theelian pulled at the center of his clothing and a seam appeared. He stepped out of his baggy, tent-like garment, revealing a smaller version of the same garment underneath. He tore the shed garment into wide cloth strips and placed them over her from nose to tail.

“This will keep bits of dirt from your exposed underflesh; the water does not look very sanitary,” he said and picking up a container of water, began to pour it over her.

She was lying in a pool of brown water. Theelian had up-ended every container over her and she was thoroughly soaked when an R-ly returned with a covered bowl and a container of drinkable water. Frowning in distaste, he sloshed through the ankle-deep puddle and handed the items over to Theelian who put them on an up-ended container. She watched as Theelian stepped up to the R-ly, who stood still, staring up at him. She saw Theelian’s third arm appear and the pale, long three-fingered hand fastened atop the R-ly’s lemon-shaped head. There was silence and then the R-ly spoke, “Yes.” Theelian’s arm retreated into his garment and the R-ly left. Theelian turned away and knelt down next to her in the brown water.

“Can you sit up?” he asked her.

“—Drink—“ she croaked. He fetched the water jar, lifted her head and poured some liquid past her teeth. Swallowing was a reflex. She drained the container.

Minutes later, she lay on the floor, breathing in the familiar smell of brackish Isaarian seawater. Nothing hurt! She pushed up from the floor to sit up and back on her heels, the strips of sodden brown cloths falling into the water with wet splats.

“Thanks!” Quant said. “I hate to say it—considering where we are—but I am real glad to see you!”

The corners of his tiny mouth curved upwards in a smile. “I am glad to see you also, Mauk-Quant.”

“Don’t be formal—you saved my life! You can call me Quant.” She looked around. Pieces of her own brown, dried-up, top skin littered the floor, floating on the water. She held out her arms and saw her own subcutaneous yellow flesh patchworked with what was left of her brown top skin. “I must be a real pretty sight,” she said with sarcasm.

Theelian daubed at her cracked eyelids with a water-soaked cloth.

“You are very good sight, Quant. We thought you were dead.”

“I thought I was dead, too! Vook, Theelian, what are you doing here?”

“We—Toak and the Grenians—were captured trying to get to the space patch last night.”

“Last night? You went at night? Why?”

“I thought it the safest way.”

“Safe? Crad’s Teeth! Safe is daytime and hundreds of people around! I’d have thought that Coleedian would have known better,” Quant said, more amazed than angry.

“Don’t blame Sub-commander Toak; she followed my orders. Unfortunately, I am no trained assassin.”

“How long have I been in here?”

“You disappeared a little less than a starweek ago.”

“Just a starweek? It felt like months, years—waiting and watching my skin dry up and fall off. I could barely breathe without hurting! Crad, I pray I never have to go through that again. I’d kill myself first! Funny—it doesn’t even sting now and I’m not even hungry.” Her voice was puzzled; she hadn’t eaten in a starweek. How could that be right?

“Quant, you are hungry and in pain. I overrode your brain receptors and implanted thoughts of no pain and no hunger. I know you dislike the thought of someone delving within your mind, but please understand I had to or you would be in the same agony, even now,” he explained, his round white eyes giving off that pearlescent shimmer. Quant nodded.

“Believe me, Theelian, it’s fine with me. Delve away.”

Theelian smiled and stood up. He fetched the food and handed it to her. “You must eat hungry or not. You are very weak.”

Quant uncovered the bowl and picked up a piece of half-cooked, unidentifiable flesh between two metal tips.

“I hope this isn’t anyone I know,” she muttered, half-joking as she popped the morsel into her mouth and ate it. To her surprise, it tasted good.

“Quant, I am afraid we are all that is left. The R-lys killed all the Grenians last night. If we are to survive we must have a plan.”

Quant paused in her chewing, thinking of the Coleedian, imprisoned in another cell, then mentally shrugged. “I’m listening,” she said between swallows of food.

“When I probed that R-ly’s mind, I learned that Bayron offered you a job.”

“I turned him down.”

“I know, but now you have to pretend to accept his offer.”

 Quant stopped chewing and her silver eyes narrowed dangerously.

“After what he did to me? I’d sooner kill him,” she said, her voice shimmering with snarls.

“Please reconsider. It’s the only way I can get help for you,” Theelian said in his calm, quiet voice.

“Help for me?” she repeated, puzzled.

“Yes!’ he said firmly. “Because you feel better now does not mean you are better. Your skin needs to be regenerated to heal properly. Only Bayron can authorize that and he will not do it unless you can be of some use to him. If you volunteered to work for him, you may get a weapon. Perhaps we could even escape from here.”

“I was unconscious when they threw me in this hole. Where are we?”

“We are in an R-ly complex on an island just off the coast of Inid City. We are inside the rock, underground.”

“I know it; Crad Island. They come here to breed at this time of year.”

“’Crad’? I hear you use the term but I am unsure what it means.”

“The crad? Crad are huge, blind, water-breathing monsters that are always hungry and they eat anything that moves. They used to feed off my remote ancestors until we evolved to the land. They still kill hundreds of Isaarian swimmers every staryear—like my parents. There’s nothing worse than crad—except being called one. We’d never be able to swim out of here with hundreds of them around. Imagine! I was surrounded by an ocean of water while I puckered up in here!” Quant shrugged the irony away and then nodded her head.

“Now that I know what it’s like to almost die of dehydration, I’m certain I don’t want to go that way. I’d rather have my head bitten off in an honest fight.”

“Good. I am sure Bayron will come to question me. When he does, you must pretend to still be in pain. Lie down and do not move or speak. I will speak for both of us. Is that agreeable to you?”

“Fine; anything you say.”

She hears steps approaching from down a metal corridor.  Quant swallowed the rest of her meat, tossed the bowl aside and lay down on her belly in the muddy puddle, her eyes closed to tiny slits. The door opened. One R-ly with a handrayer came in; followed by Bayron, covered from neck to heels in a bodysuit of ruby red, his yellow hairpiece like a crown, and the R-ly she had met before in Sumper’s.

Just one guard with a handrayer? There were five or six last time, with heavy-duty rayers.  She felt strangely insulted. That turdy little Bayron must really think I’m helpless. Ah, whom am I kidding? she thought as her insult evaporated. I am helpless, regardless of what that old instructor said about assassins being helpless only when they’re dead. He never had his skin fall off.

Theelian tilted his head forward in a polite greeting and waited for Bayron to speak.

“Welcome, Theelian. I am Bayron. I hope you have been treated well?”

 The sour milk scent of him tingled in Quant’s nostrils and she had to fight the sudden urge to leap up and rip him apart. Maybe that old instructor knew what he was talking about after all.

“I am very upset to find my good friend, Mauk-Quant, in this deplorable condition. I insist that she be put into a regeneration unit at once,” Theelian said. Quant saw Bayron glance down at her.

“Oh? She told me she didn’t know any Theelians. She said she hated them.”

“An act of a friend. She wanted to shield me from involvement.”

“How noble of our large, peeling phibby.” There was a derisive humor in his voice. “How did you come to know her?”

“I met her at the Inid Travel & Transport House. She has a room there. We became friends. Please, in the name of decency, I beg you to help her.”

“She is of no use to me.”

“Quant is a highly skilled mercenary. She could be very useful to you.”

The R-ly gave the Theelian a level, mocking gaze. “Very well, Theelian. I’ll play your little game and pretend not to know that you are directly connected with Aura Zy-Kaar and her gang of thugs,” Bayron said, smiling and showing his yellow, jagged, interlocking teeth.

 Quant could smell his putrid breath from where she lay and wondered how Theelian bore it. Did Theelian even have a nose?

“You are correct about the phibby’s value, but she refused to join me when I first made my offer. She was very impolite in her refusal. It’s no fault of mine she lays there.”

“Please. I will speak to her. After this, I am sure I can convince her to join you. An offer of some form of payment may entice her further.”

“I will offer her life instead of death,” Bayron said and giggled at his own humor. “She’ll take that instead of money and be glad of it.”

Quant willed her body to keep still as she fantasized ripping Bayron’s throat out—if he had a throat. The other R-ly spoke.

 “Leader Bayron, money does buy a certain degree of loyalty, not much of course, but there is less of a chance she’ll turn on you.”

“You are right, Scunner. This phibby doesn’t care for me too well,” Bayron agreed. “Money is good but I want to have more assurance of her loyalty than that.” He turned to speak to Theelian. “I will order her to be put into regen and you will talk to her. If she doesn’t agree to join me, she will be killed.” With distaste, he looked at the murky brown water that soaked his footwear. “Who gave the order to bring this water?”

The guard who held the rayer looked at him. “You did, Leader Bayron.”

“I did not. Scunner, find out who is responsible for this and feed him to the crad.”

His second-in-command bowed his head low. “It will be done,” he said.

Bayron turned and left. Scunner followed in his wake. The guard stood where he was, looking dazed.

“I’m sorry,” Theelian said to him. “This one who gave the order, he is your brother, isn’t he?” The R-ly nodded slowly. “I’m very sorry,” Theelian said again, his voice very soft.

Enough! It’s just a smelly little R-ly! Theelian sounds as though he really cares!

“Bayron has ordered Mauk-Quant into the regen unit. May I suggest we do this now?” Theelian asked in his thin, high voice. The R-ly turned and shuffled out, leaving them unguarded again. Quant opened her eyes wide.

“Nice speech, Theelian. You said everything that vooking little turd wanted to hear. You come in pretty handy,” she said. Theelian didn’t turn or answer.

Quant pushed herself up to her hands and knees and stretched her long neck around to look into Theelian’s face. “What’s the matter?” she asked.

“Because of me an R-ly will die.”

 “What R-ly? Who cares?”

“I probed an R-ly guard—that one’s brother—and made him think Bayron had ordered him to bring water for you. The other R-lys believed him. I didn’t think he’d be put to death for such.”

“Is that what happened? Listen, Theelian, you had no way of knowing Bayron would do that. He’s a beast. It’s his fault, not yours. That’s the kind of turd he is. He rules by fear. Obviously, his own people don’t mean any more to him than we do.”

“Your logic is faultless but it does not change the fact that the R-ly will die,” he said, his voice very quiet. He stood with bowed head and shoulders and did not look at her.

“Would you rather I died?”

He turned and looked at her with shimmering eyes, his tiny mouth pinched in pain. “No, of course not.”

“It was me or him.”

“It’s just—you don’t know how it feels—the shock, the anguish of a brother’s death by so gruesome a means! The sadness, the despair–!”

“Space that! Just turn it off!” she interrupted, suddenly feeling concerned. She had never seen the little alien behave with such emotion; emotions she had not guessed he possessed.

“It’s not that easy. It is not something over which I have full control. To know what others feel is as natural to me as breathing is to you. I often wish I could shut off the constant waves of emotions hitting me all the time…from every side…” Theelian’s voice faded and his eyes glazed over as though viewing some interior scene.

“I–admit that doesn’t sound too great,” Quant said slowly. It sounded horrific. “Doesn’t it make you feel—unbalanced?”

“No. Just tired. It is not as bad as it sounds. When I am with friends who like me, it can be very pleasant. Unfortunately, not too many people like Theelians,” he said, his voice matter-of-fact. He seemed to be recovering his habitual poise.

A rush of embarrassment washed over Quant and she could not meet the Theelian’s gaze.

“About what Bayron said—I didn’t really say that I hated Theelians—I mean—I did, but I didn’t know any better. I believed what everyone said about Theelians. I’m sorry.”

Theelian smiled. “You make me feel much better, Quant. Thank you.”

She raised her gaze and saw him smiling. “You’re thanking me? But I just said—“

 He grasped her wrist with surprising strength, his manner suddenly alert, his head tilted to one side.

“Wait! Someone approaches. Lie down. They will be more relaxed about guarding you if they think you are helpless,” Theelian whispered. Quant plopped down on her belly and waited to be taken away.

                        *                      *                      *                      *

Her regeneration took a full starweek. For the first few days, she did little more than eat and sleep as she lived in the 5 foot tall by 8 feet long regeneration tank, bathed in bubbling green liquid. Whenever she awoke, Theelian was there. He fed her, talked to her, comforted her and they watched her skin grow back.

Quant was aware she looked a different being underwater; her physical appearance changed. Replacing her heavy-footed gait was a surprising grace and boneless suppleness. Her dull red belly and throat now appeared bright crimson. A clear, nictitating membrane covered her eyeballs, dimming the bright silver color to matte grey. Her round nostrils pinched closed and her external gills’ silver filaments thickened from limp, slender straws to feathery plumes that floated around her head like hair, pulsating gently as they sifted oxygen from the water.

At the starweek’s end, Quant climbed out of the tank, whole and healed with tan colored skin interspersed with what remained of the old brown.

“I feel great! Even my kicked side doesn’t hurt anymore,” she said to the smiling Theelian. She walked a few steps, looking around and noticed what looked like a covered body lying on the far side of the room. “Who’s that?” she asked as water collected under her feet.

“That was Toak.”

“WHAT?” Quant’s jaws gaped open and her eyes widened. “Oh no! You didn’t you tell me they had killed her! Aura Zy-Kaar will be beyond fury!”

“No, Quant, calmness, please. I may as well tell you—that isn’t the real sub-commander. It is a security double.”

“A mechanical double? It can’t be. It smelled like a Coleedian!” she said, staring at the covered form.

“Zy-Kaar Company possesses very advanced technology. I assure you that the real Sub-commander Toak is alive and well on Grenya,” Theelian said in a calm, gentle voice.

Quant heaved a sigh of relief and turned away, her head lowered in thought.

A mechanical double.  My brains must have dried up, too. I learned about security doubles back in the Elite, but they never worked against races with a well-developed sense of smell. Some technology! I should have known. That fake Toak acted so stiff and strange and she wasn’t in charge of anything. I should have been able to put that 2 +2 together! Vook! Maybe I should retire as E’gli wants. Maybe I will—if I get out of this alive.

“I am pleased you are well again. All of your belongings are here,” she heard Theelian say. She looked down at him and he nodded at the bags at the other end of the room. Quant went through the travelsak she had left at the hotel and pulled out a new, dark brown carryvest.

After a starweek of being buoyed up by water, being on land felt awkward. Her body felt heavy and ponderous. She glanced at Theelian who watched her with its ever-calm face and pearlescent gaze as she pulled on the vest. She put a hand at her waist, stuck out her hip, and wriggled her thick, tapering tail in a seductive manner.

“Am I as cute on land as I am in water?” she asked, teasingly and wondered if she could tease a Theelian? Did they even have a sense of humor?

“You look very good to me alive, Quant,” he said, still smiling.

“Praise that!” she agreed and inspected the contents of her travelsak again. “Everything’s here—my rayer, my special weapons—! Bayron seems very sure that we can’t escape. I wonder why? Is he that stupid or just overconfident?” She looked up at Theelian. “Have you been able to look around?”

“No, the door is locked. They granted me the request of abiding in here as you healed, but we are still prisoners.”

“We were prisoners,” she corrected in a subdued growl.  “As soon as I get a chance to look around, we are getting out of here.”

“Perhaps Bayron has forgotten us? He has not been to see us since the day we saw him last.”

“Praise small miracles,” Quant snorted and started to fill the many pockets of her carryvest with the tools of her trade.

“Quant, I must to speak to you. I understand why you dislike Bayron—“

“I don’t dislike him, I hate his guts! I want him dead,” she interrupted, pinning the little alien with narrowed eyes. Theelian lifted up his small hands, palms out in supplication.

“You have good reason to hate him but you must be polite this time and not anger him. You must be respectful. He craves that more than anything else. You must do or agree to whatever he asks. Our lives will depend on it. Please, will you try?” His upturned face was like a pale moon and his white iris-less orbs seemed to beg her to reason. The tiny slit mouth trembled.

How could she have ever thought this alien stone-faced and emotionless? The shifts of expression that accompanied his high emotions were very subtle but unmistakable now that she knew what to look for. He was frightened for her, not himself. Careful to use only the open palm of her gloved right hand, she tenderly stroked his soft, quivering cheek.

“Dreeling, when you ask me so sweetly, how can I refuse? Yes, I’ll be good—within reason.”

At her touch, his trembling ceased and he smiled up at her. “Only for a very good reason, I hope,” he said softly. Quant’s hand dropped to her side.

“You sound like no reason in the world would be good enough! If he told me to bite off your head, I wouldn’t obey the little turd!” she said hotly, turning away to seal up her travelsak.

“That is not a good enough reason,” he whispered, very softly. Quant heard. She turned to look at him.

“Now look here, I know we’re from different cultures, different starsystems, but life must mean more to you than that!”

“Life means more to me than I can ever say.”

“Then why–? Hey! I hear a lot of people coming,” she said. She sealed her last vest pocket and pushed the travelsak away with her foot as she turned towards the only entrance.

The doors opened and several armed guards entered and pointed their activated weapons at her. Scunner, dressed in a black bodysuit, walked in followed by Bayron, resplendent in a bright green, skin-tight bodysuit and a short, neon-yellow wig that sat on his head like a small hat.

“Theelian 1175, how nice to see you again. You are looking well,” Bayron said and smiled, showing jagged yellow teeth.

Theelian bowed his head. “I greet you, Bayron. I want to thank you for helping my friend, Mauk-Quant.”

Bayron looked at her. She kept her mouth closed, her teeth covered and her hands behind her back as she dipped her head forward to bow at Bayron.

“Mauk-Quant, you look better than I last remembered you—if a bit more colorful. I see your little experience has helped you acquire better manners. Theelian said you wanted to work for me.”

“Yes, I would. There’s no reason to have those weapons aimed at me. I’m on your side, “she said, her voice calm. She saw a sneer pull his wide mouth to one side.     

“I’ll be the judge of that. Be aware the weapons are set to kill you this time, if you are considering using the weapon I so trustingly let you have back.”

She looked over his head rather than at him. “I will not betray you,” she lied.

“I am considering making you my personal bodyguard. You would protect me, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” she lied again.

“Ah, would you? I wonder. What are you thinking right now, phibby? About how much you’d like to rip me apart? See me dead?” Bayron said with a chuckle, highly amused.

Yes! YES! Her mind cried out.

“We’ll have to see how our budding relationship works out,” Bayron continued. “Oh, Vo-E’gli sends you his love.”

E’gli? How does he know of E’gli? Her mind raced and her eyes widened as they riveted upon Bayron. Automatically, her arms came out from behind her back with claws curled into striking formation.

“No! Quant!” Theelian called, taking a step toward her. She tore her gaze from Bayron and looked at the Theelian. His opaque white eyes shimmered with some emotion or energy. Tension filled the room. The armed guards shifted nervously, their fingers twitching on the triggers of their weapons. Slowly, Quant took a deep breath and let it out as she lowered her arms, put her hands behind her back, and stared over the R-ly’s head. Theelian’s erect figure slumped forward a little and his eyes lost their curious light.

“You control her well, Theelian,” Bayron said, sounding satisfied. He walked the ten feet that separated them and stopped before Quant. “Down,” he ordered her. “I’m tired of looking up at you.”

Quant dropped to her knees, keeping her gaze on the floor. The sour-milk stench of the R-ly was thick in her nostrils. Her jaws fairly tingled with the urge to bite.

“That’s better. I don’t want to miss a muscle twitch on your face. Have you no reply for your beloved Vo-E’gli?”

Intuition told Quant not to lie. “I send him my greetings. Tell him I hope to see him soon.” Her voice was low and clear.

“Excellent. I see we have progressed beyond the point of lies. Yes, I know about Vo-E’gli. I had people investigate you, phibby. I know everything you’ve done since you arrived on this planet two staryears ago. It’s obvious you’ve had your training off-world; no Isaarian-trained mercenary is even close to your skill and technique. I’d say you are or were a member of Zy-Kaar’s Elite Security Section—the Assassin Squad. It’s the trademark of old Ra-lell to train his assassins to fight in the most unexpected ways as you do. It could be that you’ve been sent here to kill me, but none of that matters now. If you are foolish enough to harm me, Vo-E’gli will die that slow death of dehydration you phibbies fear so much, and I’m sure you feel too strongly about your lover’s well-being to want to see any harm come to me. Do you understand? Do you?”

“Yes,” Quant whispered, too shocked to even think. How could they have found out about E’gli?

“Good. You guards can leave now,” Bayron said, waving nonchalantly as though waving away an insect. The R-lys shouldered their weapons and shuffled out. The silent Scunner stayed off to Bayron’s left flank, watchful. 

“There!” Bayron said when the doors closed on their exit. “See how much I trust you? Mauk-Quant, you must also trust and protect me. No harm will come to Vo-E’gli as long as I stay alive. I’ll even give you a generous salary. We’re going to be very good together, aren’t we?”

“Yes…” Her voice sounded dazed. She felt dazed.

“Excellent. There’s one more thing—I remembered you once said something about “licking my fat little feet dry’?”

Blankly, Quant looked at him. He was grinning at her, his long mouth stretched as wide as a frog’s. He bent over, pulled off his green ankle boot, and exposed his flat, wide two-toed foot.

“They’re not wet, but they are sweaty. Lick it dry,” he ordered with wicked mirth.

Quant flinched away from him, her disgust thick in her throat.

“DO IT!” he snarled, his voice nasty. He smiled at her again. “Do it for Vo-E’gli, if you wish—for his continuous good health—and yours. Do it now.”

She froze with panic and revulsion.

I can’t! I won’t! Could he really have E’gli? How else could he know the name? Oh, my E’gli! I never wanted this to touch you. This can’t be happening to me! I must be dreaming!

“I’m waiting, “Bayron said in a sing-song voice.

Slowly, Quant bent forward onto her hands and lowered her upper body until she was parallel to the floor. She stretched her neck toward Bayron. Abruptly, he planted his foot on her forehead, between her eyes.

“Wait. Beg me.”

“What–?” she exhaled in a gasp. Her eyes rolled up to look at his face. There was a malicious glint of cruelty in his black, red-iris eyes.

“I said that one day you’d beg me to let you lick my feet.” His voice was clear and every word distinctly pronounced. “This is the day. Beg me.”

Quant closed her eyes, mentally chanting E’gli’s name to keep from killing this alien where he stood; it would just take one bite to the belly, a quick pull and his guts would be steaming pile at his feet.

“Please,” she gritted out from between tightly clenched teeth.

“Please, what?” Bayron asked, his voice cheerful.

She opened one eye and looked at Theelian. He had turned away from them and now faced the empty regen tank, his head and shoulders bowed. She closed her eye.

“Please—let me–lick your feet,” she said, her voice low.

Bayron cackled a laugh. “You may,” he said, taking his foot off her head to stick it under her nose. Quant’s thin purple tongue snaked out from between her teeth and touched the sole of Bayron’s foot. Scunner’s laugh joined Bayron’s, both of their glee rising higher when the R-ly kicked her face away. Her thick neck muscles absorbed the force of the blow.

“Enough fun. I have work to do.” He waved Scunner over and the subordinate knelt and set about replacing his boot. “Mauk-Quant, you will remain in this complex. Your dear Vo-E’gli will suffer if you try to escape,” Bayron ended. Then he and Scunner turned and left, the doors closing on their laughter. Quant spat on the floor and stood upright.

“I’m sorry, Quant. I’m so sorry you had to undergo that,” Theelian said.

“Was he lying? Was Bayron lying about E’gli?” she said in a low voice choked with rage.

“Who?” he answered in a dreamy-sounding voice.

A shiver ran down Quant’s spine and made the tip of her tail twitch. She walked over and turned Theelian around by the shoulder, surprised to feel how thin he was under the voluminous garment he wore.

“E’gli! Vo-E’gli, my lover! Was Bayron lying about having him captive?”

“I do not know. I try to avoid feeling emotions like that. It is painful in a way I could never describe,” he said, his voice soft and closed his eyes.

Quant rattled the alien’s frail shoulder in a vigorous shake “Don’t fold up on me now! I need you!” she barked.

Theelian opened his eyes and looked up at her. “You’re touching me—no one ever wants to touch me…”

Feeling uneasy, she let go of his shoulder. “Theelian, have you gone unbalanced?”

He smoothed his white garment down with pale thin hands and blinked at her, looking as though waking from a dream.

“No. I’m all right. I was just—I can’t help you, Quant. To get the information you want, I would have to probe Bayron; touch him. I’m sorry; I don’t know if he has your Vo-E’gli. He may.”

“And he could be bluffing,” she growled, “that slimy, insufferable piece of R-ly trash! Now he wants to me guard his fat carcass! I’d just as soon rip out his throat!” She paced the room’s length, swinging her tail in wide, nervous sweeps. “It’s been a starmonth since I left Grenya. I’ve been given up for dead and maybe you have too. No one is going to help us but ourselves. Vook! I wish I knew what to do!”

She stopped pacing and looked at the covered body of the security double. “Did the double transmit those messages to Grenya?” she asked the Theelian.

“Yes,” he answered calmly.

“Maybe we can send for help!” Quant went over to the robot. She pulled the cover back. The double had no head. A metal stump of a neck showed it had been rayed off. “So that’s how they discovered it wasn’t the real Toak Zy-Kaar! Space it! That’s where the communication unit was!” she cursed and threw the cover down on the double’s chest.

The doors slid open and two R-lys came in. “All right, you aliens, time to move it. You, phibby; come with me. And you, Theelian, you’ll go with Blevvyn,” one said.

“Where are you taking Theelian?” Quant demanded.

“Down to a holding cell, if that’s any of your business.”

“A holding cell?” she repeated, puzzled. She had assumed the Theelian would stay close to her. She went to where he was already gathering his travelsak. “Theelian, did you hear that?”

“Of course. It seems that Bayron does not trust me; I am still a prisoner. At least you are free.  I do not mind, Quant. I could use some time alone.”

“You can be alone in a decent room, not some bare, four-walled hole! I’ll try to talk to His Highness, Bayron, into letting you out. There’s no reason to keep you locked up; you’re not going to hurt anyone. You’re one of the most harmless beings I’ve ever met,” she cried. Theelian stopped packing and smiled at her.

“Thank you, Quant, but do not. There is no reason to upset Bayron on my behalf; you might endanger your own position. Please believe me when I say it does not matter where I am. I would ask you to watch your temper; will you?”

“Hurry up there, you two! Bayron wants you to come quickly, phibby!” the R-ly called. Quant looked at him over her shoulder and spoke in her meanest growl.

“My name, R-ly, is Mauk-Quant. You call me “phibby” one more time and I will rip out our tongue and feed it to your friend. You understand?”

The R-ly put his hand on the butt of his rayer.

“Don’t fool yourself. You’d be dead before you could aim it,” she told him. He dropped his hand and his eyes shifted nervously in his head.

“Do not antagonize them, Quant,” Theelian said softly. Reluctantly, Quant nodded.

“I’d better go, then. I’ll try to come and see you if I get a chance. Take care.” She went to fetch her own travelsak.

“All right, ugly; let’s go,” she said to the R-ly.

She followed him to the door, and then paused to look back at Theelian.  The alien smiled and nodded at her. She left.

To be continued...