Episode Fifteen: The Martian Fox

When Zander laughed, his eyes flashed like a Martian fox during mating season. Murray leaned her chin against her palm and watched him take another drink. He tipped his whole head back, swallowed twice and came back down grinning.

“Iggy throws a good party,” he said. “But I’m not usually this intrigued by his choice in guests.” He inclined his head in her direction.

“Iggy?” Murray blinked and widened her eyes. “You mean the Emperor?”

“Right. The…” Zander made quotations with the fingers of his free hand. “‘Emperor’ is my cousin.”

“Then shouldn’t you be at the head of the table?” Rook’s voice sounded more metallic than normal. “If you’re a member of the royal family.”

Zander stared at the android, then shrugged and focused his attention back on Murray, favoring her with the lop-sided grin that seemed to be second nature. “Yeah, well Iggy’s little freak show here is something of a family secret, if you know what I mean.”

“I’m not sure I entirely understand,” she said. “We’ve only just arrived, and I’m not familiar with…”

“Let me tell you all about it over drinks.” He interrupted her, but something about the way he leaned forward--the smile again--made her forget to be offended.

“I’m afraid that Doctor Murray and I have an appointment after dinner,” Rook said.

One of Zander’s eyebrows rose a tad higher than its partner.

“I’m sorry,” Murray said. “It’s just…”

“Maintenance,” Rook said.

“Maintenance,” she said. “Sorry. Maybe if you’re free later?”

“Tragically,” Zander said. “I have an early departure tomorrow. Can’t you just program it to wait for us?”

“Excuse me?”

“Rook.” Murray placed a hand on the metal fist before it rose above the tabletop and into view. “Maybe we can reschedule?” She gave him a look, tried to communicate with her eyes, to tell him that they couldn’t afford to miss a chance at this kind of information.

Whatever her theories about his abilities, she scratched telepathic right off the list. His chest whirred at a pitch she immediately labeled: pissed off. When he spoke, any doubt about the diagnosis vanished.

“Would you like to program me to wait?” He said. He might not be psychic, but sarcasm he could manage in spades.

“Rook,” Murray tried the eye thing again. “I just think it’s a good idea…”

Zander pushed his chair back and stood up from the table. Murray looked between them—her mysterious, severely annoyed android and the dashing, over-confident spacer. She wasn’t designed to handle this. She belonged in a lab. This sort of thing only happened to people like, people like…

“Zora,” she said. She ignored Zander’s outstretched hand long enough to turn and whisper to the android. “She’s not acting right, Rook. I think one of us should keep an eye on her.”

His eyes flickered, looked over her shoulder to where her sister sat, still staring at Ignatius the First. Zora trite and silent definitely registered high on the weirdness radar. The hostile whirring stopped, but his voice still came out in a less than friendly tone.

“Agreed,” he said.

“Thank you.” She almost relaxed, nearly let the guilt wash away completely when he whispered.

“I’m more than happy to spend the evening with Zora.”

“Good. Wait…”

“Excellent!” Zander snagged her hand across the table and lifted it over the other diners’ heads. “Shall we?” He tugged her in the direction of the door.

“But…” Murray took a step along the table, her arm held aloft in Zander’s grip. She dodged out around Rook, tried to catch his expression, but he refused to look up as she passed. “But.”

“Come on, Doctor,” Zander called across the top of two Reptilian diners. “Let’s blow this party.”

Murray couldn’t continue to crane over her shoulder without risking a collision with one of the still-politely-seated guests. She tiptoed and stretched her arm enough to swing around each chair as Zander followed the curve of the table toward the main doorways. When they finally reached a gap in the diners, he stepped up and across the table to her side without missing a beat.

“Better,” he said, oblivious to any social faux pas involved. “After you, my dear.” He bowed a fraction and swept his free arm toward the exit.

Murray felt the heat in her cheeks, the subtle shiver along her spine, and blamed the wine. She needed fresh air. She needed some information on Emperor Ignatius Superious I. As she left the dining room, and Zander’s thumb traced a soft circle over her palm, she set her jaw against her body’s reaction. Fresh air, information--she chanted silently—the only things she needed.

*

“I haven’t done this since college,” Murray said. She leaned back into a pile of pillows and sighed.

“Try this one.” Zander slid a new cartridge into the vaporizer on the table between them. He pressed the atomizer button and the glass petals glowed blue and purple.

Murray slid the mouthpiece of her line between her lips and inhaled the scent. “Chocolate?” she asked. “And something floral.”

“Good.” Zander nodded while he inhaled from his own line. When he’d exhaled the excess vapor he waved the pipe approvingly. “It’s desert lavender,” he said.

Murray took another, longer drag of vapors. They lounged in a circular recession in the center of his quarters. Stacks of pillows surrounded the small table where the glass vaporizer rested. Its body mimicked the floral motif, with translucent petals that glowed brighter as the user inhaled.

“So tell me,” Zander said. “How did a nice doctor like you end up in a place like this?”

“We crash landed,” Murray said. She propped herself up on one elbow and tried to keep her voice casual. “What did your cousin do before he became Emperor?”

“Iggy?” Zander shrugged. “He did a lot of field work. The man’s a brilliant bio-engineer.” He reached under the table and pulled out another cartridge. “Wait a minute,” he waved it in the air, “you aren’t the ones who showed up with a Space Slug in tow?”

“I’m afraid so.” Murray watched him slip the cartridge in the secondary lot. “What’s that one?”

“Flavor booster.”

“Hmmm. Well…” She focused on the task at hand. “How did he end up with the clones?” She inhaled the new mix and felt a whisper of the secondary aroma…unfamiliar, but pleasant.

“He bought them,” Zander said. “What do you know about them?”

“Nothing,” Murray said. “My sister thinks they are fashion savants, but…”

“Space Slugs,” Zander interrupted. His eyes flashed in amusement. “What do you know about the slug?”

“Almost nothing.” Murray shrugged and took another drag. “This is good. Why would he buy a planet full of clones?”

“Who knows with Iggy,” Zander set down his line and leaned forward. He picked up her free hand and ran a finger across the palm. “Maybe to go with his collection.”

“His…huh?” Murray felt a tremor of nerves as he turned her hand over and stroked the back. “I think she’s the last one—the slug,” she said. “Neela.”

“Haven’t you met my cousin’s collection of alien slave girls? His wives?”

“They’re slaves?” She knew it. She’d smelled a rat the minute that Emperor said ‘hello.’

“Hello?” Zander’s voice broke her concentration. She looked up and frowned. He looked a bit fuzzy around the edges.

“Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t put much study into extinct species. My specialty is macro-plank…macro-platy, planktoi…planktons.” Her tongue twisted around the familiar term.

“Oh they’re not extinct,” he said. His face seemed closer, larger than it had a moment ago.

“Obviously not,” she said. “We have the last one.”

He shook his head, and the movement left tracers in the air. Murray could see dozens of after images hanging to either side of his strong jaw.

“Wow,” she said.

“Actually…” Zander’s eyes flashed again, and this time Murray could see sparks of fire surrounding them. A fox. A Martian fox. “You don’t,” he said.

“Don’t what?” She reached out and passed her hand through one of his faces.

“Don’t have the last one,” he whispered.

“Huh,” Murray said. “That is so weird.”

Next Episode ◦

Episode Fifteen: The Martian Fox

Episode Fourteen: Dinner Guests

“Doctor Murray?”

Murray looked over her shoulder and smiled as the robot approached. She waited with Zora outside the palace dining hall, watching through the open doors as the press of alien guests jostled for position at the emperor’s table.”

“How did it go?” she asked him.

“Interesting.” He shrugged. “The Emperor hosts as many ships as a small space port. I’ve located the central power generators, the waste elimination facilities,shields, manufacturing and housing sectors in this quarter of the city.”

“Anything unusual?”

“Not in our immediate vicinity.” He looked past her to the open dining hall. “Except perhaps a few of the guests.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Murray said. “How can he have this much traffic and not be listed?”

“Hey!” Zora pushed up close to Murray’s shoulder. “I think I know that guy,” she said, nodding toward a group of tentacled Bomorians.

“Well that explains it,” Murray said. “It’s that sort of crowd. I knew it.”

“You’re really judgmental, you know that?” Zora put her hands on her hips.

“Doctor Murray?”

“Yes, Rook?” Murray watched the Bomorians disappear into the dining room.

“You mentioned having a moment to talk.”

“Right.” She caught sight of Bob, or rather a Bob, working his way purposefully in their direction. “How about after dinner?”

“That is agreeable,” Rook said.

“Fine.”

The clone reached them, nodding and extending an arm in a sweeping gesture toward the crowded hall. Before Murray could decipher the motion, he’d spun around and headed into the fray. Zora took off after him without question, and Murray hurried through the doors behind her with Rook in tow.

Once they’d broken through the initial cluster of bodies hovering around the entrance, the way cleared enough for easier maneuvering. The room ran nearly as long as the emperor’s audience chamber, though not quite as wide. A single, immense table wound and twisted across the floor from one end to the other like a giant centipede. Hundreds of legs supported it.

“Bob” led them to a central curve of table, where three seats stood vacant and roped off from the crowd by a length of thin, golden cording.

“The emperor has reserved your seats, may he continue to shine his light upon us,” the clone said.

“Yeah, thanks.” Zora slid into the first seat he unwound. She folded her hands in her lap and stared toward the head of the table. From their position, it lay directly to the left and past two more contortions in the wide surface.

Murray sat and took in the sea of faces surrounding them. Because of the table’s unusual design, any way she turned provided a view of her fellow diners. Ignatius the First’s guests filled the room, and judging from the vast number of species present, the emperor was no more discriminating about his friends than he was about his wives.

“Doctor Murray?” Rook sat to her right and, the soft noises emanating from his chest
cavity suggested he covertly scanned the entire room. “I believe there are more than three hundred distinct species represented here.”

“I know,” she said. “I don’t know where to look first.”

“Allow me,” he said. “Across the way to your left there, three seats down from the Bomorians, you will find one of the rarer varieties of Teiron from the furthest sector in the…”

“Oltron galaxy,” Murray finished. “Oh my god.” She didn’t know if her scavenged handheld boasted a camera, but it did her little good either way. She’d left the unit on the bed in their quarters. Probably for the best--Murray doubted the guest Teirons would appreciate her capturing them on film for her travel journals. As it was, she found herself staring more than could possibly be considered polite.

“And over there,” Rook continued, offering her an intergalactic tour of the surrounding diners. He pointed out the rarer of the guests and made note of a few that might be considered “rowdier” than your usual galactic sampling. “Keep an eye on that group.” He pointed to a trio of short, furry humanoids four seats
past Zora on their left. “They are usually restricted to their home system.”

“Usually?”

“Gal-fed protocol doesn’t seem to function where the emperor is concerned,” Rook said.

“I’ve noticed.”

Zora leaned over suddenly and whispered in Murray’s ear. “Here he comes.”

“Who?” One look at Zora answered for her. “Right. And you’re not acting weird at all, Zor.”

She frowned at her sister. Zora’s hands lay twined together on the table in front of her. Her spine had straightened into a formal pose, and her head bowed. She stared into her lap, but Murray caught the sideways peeks she kept flipping toward the emperor’s high, sculpted seat. “How did you…”

Silence fell over the hall, and a pair of female clones approached the throne and stood like bookends on either side of it. A musical fanfare squealed through some hidden sound system, and the clone women pulled the chair away from the table. They spoke in unison with twin, musical voices that floated over the crowd.

“The Emperor Ignatius Superious I, may he rule in glory for all time.”

Murray watched the throne. She’d expected the emperor to make his entrance through the curtained opening behind the chair, but the faces around her all twisted toward the main doorway. She followed suit and caught a glimpse of Ignatius, weaving his way along the table. He smiled. He shook hands. He chatted and laughed, and worked his way slowly in their direction.

“I’ll be damned,” she said.

“I told you he was nice,” Zora whispered.

“Or very, very crafty,” Rook said.

Murray waited for Zora’s retort, but she’d reverted to silently staring at her hands. Murray scowled at her. If Zora abandoned her usual attention getting mannerisms, something big was up.

“Good evening!” Ignatius reached them at last. He placed a hand on Murray’s shoulder, rested the other on Rook’s. “How did you find your room, my friends? Comfortable?”

“The room is quite grand,” Murray said. “Thank you. I’m sure we’ll be more than comfortable.” Beside her, Rook’s chest whirred. She turned toward Zora at the same time Ignatius addressed her.

“And the lovely Zora? Have you everything you need, my dear?”

“Yes, thank you.” Zora looked up long enough to smile briefly at the emperor before dropping her gaze again. A soft blush crept over her cheeks.

Murray’s mouth fell open. She couldn’t help it. Zora didn’t play shy, and Murray had no idea she’d been capable of blushing.

“Good, good,” the emperor said. “I look forward to talking more, but I’m afraid my poor guests are anxious to begin the meal.” He grinned at each of them, removed his hands and continued his progress toward the throne.

“Very crafty,” Rook said.

“Agreed.” Murray watched Zora watch Ignatius take his seat. “It’s starting to creep me out,” she said.

Zora failed to retort. In fact, she failed to notice the exchange completely. She stared at the emperor and said absolutely nothing. A shiver crawled up Murray’s spine.

When the chair opposite her scraped away from the table, she hardly heard it. It took a voice to pull her attention away from her sister—a sultry, silky, masculine voice. Something about the tone reached into her nervous system and swiveled her head back around to face it.

“You in there?” The voice asked. It came from a lopsided grin that hovered just below the most dazzling pair of eyes. Murray blinked, and the attached face came into focus.

He had a strong jaw, dark hair that said, “I’m way to cool to care,” and the cocky, bullshit aura of a man who spent most of his time in hyper-space. He appeared to be addressing her, but Murray tossed a quick glance back at Zora just to be sure. Her sister still focused on the head of the table, completely missing the tall, muscle bound bundle of testosterone sitting inches from her.

For his part, the spacer kept his attention riveted on Murray. He nodded at her and the grin stretched even wider. Murray gave the man a tense smile and nodded back. Had the whole universe gone completely wonky, or was it just her?

“Hi,” the spacer said.

“Hi!” Rook said. He took the man’s hand and shook it until the table rattled.

Next Episode ◦

Episode Fourteen: Dinner Guests