Flower-of-Sands_The Extraordinary Adventures of a Female Astronaut Page 11

She wondered why they had not used the room’s booth before, instead of marching her through the crowded open-plan office area. Obviously, it was a tactic to make her uneasy. She was angry, but said nothing.

  She emerged from the teleport network close to the observation tower. She needed to speak to Astral-La who was not available through her implant. This probably meant she was meditating or asleep.

  Entering the tower, she made her way to the main chamber, which was in semi-darkness and silent. The panoramic window opened out into a view of Liberty Primary. She stood at the back and scanned the rows of people. Gradually her eyes adjusted to the dim light, but she could not see Astral-La anywhere.

  Stepping out into a long wide corridor, she tried another implant connection. No response. She then went to the refreshment area, but still there was no sign of her friend.

  Groaning with frustration, she decided to take a swim and relax. She needed the exercise and swam vigorously. There was no sign of Astral-La at the pool or any subsidiary pools or refreshment outlets.

  After her swim, she had a drink at a fruit stall and then teleported to Astral-La’s apartment and passed her hand several times over the visitor’s icon on the door. No response.

  A thought occurred to her. Perhaps she was hanging out with Edge. The obvious place to look was the Spectrum, or the refreshment areas near the club.

  Arriving at the Spectrum Club, she scoped out all the food and drink outlets in the vicinity. Nothing.

  Feeling tired, let down, and by now slightly worried, she walked into the Spectrum Club’s lobby. Everywhere was glass and shifting light. Two attractive androids processed her with various scans. Seductive music followed her thoughts. ‘I’m not here for pleasure, I’m here to find someone,’ she told the assistants who calmly humoured her. Suddenly, she was floating close to a nebula, pursued by exotic and fragrant space spores. Mind-altering substances moved around like herds of migrating animals. Fluffy balls, flowers, and edible crystals passed by her, all enticing, all pleading to be eaten.

  She resisted and plunged through the nebula into an ocean populated by mermaids and sentient plants. Determined, she passed through the ocean and arrived onto a spacious, sunlit beach. People walked on white sand and shone gloriously from within. She felt an almost overwhelming urge to just be there and space out. The air was vibrant, coloured, enfolding. She tried to resist, but it was impossible. Sweetness coursed through her veins. Somehow, inadvertently, she had ingested something that the club’s AI had tailored to her biological and psychic needs. She imagined Edge mixing potions for her whilst lounging behind a control panel. But that wouldn’t happen. Or would it? She decided to be angry with the club, but she found it funny. After all, she had come here of her own volition. If she did not want what was happening to her, she should not have come. This made her laugh and she sank down beside Edge. He passed her a drink that was filled with fruit and golden ice. Silver bubbles floated from it. A violet hued silken gown undressed her, glided over her nakedness, exquisitely stroked her all over. She collapsed on the sand, moaning with pleasure. Edge laughed. His friends became her friends. She was kissing everyone.

  She stood in a green-gold garden, close to a forest. The air intoned bird song. Sun embraced her face. Edge turned to her. ‘Why are we here?’ she asked.

  Inside the forest, they passed perfumed trees heavy with fruit. Everything spoke to her. She lay down beside a brook. Edge lay with her. They made love and suddenly an eternal summer afternoon was her captor. Entranced, she gazed into the deep blue of sky and wanted for nothing. Afterwards, she lay in Edge’s arms looking up at clouds. ‘Where is Astral-la?’ she asked.

  Much later, she was reclining in an antechamber. All around her people were recovering from their respective Spectrum experience. A few were thoughtful, most light hearted and jocular. Within a cluster of bodies and laughter, Edge ruled supreme, encircled by fans, and tireless in his banter. He waved over to her.

  She hoisted herself free from her comfortable couch and went over to him. ‘Have you seen Astral?’ Edge shook his head solemnly and asked his cohort if they had seen her. Nobody had.

  ‘Did you enjoy your experience?’ Edge asked her lightly.

  ‘I suppose I did. But I had not intended to. I came looking for Astral.’

  ‘You can’t come here and not get caught by the AI’s wicked intentions. Did they not warn you, when you gained access?’

  ‘Yes, but I thought I could resist.’

  ‘No way can that happen,’ Edge laughed. ‘When you come here, abandon all hope of resistance to fun. Let go and let the AI, that’s what I say.’ Edge thought this very funny and, encouraged by his doting fans, roared with laughter.

  She found leaving the Spectrum a little more complicated than she expected. A benevolent assistant guided her through a series of scans and through an air shower. Cheerfully, the assistant gave her a drink, insisting that she drink all of it. She complied, closed her eyes, and realized that she was outside the club, thoroughly refreshed without a trace of residue from her experience. Except that, she was still seeking Astral-La.

  That was a puzzle. She found a balcony and gazed through a labyrinth of steel at the home planet. Who was this woman who was so gifted and who excited her in such a mysterious way? Could she be involved in the theft of the valves?

  Of all the people, Astral-La was the one with the skills to pull off a heist of such an extraordinary nature. But why would she do such a thing? Clayton had promised her the valves. Admittedly, Clayton had an odd attitude to the entire intergalactic project. But would he deny his favourite niece her wish? Perhaps he would. Perhaps he was so against the project that he would be willing to steal the valves himself. She thought, the only one with a real motive for stealing the valves was Clayton. The whole thing is so peculiar, she thought, so very peculiar.

  Meanwhile, she was unable to find Astral-La. Tired of searching, she found the Marleeseen refreshment bay where she and Astral-La had been so abruptly interrupted by the two detectives. A large crowd of tourist had gathered in the bay, but she found a quiet spot where she could gather her thoughts. A Marleeseen quickly served her with a special brew of the day, which she knew from experience would be mildly elevating. She needed it, as events had taken an unfortunate turn. The valves were missing, the detectives were questioning her and saw her as a suspect, and her new friend, Astral-La, had vanished. If the Marleeseen special did not raise her mood, nothing would.

  A transportation cradle pulled up beside the refreshment bay and a soothing female voice requested that she board. A few minutes later, she was back in the conference room facing the detectives and a group of station administrators that included Clayton who looked tense and suspicious. If he was the one who had taken the valves, she thought, he was making an excellent job of hiding it.

  Dangelo began speaking, his voice still too high, and grating on her nerves. ‘We have conducted several scans on your person, including a neuro-scan, and conclude that you are telling the truth, or at least that you believe that what you are telling us is the truth.’

  Flower-of-Sands was outraged. ‘Really, you scan me without my permission. This is not Earth in the 21st century. I object to this violation of my privacy, something that is supposed to be totally out of keeping with our society.’

  ‘The situation requires that we suspend the usual social customs,’ Arlo responded sternly. ‘Anyway, you are being scanned all the time in the society. Take the Spectrum club for example.’

  ‘Yes, but I gave my permission by implication when I stepped inside the club.’

  ‘We are wasting time,’ Clayton interjected. ‘There have been developments, Flower-of-Sands. Frankly, the detectives here do not believe that you stole the valves.’

  ‘We also think it unlikely that you are conspiring with another party.’

  ‘Unlikely?’ She was incredulous. ‘I have nothing to gain by the loss of the valves. I need them to travel to the Great Wheel.’

  ‘The
re has been a development,’ Arlo said. ‘Your friend Astral-La has disappeared. There is no trace of her on or off station.’ He leant towards her, his eyes fixed on her like a vice. ‘What do you know about her? What is it that you are not telling us?’

  She was silent, her face set in conflict.

  ‘This is no time to play games,’ Arlo said. ‘We all want what is best for Astral-La. You are keeping something from us. It is important that you tell us what you know.’

  Still conflicted, Flower-of-Sands found it difficult to speak.

  ‘I do know something,’ she said finally, ‘but I promised her that I would say nothing. It’s personal, and I gave my word.’

  ‘Please tell us,’ Clayton said, his voice filled with concern. ‘The situation is extremely serious and allows you to break your promise. She has vanished. There is no holo or teleport booth trace of her. People do not disappear in our world. For someone to do so is a harbinger of a return to crime.’

  ‘What is it you know?’ Arlo insisted.

  Reluctantly, Flower-of-Sands began to speak. ‘As Clayton would have already told all of you, Astral is telepathic and has the ability to converse inwardly with people without the aid of implant technology; she can read thoughts.’ Everyone present nodded. ‘What only some of you know is that she has the power of telekinesis. She can move and lift objects with the power of her mind.’

  The room was silent. Clayton exhaled with resignation.

  ‘But there is more,’ Flower-of-Sands continued. The room stirred uneasily. ‘She also has the power of teleportation. She can jump, without the aid of a booth, anywhere.’ All present exchanged looks of astonishment.

  ‘Did she demonstrate this ability to you?’ Clayton’s voice was shaky.

  ‘She did, but there is more.’ Her audience braced themselves for another shock. ‘She can jump others with her. We jumped together, all over the station without the aid of a booth.’

  ‘That is truly astonishing,’ Dangelo said. ‘Could she jump off the station, to the home planet or the moon, or another space station?’

  ‘Possibly, yes. It is also possible that she did not tell me the extent of her abilities, that she withheld some aspects from me.’

  ‘Jumping off the station would involve considerable internal technology. The number of calculations involved would be phenomenal.’ Clayton spoke thoughtfully.

  ‘Where would she go?’ Dangelo asked Flower-of-Sands, his tone more respectful, as if he were addressing a colleague.

  ‘It’s just a hunch, but she might have gone to the Marleeseen planet. She loves it there.’

  ‘But is that possible?’ Clayton’s question was rhetorical. ‘To jump to another system is fantastic. I don’t believe that she could do that.’

  ‘Maybe not,’ one of Clayton’s assistants interjected. ‘But there is no trace of her leaving the station. She has left no imprint of her departure. She has simply vanished.’

  ‘As if by magic,’ Flower-of-Sands said softly.

  ‘We need to visit the Marleeseen planet,’ Arlo said briskly.

  Clayton nodded, but the assistant spoke up. She was young, fresh looking, with clear, perspicacious eyes, and fair hair falling slightly across her face. ‘I have studied the Marleeseen and I have been to their planet many times on diplomatic tours. If I may observe, respectfully, it is unlikely that the Marleeseen would permit Arlo and Dangelo access, or, at least, they could cause a significant hold up.’

  ‘We would insist,’ Arlo said.

  ‘That is just my point. Sir?’ She looked towards Clayton for permission to continue. Clayton nodded and she continued. ‘The Marleeseen do not like insistence and would interpret it as hostility. They would take intrinsically harmless, but effective, and embarrassing countermeasures.’

  ‘But we are trained to deal with things of that nature.’ Dangelo voice was even higher than usual.

  ‘You don’t want to find yourselves on the wrong end of a Marleeseen love dart.’ Flower-of-Sands could not help the thought of Arlo and Dangelo expressing eternal love for one another; she began to laugh.

  ‘Enough,’ Arlo said. He looked across at the young Marleeseen expert. ‘What do you suggest?’

  ‘I suggest a diplomatic approach, especially as the mission would have as its goal the apprehension of Astral-La. Apprehending someone against their will is outside the Marleeseen remit.’

  They were wasting time, Arlo felt. ‘Okay, so what is your alternative?’

  ‘I’ll go,’ Flower-of-Sands said. Everyone, except the outspoken assistant, looked surprised.

  ‘I can go with her,’ the assistant said hastily.

  ‘A rather unusual idea, but it could work,’ Clayton said after a pause. ‘There are currently no scheduled flights to Paradise, the Marleeseen world. But my department can make a ship available. You will need a pilot.’ He addressed the fair-haired assistant. ‘Faithe, you and Flower-of-Sands need to discuss a basic strategy for connecting with Astral-La, if she is indeed on the Marleeseen planet. It may be a difficult procedure – the Marleeseen being the Marleeseen. Meanwhile, I will search around for a suitable pilot.’

  ‘I know one, if he will agree.’ Faithe looked bright and eager.

  ‘Who?’ Flower-of-Sands asked.

  ‘Someone you know, I believe. Edge.’

  Flower-of-Sands was speechless, but Clayton interjected immediately.

  ‘Impossible! The man is a total waster, a playboy of the highest order. It would be suicidal to have him anywhere near the mission.’

  ‘He is an excellent pilot who has my complete endorsement.’ Faithe looked to Flower-of-Sands for support.

  ‘He is an able person.’ Flower-of-Sands somewhat reluctantly came to Faithe’s rescue. ‘But I would never see him as a pilot, except for “inner space” in the Spectrum.’

  ‘That’s just his reputation,’ Faithe said. ‘It’s an act. Underneath that, he is an extremely effective person. I can vouch for him – if we can sober him up.’

  ‘That is a big if.’ Flower-of-Sands spoke with the irony of experience.

  ‘Please,’ Faithe said. ‘I will take full responsibility.’

  ‘I need to interview him before I make a decision.’

  Faithe smiled warmly. ‘Of course, we will make sure he is prepared, sir, I promise you.’

  ‘He needs to be sober and willing to submit to a rigorous physical fitness examination. I will not allow a debauchee to gallivant around the galaxy in one of my ships.’

  ‘And do we contact the Marleeseen in advance?’ Flower-of-Sands asked.

  ‘That’s not possible,’ Faithe said. ‘The Marleeseen are telepathic on their planet, and mostly converse telepathically. Basically, they are not contactable by the rest of the universe.’

  ‘Holy Mother,’ Flower-of-Sands muttered to herself in English.

  Everybody looked to Arlo and Dangelo for final confirmation. The detectives nodded to each other and to those present, indicating that all was well and that they had drawn a line under the matter.

  Smiling, Faithe rose and held out her hand to Flower-of-Sands. ‘I’m looking forward to travelling with you,’ she said warmly.

  Chapter 11

  Edge sprawled across two seats, his eyes far away, his lips curved in what Flower-of-Sands could only describe as a stupid smile. A cohort of young men and women, all in a similar condition, encircled him. Unexpectedly, she had had trouble tracking him down. The Spectrum club had been unhelpful and would not confirm his presence or absence from its deep, unpredictable recesses. He was not in the adjacent restaurants, the swimming pools, the observation towers, and no person or organization had listed him in any recreational space activities – not that she had ever known him to be involved in any recreational space activity, and viewed his reputation in this area as a myth. Eventually, she found him in post party state in the very Marleeseen restaurant where Arlo and Dangelo had interrupted her and Astral-La.

  ‘Did Clayton contact you?’ She felt as if she w
as addressing a life form with an exceptionally low metabolic rate.

  His words were unexpectedly precise, considering his condition. ‘Faithe told me. I am not interested.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Why go to Paradise when I can sit here and bask in a Marleeseen atmosphere, drink their wine, and sip their highly potent teas.’

  His friends laughed and cooed agreement.

  ‘But we are searching for Astral-La. She has disappeared.’

  ‘Astral can take care of herself.’

  ‘But they think that she might have stolen the Shiloramedel-drives.’

  ‘Good for her.’

  Frustration had become such a companion to Flower-of-Sands that she hardly noticed it anymore, mistaking it for a natural background to life. Now, it was building into an anger that demanded action.

  Edge smiled at her beatifically and made to turn away. Still strangely precise in delivery, he began a sentence. ‘Faithe said that you would not be happy and …’

  He got no further. Flower-of-Sands hooked her right foot around one of the legs of the chair that supported his head and torso and pulled violently. He sprawled onto the floor, spilling a collection of wines and magic teas, and waking his fans from their blissful half-slumber.

  She grabbed the other chair and pulled, allowing him to engage fully with the floor. Glasses, vases, wine, tea, and a general assortment of Marleeseen cookies covered him. His friends – now fully awake and on their feet – were amazed, excited, and hungry for more entertainment; astonished Marleeseen fluttered about to clear up and placate the situation. People gathered around and formed an audience that was witnessing something unheard of in Liberty society: violence.

  There was more to come. Edge leapt to his feet and attacked. Strictly speaking, it was not an attack but a half-hearted attempt to subdue her and talk her down from her abject fury. It might have been an act of heroism had he been aware that in the distant past, before her visit to Earth, Flower-of-Sands had been a pupil of the renowned martial artist Invisible Fist and had perfected a fighting technique called Sleight of Hand; appearing disorganized and incompetent, she was accurate and deadly, and effortlessly overcame her opponents.