Bloodhype (3 page)

She had a small suite. It was tastefully decorated, just extravagant enough to be in keeping with her supposed income. A well-stuffed conversation round was at one end of the greeting room, facing a broad ocean-view window. The being perched on it was the only thing out of place in the room.

That worthy stared back at her evenly. It . . . he . . . was just over a meter and a third in height. He looked remarkably like an oversized, portly raccoon. The major differences from the tiny terran mammal consisted of six long, dexterous fingers, more massive forearms, and a high, intelligent brow. There was no mask, the ears were sharply pointed and proportionately larger than the terran look-alike, and the rear feet were webbed.

It also possessed a biting tenor voice. This it used at her entrance, with practiced effect.

“Where the conceptualized clam excretement have you
BEEN?”

Kitten tossed her thighbag on a small table holding local magazines and a vase of dampish green flowers.

“Conceptualized clam excretement . . . I like that one, Pors. Your knowledge of arcane invective is always stimulating.” She walked across the room to the bedroom portal and peeked in. “I see, wonder of wonders, that my luggage arrived reasonably intact and together. Did you overtip the bellhop again?”

“I was not here at the time they were deposited. Doubtless they were transported by a mechanism.”

“On this planet, in this metropolis? Don’t bet on it.” She began undoing the long braid. “This place has all the feel of a world that could still make a profit on slave labor. Oh, stop trying to burn holes in me! I was late because one of the local playboys, convinced of his masculine irresistibility, attempted to abduct me. He had visions of performing odd things on my precious body.” The last gold band slid off and she shook her head, generating an obsidian waterfall at her back.

Porsupah said nothing, continued to stare at her. She reached over suddenly and tickled his nose. “Now, wouldn’t that have upset you?”

Porsupah sneezed, attempted to slap her hand, but she drew back too quickly. “I begin to think not.” She moved close again and tried to cuddle, stroking the fur on his spine.

Lieutenant Porsupah was tolerant, but being regarded as cuddlesome was one thing he couldn’t quite put up with.

“Have you no shame, woman! We’re not even of the same species!”

She ruffled his fur again. “You’d have a hard time, by now, convincing the hotel staff of that. Besides, you’re as mammalian as I.”

He couldn’t help a slight smile. “Not by several points.”

“Anyhow,” she whispered huskily, “we could manage a little something, you know . . .”

Porsupah gave a loud screech and scrambled behind the circular couch. “Kai-sung, you are irrevocably, utterly, spiritually indecent!”

“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me in four days.”

The Tolian recited several rapid and extremely potent native curses under his breath before he tried again.

“Major Orvenalix had to cancel a scheduled meeting between the three of us and Governor Washburn. At last word he was waiting in his office, steaming at the joints. I strongly suggest haste to arrange yourself properly so that we may be off before he sends the local constabulary to fetch us!”

“Oh, pooh!” She tumbled off the couch, thumbed a drink from the portabar. “I can handle the Major. Want something?”

“As you are well aware, none of the effects alcohol has on the Tolian system are in the least pleasurable. Fermented
Ropus
lymph, now—”

“Okay, have some of that, disgusting as it sounds.”

“I will not imbibe when late for assignment.”

“Foo. You’re worse than impossible. And stop worrying about Orvy-Dorvy. We’re old friends.”

“That may well be. The Major has an eye for a well-turned ovipositor. However, if I may so delicately point out, you are decidedly deficient in that area, however well compensated you may be in others. And I want to hear you call him ‘Orvy-Dorvy’.”

“Thanks . . . I think.” She sipped the pink and yellow liquid the machine had prepared. “Still, there’s a way of caressing the soft spot where thorax and b-thorax meet that—”

“Aghhhh!” The Tolian covered his eyes. “Disgusting, obscene, profane! No morals. No morality at all! If it were possible you would consider intercourse with a rock!”

“All right, all right, calm down! Listen, Pors, I’ve seen you with a few under your pouch, you sly tail-tickler, and you—”

“No more! Desist! Cease!”

“And stop throwing your fuzzy carcass all over the furniture or you’ll build up a charge that’ll shock the first diplomat you shake hands with two meters sunward! If you insist on throwing a fit, throw a stationary one.”

Porsupah tried a new tack. He ignored her while he rehearsed the explanation he would have to present to the Major. Ideas did not come rapidly to mind.

He was finally making some progress when his thoughts were scattered by a shrill, protesting voice from the nether depths of the bathroom.

“And I do
so
have morals!”

Outwardly a quiet, intense person, Major Orvenalix, the commander of Repler’s tiny military force, was capable of violent displays of emotion. These he kept private. It wouldn’t do for the members of Repler’s governing council to know to what extremes their stubbornness could push him. They also did not know that the peaceful commandant held an equal and much more impressive rank in the intelligence arm of the United Church.

Repler warranted an intelligence operative of Orvenalix’s stature because of the AAnn Imperial Enclave, several hundred kilometers to the south across open seas. The Enclave was the vestigial remnant of early altercations between the Commonwealth and the Empire over planetary claims. The AAnn hadn’t really wanted Repler, but it was a matter of self-respect that they dispute all territorial claims by other races.

Johann Repler’s claim eventually proved the strongest. The AAnn demanded, however, and were granted sovereignty over, a small area south of the eventual capital. This was done to speed colonization and to promote a harmonious settlement. Actually, the Commonwealth had argued against the idea, the Church had been noncommittal, and the humans and thranx already settled positively blasé. After all, the great majority of the planet was unexplored, and the AAnn could probably have established a secret station anyway. Why not be generous and give them one?

When the AAnn found out that they wouldn’t be allowed to use the interspace facilities at Repler City and that the largest island in their Enclave was insufficiently bedrocked to support a shuttle station of any size, they almost gave up the Enclave idea in disgust. But to refuse after having won the concession would have been twice as bad. It would have made the AAnn diplomats who had arranged the treaty look ridiculous. This would be fatal to certain parties. Those same parties made sure that an elaborate facility was constructed on the main land mass. At least the oceanologists, a group that most AAnn considered congenital idiots, were happy. The AAnn home world and most of its colonies were desert-type planets. Those assigned to the Repler station were, with the exception of the scientists, very unhappy reptiles.

Major Orvenalix sat in his thimble-shaped chair and stared across at Kitten and Porsupah. At the moment the Major was employing his mid-pair of limbs as a second set of hands. In imitation of a human habit, the thranx was tapping all four sets of claws on the table in front of him. The twelve digits made a considerable racket.

The Major was about average height for a mature male thranx, standing about midway between Kitten’s and Porsupah’s. His thorax was unusually broad and powerful. The black and silver harness reflected his occupation rather than personal tastes, which were less conservative. Also the result of his occupation was a premature purpling of the chiton, although his antennae were straight and strong. And the great compound eyes sparkled as brightly as those of any youth.

The tapping stopped. The resultant silence was louder. Orvenalix spoke quietly.

“Well! The magnificent, munificent Lieutenant Kai-sung has deigned to grace Operations with her presence!” The Major bowed ironically. That is, he inclined his head and b-thorax. Encased in bodies of unyielding armor, no thranx could manage a really smooth bow.

“Burn it, Orvy!”

“You will address me as becomes my rank, Lieutenant!” he roared, smacking the table hard with one truhand.

“Yes sir,” she replied in mock-military tones. “Major . . . Orvy.”

“YOU WILL . . .!” Orvenalix sighed and relaxed in his seat. “Never mind. I can see you haven’t changed one micron.”

“You’re the second person today who’s said that. Seriously, sir, what exactly is the situation? I haven’t seen you in over a year, but when you were lecturing at the Academy you were nowhere near this tense. You can’t tell me a year’s hitch, on a backwater planet has gotten to you that much!”

“You leave out many ramifications of which you remain uninformed, Kitten. However, before we go into
my
problems, consider this. You were ordered here for an assignment which required that you remain mildly active and controversial.
Mildly.
A moderately wealthy young lady, independent, spoiled, and apt to stick her nose into anything hinting of new thrills. Here to enjoy the delightful sun, fun, boating, fishing, and cheap souvenirs of exotic Repler.”

“You sound like a travel brochure, Major.”

“In my public capacity such banalities are occasionally called for. My nest-mother would be ashamed, but fortunately Eurmet is many parsecs away . . .

“Instead of making a nice, smooth arrival, you forthwith take off, in full sight of a busy shuttleport crowd, with the most notorious, spoiled young human this backwater capital has to offer. He may not be in the same class with his counterparts on Armela, Trix, or Perth, but around here he is noticed. You next turn up at the family estate-lodge in the most exclusive section of the capital and turn over the keys of this young man’s expensive hoveraft to the chap’s valet—his talkative valet. You order a public transule and take leave of this bemused servitor, off-handedly mentioning that his master may be found languishing by his lonesome on an island at such and such coordinates. Whereupon you return to the city and breeze into your hotel, blissfully certain, I suppose, that you have performed all this while leaving the general population in total ignorance.”

Kitten appeared genuinely contrite. “I apologize, sir. How would I know the valet would spread it all over town? I didn’t even realize who he was until the conversation had passed the point of no return. I’d planned to slip the keys under the door with a note explaining that . . .”

She broke off. Orvenalix shook his head in disgust. “It all would have been so much simpler—not to mention better for your cover—if you’d merely gone along with the gentleman, performed the simple act of non-reproductive copulation with him, and allowed him to escort you back to the hotel.”

“It is stated categorically,” said Kitten, “that the Egg which gorges itself too early will deny its offspring.”

“You are being impertinent, but if he was
that
bad . . . You always were up on your Saduriquil, soft-angles.”

“Why Orvy! You still remember my pet name! Now that you’ve gotten all that off your thorax, why not relax and tell us why we’ve been pulled off our post-graduate work and plunked down here in the midst of savage pisces and piscean savages?”

“The good Governor would not care-for-that-tone,” Orvenalix grinned.

“Say, how did you know I was doing post-grad work?” yelped Porsupah.

“I picked your pocket back at the hotel. Before I went in to change. Your school relief notice was in there, along with relevant material. Hardly consistent with
your
cover, Pors! Tch!”

“Not only morals!” said the seething Tolian. “No scruples, either!”

“That’s an insult! I put the wallet back, didn’t I?”

There was a long silence. Finally, unable to stand the suspense, Porsupah put a paw into the pouch under his belt to make sure . . . .

Orvenalix put a truhand over his mouth to cover the slight fluttering of mandibles that signified laughter among the thranx.

“All right,” the intelligence officer said. “Let us observe. Repler is backward in many ways, sure. It has a limited population, true. But its shuttle and spacecom facilities are modern and well-manned—very true. Major industries are tourism and exotic woods, but the main income is derived from Repler City’s use as a busy transfer point for interstellar shipping. It’s the only habitable planet between Fluva and Praxiteles as you drive down the Arm. And it’s still fairly close to the center-ward systems.”

“A good place to trade around,” agreed Porsupah.

“While also avoiding major tariffs on planets of destination. True. Nothing like the business Terra, Hivehom, or Drallar do, of course. But the merchants here make a good living, and business is growing steadily if not spectacularly.”

“I’ve read the manual,” Kitten said drily.

“Fine! Good!” Orvenalix reached into a drawer and removed a small vial of glass . . . no, quartz . . . with a pressure lock twice as big as the container, and a small bit of black board. Kitten and Porsupah slid their chairs closer.

Orvenalix keyed the lock and sprinkled, very carefully, a few grains of white crystal onto the board.

“Since you’ve both, presumably, ‘read the manual,’ perhaps you can tell me what this is?” Both junior officers leaned forward.

The Tolian sniffed once, gently. “Odorless. Clear, rhombohedric crystals with a glassy luster.” The Tolian crushed one of the largest pieces to powder in a sharp, trimmed claw. He sniffed again, careful not to inhale the dust. “Concoidal fracture, no odor released on pulverizing . . . yes, I think I know what it is, Major.” He turned and looked at Kitten. “The lines of fracture turn blue, they turn blue.”

Her eyes widened; and she couldn’t help but whisper when she spoke to Orvenalix. “Bloodhype. Very high grade, too, if the fracture line turns that dark.”

The antennae dipped slightly. “Almost pure. Also known as jaster, brain-up, phinto, silly-salt, and many other names the mere mention of which are sufficient to inspire thoughts of regurgitation among intelligent, feeling beings.”