Only Human (7 page)

The houses were open and airy, large
windows allowed a view of whole interiors, and top stories often had no walls
at all but only a roof supported by stone pillars and curtains for privacy. She
was amazed to see that livestock, too, occupied some of the roof rooms. But
then, while every house had at least a small kitchen garden, there was no space
for stables and pens between the buildings.

It was wonderfully disorienting to walk
through these crowded, ancient streets and then to look to the horizon where
graceful skyscrapers rose above the Union quarter, the air whirring with
arriving and departing traffic. In the distance hovered cloud-swathed
volcanoes, their slopes covered in jungle growth.

And everywhere she looked, people went
about their business of shopping, selling, strolling and thieving, threading
their way through alleys and stifling heat, oblivious of the wonder in which
Nova observed them all. It was difficult to distinguish native from Terran and
Centauri here. They looked so very much alike that Nova decided that those
individuals that wore the warmest clothing and did not seem to fight gravity
with every step must be native Feydans. Tychon attracted some attention,
Delphians still being a rarity in this sector.

Unexpectedly, the street turned into an
open market. Tychon led her into a sort of public house where they sat on rough
wooden benches and were served a sticky conglomeration of fatty meat, sauce and
vegetables, all of it wrapped carefully in a sheet of what appeared to be
bread. A tankard of warm, spicy ale completed the menu, which did not vary from
one table to the next. Both of them passed on a platter of what appeared to be
roasted insects.

"Archaic," Nova commented.
"But so so very good."

They were served by a mute Chayko male, a
slave mark livid on his thigh. Nova furrowed her brow. Had she been in uniform
she would have confiscated the slave and arrested the owner. But then, had she
been in uniform this Chayko would not have been sent to serve them.

She passed the jug to Tychon before
remembering that most Delphians did not impair their minds with spirits.

"Be careful,” he warned. “I imagine
that you have not had anything but space slop in a long time."

"I haven't had a lot of things in a
long time," she replied.

He tilted his head. Amusement lit his eyes.

She blushed. "I meant, well, I've been
on a base for so long..." she frowned defensively. “Where is your mind at,
anyway?"

He suddenly grasped her wrist.

"Hey!"

"You cannot eat that." He took a
piece of fruit from her hand. "Only cooked food for you here, Human."

"I should have thought of that!"

"No harm done, Greenie." He
looked past her shoulder to greet a short, squat woman who had come to their
table. They spoke too rapidly for Nova to make out more than the gist of their
conversation. Apparently, a Union liaison had been abducted by Tharron's men
and was to be traded back for a spy held by the Union.

Not a chance, Nova thought.

Tychon turned to her. "I have to go
with this one for a while. She doesn't want to be seen with both of us. Do not
go far from here. Meet me here in one hour. If I am not back, go back to the Eagle
for clear air or, better yet, find a place where they sell respirators and pick
up a supply. We will need to visit Feyd fairly often."

Nova grumbled at this but agreed. The
market outside with its fascinating people made up for being excluded. No doubt
he would brief her later.

She strolled among the stalls, stopping
often to chat and examine the wares imported from any place accessible to
traders who were often willing to take an uncharted jumpsite in their search
for profit. In that way, they were the Union's best unpaid source of explorers.

The vendors of Feyd offered an incredible
variety of things for sale. There were fine costumes in rich fabrics made on
Pelion and Nebdan, intoxicating wines, pastes and tobaccos of Feyd itself and
hundreds of gadgets and novelties from other worlds. Pebbles gathered in the
Outlands were set like jewels in rings and headbands. Shaddallam leather, more
supple than silk, was sold at outrageous prices to those that could afford it.
Nova gaped like a child at tame grush cats and the colorful birds of Genen and
smiled indulgently when she saw peanuts transplanted from Earth to Trans-Targon
and sold here as aphrodisiacs. She tried not to stare at the many travelers
from distant places who did not consider themselves part of the attractions.

A mild feeling of lightheadedness began to
annoy her. It was probably time to return to the Eagle but she could not quite
remember why. No one sold respirators here and nothing reminded her to buy one
to filter the still, pollen laden air of Feyd. It had not occurred to her to
head uptown in search of a dispensary. The heat of the day made her drowsy and
she slowed her steps, soon only ambling along her way, her eyes and thoughts
flitting over the many strange things to be seen. Time passed as she watched an
artisan create a miniature flower out of sugar and she would have stood there
for hours had not a sudden commotion startled her.

"Dun uragla, ragla!" a man
shouted after a thief. The boy, no more than ten or so, raced toward Nova, a smile
of mischievous glee on his face. He knew that he would get away and Nova stood
aside as he passed, watching his escape. The crowd was now either cheering or
cursing the boy or the merchant, Nova did not know which.

A group of people joined the chase and Nova
was pushed out of the way. Her hands found no hold as she sought to keep her
balance. The high grasses of a ditch beside the road softened her fall and a
heady scent wafted up, a sweet odor that carried with it a sharper taste of
herbs.

Someone helped her to her feet. Nova looked
at the grass stains on her hands and shirt and laughed. What a strange, amusing
day! Still chuckling, she wandered on, away from the crowd. She seemed to have
lost her parcels of purchases. That seemed funny, too.

It occurred to her that there might be
something that she should be doing. The crowd soon thinned and after passing
the crumbled remains of an old wall, Nova found herself outside of town. She
saw a few vineyards in the distance and a fork in the road that led into a
small stand of woods. It would probably be cooler there, she thought, walking
onward.

She came upon a stream that meandered
through the little forest, deepening in this glade before it broadened on its
way through the city. She sat down, watching the running water, the way it
bounced off rocks and glinted in the filtered sunlight from above. The day
seemed to grow even hotter as she dreamed quietly, occasionally rubbing her
skin where the irritating dust of the roadside flowers had adhered. No one was
near and she felt very sleepy.

Then someone called her name. Perhaps she
should answer. What was his name again?

* * *

"Nova!" When she had failed to
appear both at the inn and the airfield, Tychon had looked for her in the
market, soon very worried. Nearly six hours had passed since they had arrived
on Feyd and he knew that unless she was using a respirator she would by now be
in great danger. Luckily, her height and the deep red of her hair had made her
easy to describe and remember to the people he had asked. Some of the natives
had seen her wander off toward the distant vineyards.

Lying there, she seemed asleep, one arm
trailing in the water. The long hair had come loose, as brightly reflecting the
dappled sunlight as was the surface of the brook. Her usual, intent expression
was gone, replaced by a gentle smile that softened her features.

"Captain!" he called, more concerned
than annoyed by her lack of response. "I told you to stay nearby."

She raised her head, opening dilated eyes.
"It's so much prettier here."

Tychon knelt beside her. "What are
you..." He noticed traces of the shimmering powder on her robe and hair. “I
told you to stay away from the flowers!"

"You are always telling me things. Who
can keep track of them all?" She sank back and closed her eyes. "Wake
me when we get to Feyd."

He shook her arm. "Come now, back to
the ship."

She did not reply.

Tychon pulled the bottom of his shirt over
his face and inhaled deeply, several times, filtering the pollen-rich air
through the fine fabric before rolling her onto her back. Covering her mouth
with his, he forced his own breath into her lungs.

Nova opened unfocused eyes. "A strange
kiss to say hello," she murmured, smiling. Some of his hair had fallen
over her face and she touched it thoughtfully.

He cursed quietly, knowing that there was
humor in this somewhere and hoping that he'd find it pretty soon. He continued
to give her of his air, all too aware that her hand had dropped onto his thigh.

At last she squirmed away from him.
"Stop it! Enough!"

"Take your clothes off," he
breathed.

"Are you out of your mind?"

"You have spores all over
yourself." He pulled his own shirt over his head and tore one of the
sleeves from it. He ripped its seam and then tied the fabric around the lower
part of her face to fashion a filter of sorts. "Get rid of your blouse and
then get into the water. Wash that stuff out of your hair."

"I fell down back there," she
mumbled and followed his direction. While the water was not exactly cold, it
was still a relief to step into the brook.

Tychon sat on a rock and watched her
carefully, ready to come to her aid. But she was more conscious now, not about
to faint as she had seemed earlier. "Is that army issue?" he asked,
eyeing the thin shift that was all that covered her now.

Nova splashed him, then aimlessly paddled
her hands through the water lapping at her waist. "I bet if I sat down I'd
just float away," she said. "When do we get to Feyd?"

He sighed and stepped into the stream to push
her below the surface. The water felt wonderful and he let himself drop back to
soak his head. When Nova came up, gasping for air, the sheer material of her
shift had turned transparent. Tychon prayed to all of his gods until he was
sure that most of the poison had rinsed away. Finally, he pulled her out of the
creek and covered her in his shirt.

She swayed slightly on her feet but
remained upright. “You know, I always thought Delphians would be blue all
over,” she said vacantly. Her fingertips touched his chest. “But you’re not.
You just seem cold, Ty. Can I call you Ty, Major?” She watched her hand move
upward to touch a long strand of hair plastered to the smooth skin of his chest.

"Captain!" Tychon moved out of
her reach. "Damn!" He continued to swear while they made their way
back to the road into town.

“I don’t feel very good,” she said,
stumbling. Her feet seemed too big for the ends of her legs and kept getting in
the way as she tried to keep up with his long strides. He flagged down a
passing skimmer to take them back to the ship. Their damp attire caused more
than a few curious stares from the Feydan natives and their multi-planetary
guests.

Tychon half-carried her up along the
Eagle’s short cargo ramp and into the main cabin where he placed her onto the
lounger. She closed her eyes once he had fastened an oxygen mask over her face.

The xenobiologist at Feyd’s largest clinic
took an unnerving amount of time to be found. When she finally appeared on
Tychon’s screen she seemed to take some pleasure in instructing the Delphian
about managing his Human staff on Feyd. She glanced at the vital data that he
transmitted and assured him that the spores Nova had absorbed would soon be out
of her system. Her ability to use her neural interface would not be impaired.
Before also assuring him that the tab for her services would be sent directly
to Union administration, she forwarded a directive to have an additive to the
oxygen he was already giving Nova sent to the ship.

Relieved, Tychon closed the connection and
returned to where Nova lay sleeping. He watched her for a long while, recalling
the lovely sight of her wading in the stream. He shook his head and resolved to
drop in on a friend at their next destination. Until then a cold shower would
have to do.

This was a hopeful day on Shaddallam, quite
likely the day that would blast through this uneasy tension like the first
crash of lightning at the end of a summer's heat wave. Tharron's foul mood
would break, finally, although some of those gathered here doubted that it
would be for the better. The rankless officers of Tharron's inner guard
whispered among themselves, daring to speculate on what was about to happen.

They had cursed the day on which their
commander had learned of the legend. Since that day, he had focused all of his
attention and most of the few good agents he possessed on finding the truth of
the myth. While they had managed to carry on Tharron's smuggling and extortion
operations, no progress had been made in their fight against Union dominance.
They had lost their foothold on Aram for good this time and negotiations with
Feyd had stalled. The Targon scheme would surely end in disaster unless Tharron,
their figurehead, was there to turn their advice into orders.