Quest For Earth (24 page)

The city was under strict surveillance. Why?

Suddenly, she was determined to get inside the archive building.
Maybe a back entrance.
Her stride quickened. No one built a dwelling without another avenue of escape. She shivered as she passed into the shadows cast by the building.

Her nape tingled. She reached the next corner and stopped before the pole. Another black vid-cam was bolted to the top. She pretended to study the map as she slid a glance in both directions.

There.

Four buildings down on her port side, there was a movement in a doorway, as if someone was pressed against the wall. She was being followed. Her heartbeat kicked into second gear.

Bree? No, she would have hailed her. Neither would it be one of their crew members, for they also would have greeted her. She stared into the shadows for another secton, no more, just long enough for her to recognise a man's silhouette.

Security—alerted by her furtive movements in front of the archive building? Sherise hastened down one narrow lane, then another. Not bothering to check her co-ordinates, she was anxious to put as much distance as possible between her and whoever it was that dogged her footsteps. A quick glance behind showed the area to be clear. Relief flooded her. She pressed a hand against her heaving breasts, took a step forward and tripped over something laying on the ground. Pain twinged up her leg. Bending to rub her still sore ankle, she noticed a rag effigy next to her foot. With its woollen yellow hair, clothed in a white tunic, it resembled a figurine of a child. Sherise picked it up, turning it over in her hands. The back was scorched black by fire. When she held it close and sniffed, the acrid smell stung her nostrils.

Burnt recently.

By who? Could it have been used in a ritual of some kind? She wished Bree was with her. Her friend could always be relied upon to offer imaginative suggestions. Or, perhaps it was merely the possession of a young girl who had thrown it away, tired of her toy. But what child burns her playthings?

Footsteps.

Sherise tilted her head to the side and concentrated. Faint, but the sound was quite distinct in the quiet streets.

Militia?

She ran to the end of the lane, the doll clutched tight in her hand. Ahead she saw a wide open space of concrete, empty of people but studded with boxes in which white flowers bloomed. On the opposite side stood a temple.

It could not be anything else.

With a domed roof and many white pillars supporting a large portico, it shone stark in the bright sunlight. Sherise shaded her eyes and squinted. The doors were open.

Within sectons she had crossed the space, passed into the striped shadows cast by the jungle of pillars and then crossed the threshold into the foyer. Wide double doors opened to reveal a large rectangular hall lit only by candles, full to bursting with kneeling people, their heads bowed. Silence hung thick in the air. This explained the lack of activity on the streets outside.

A winding staircase rose to the levels above on both sides of the foyer. Beneath each staircase were doors bolted shut, the candlelight glinting off metal padlocks. And in every strategic corner were vid-cams attached to the walls.

Stay, or try to elude her hunter in the streets? Sherise chewed her lower lip.

‘Peace, my friend,' intoned a quiet voice.

On the lower steps of one of the staircases stood a mature woman, clad in long white robes with her arms folded across her chest within her long sleeves. The woman smiled a welcome. Lines crinkled about the corners of the eyes of a face not beautiful, but sharp, with well-defined bones and smooth pale skin. The woman's light brown hair was streaked with white and cut short, feathered to frame her face and long neck. With her eyes lowered, head slightly bowed, she gave the appearance of a humble, self-effacing woman, eager to please.

Sherise returned the smile in full measure and inclined her head. She indicated the worshipers. ‘Forgive me, if I have intruded.'

The other accepted the apology with a faint flicker of eye lashes, her lips remaining curved.

Sherise raised her brows. Not the action of a woman of low status.

‘You are of the Star People.'

Sherise murmured an assent and the other continued in a low reflective tone as if speaking to herself, ‘Odd. I do not perceive anything special about your person.'

Good, then you cannot see who I really am.

‘I am merely one of many.'

Perfect white teeth were revealed in a wide smile, as if she found Sherise's response amusing. ‘Now why do I doubt your words?' The woman changed the subject with smooth precision. ‘You find our temple to your liking?'

‘It is lovely, but cold.'

‘This is true. However, I believe you would find peace in our rituals. Why not stay awhile? There are many women who have given their lives to the Order of the Pure. You would be most welcome.'

‘I thank you for the offer. I will consult with our Commander and consider your words,' said Sherise.

The priestess laughed and the sound grated over Sherise like the scratching of claws on flexiglass.

‘I see you have returned an offering to our temple.' The woman stepped off the staircase, crossed the floor and grasped the doll, tugging it free from Sherise's grip. ‘This is most gracious of you.'

Offering? So they did burn effigies.
A pagan ritual long outlawed in the Seven Galaxies.

‘Would you care to look further?' The woman took a step backward, her arms fell to her sides and she indicated the closest staircase. ‘The ritual of silent communion with our gods is under way, but I can show you the first floor foyer. There are many paintings and sculptures which you may find interesting.'

‘Thank you. I am called Sherise.' Better to keep her full title to herself for a while longer.

The woman raised her head and met her eyes. The cool assessment Sherise read in their pale-blue depths chilled her flesh.

‘High Priestess and I am addressed only as ma'am.'

Heat flamed over her cheekbones as Sherise followed the priestess up the stairs, but she forgot her discomfort as soon as she stood in the reception area above. Here, a mixture of paintings and sculptures of great antiquity and constantly changing holograms dominated the white room. All showed various poses of animals and men writhing in agony on the ground, pinned down by an enormous foot with three clawed toes. The pictures were graphic, with displays of lurid violence portrayed in black and white and only the splashes of bright, red blood relieving the bleak scenes.

She tore her gaze away to find the woman watching her, an avid expression on her face. Her aura was shrouded in a murky, grey fog. What secret did she guard?

The priestess said, ‘To remind all of us of the futility of war.'

There was a note in the priestess's voice that disturbed Sherise and she fiddled with her tunic. ‘Where I come from, we have displays of the beauty of nature, planets and stars and of families living together in harmony. This gives us hope.'

‘Our race, the Purideans, is from the purest lineage. We do not require hope.'

‘Yet you still pray to your gods.'

The priestess raised the doll, showing the burnt side to Sherise. ‘Our gods are strong. Far stronger than anything you can imagine. We are a puny reflection of their image.'

‘Strange, how your people do not need hope and yet they are afraid of their gods.'

‘What do you pray for, alien?' The woman's eyes were slits of glittering crystal.

‘We pray for guidance. And for peace.' Sherise spun on her heels and walked down the stairs, back straight, head high.

She thought of the total silence inside the temple, the subservience of the people and how, everywhere she looked, there was a vid-cam.

And all the long way back to her lodgings Sherise swore she could feel the priestess's cold gaze like a laser beam, burning between her shoulderblades.

***

Maaka had recognised Sherise's silhouette the instant he had seen her, but even before that moment his heart had squeezed with awareness, warning of her proximity. Skilled at hunting his prey, he had followed her for some time as she wandered the streets of the Fortress, seemingly in no organised pattern.

What was she looking for? Was she merely exploring the city or searching for something in particular?

The muscles along the line of his shoulders cramped as he considered the white-stone building and the dim shadows shrouding its entrance to give it a secretive appearance. It reminded him of the entrance to a tomb.

What would she find? Who she would meet? Then suddenly, she reappeared from inside the temple, walked down the steps and crossed the square to disappear around a corner.

Even from where he stood, he sensed her tension.

A scowl tightened his forehead as he stared toward the temple where a tall woman dressed in a long white dress had emerged. She didn't make any attempt to descend the stairs, but merely stared in the direction that Sherise had gone.

His mouth clamped shut, Maaka spun round and strode off. The day was well advanced and he had yet to complete his own explorations. It would behove him to remember what was at stake and not allow himself to be sidetracked by the scent of his woman.

Although he trusted very few Puridean within these walls, he failed to see how Sherise could be in any danger. She should be safe enough while he continued his mission.

He stalked down a side street in plain view but no passing Puridean gave him a second glance, clad as he was in the beige uniform of a menial member of their society.

Thanks to the shaky allegiance of the Relic warlord, he had snuck on board the shuttle encased in Darkon armour. Even now the memory of how the metal had seemed to mould into his skin and become one with his body caused a shudder to wrack him head to foot. How Kondo had come by the armour, he had not asked, and as soon as the shuttle landed in the Fortress, he swapped the disguise for a new one. Clothes he had hidden on previous incursions into the city and which remained, unfound, scrunched into a ball and wedged on a ledge inside a drain. He had no wish for his clothing to be found hidden in the house of one of the few friends who lived inside the dome. Harbouring or aiding an Outworlder carried a harsh punishment.

Banishment or death.

But so far, the god, Leon, smiled on him and he'd travelled unchallenged through the streets.

Tomorrow, he'd don the Darkon disguise once more and join Kondo and the other aliens for the tour.

Another turn and ahead he saw the building which housed the male contingent of the Star People. If his luck held, he would find the building empty and he could fill his empty belly. Afterwards, he would recon around the militia headquarters. Ascertaining the extent of their weaponry and the numbers of their peacekeepers was a priority.

His stride quickened.

Then faltered.

The door to the aliens' quarters opened and Maaka leapt sideways. He flattened his body into the shadows of the closest building as a woman emerged and loitered on the pavement, staring back at the doorway. She raised a hand in farewell and set off down the road, hips swinging in a seductive wriggle beneath gauzy skirts of pale yellow.

Maaka's gut clenched and he released his pent up breath in a slow hiss.

Lilith! Not my friend Jerry's sister? What, by Leon's beard, was she doing here?

He bounded forward, his gaze fixed on the closing door, but by the time he reached the entrance nothing but solid timber stared at him. His hands curled into fists as he debated whether to investigate who she'd been visiting. He could sense whoever they were standing behind the door, watching and waiting for him to depart.

But with at least one of the Star People inside, his need for food would have to wait. Instead he would find out from Lilith why she'd been inside that house.

He hastened along the footpath, diminishing the distance between him and his quarry with every long stride.

He reached out, grabbed her by the shoulder and flicked her round to face him. Her mouth rounded into a surprised circle and she stared for a second before squealing and flinging her arms about his neck.

Maaka sent a hunted glance in all directions up and down the street, while attempting to unglue her touch. She'd arrived unexpectedly at her brother's quarters one day and found him there. She quickly made it obvious she was keen to foster a close relationship with him. But she held no allure for Maaka and he knew his friend would not be happy if his only sister became involved with an Outworlder. Since then, he'd tried to avoid meeting her and had succeeded.

Until now.

He evaded her eager lips and finally managed to create space between their two bodies. His grip tightened over the fine bones of her wrists as he glared into her upturned face. She half lowered her lids and fluttered her thick lashes over high cheekbones. The flirtatious act only annoyed him.

‘Who were you visiting in the Star People's building, Lilith?'

A smug smile lit her face and she stepped forward to brush her pointed breasts against his chest.

Maaka dropped her hands and moved well out of range. He folded his arms, the bitter tang of distaste souring his mouth. Of all the people to come across, it had to be her! He waited, keeping his expression neutral, guarding the unease that spiked along his spine like the poisoned barbs of the carnivorous bramble vine.

She pouted. The sharpness in her frosty-blue eyes warned him of caution.

‘A friend. Are you jealous, Maaka?' She cocked her head to one side and slipped her finger into her mouth, making loud sucking noises.

He shot another look down the street as his acute senses warned of the approaching tread of militia. In the distance, a trio of soldiers rounded the corner. Not the city's peacekeepers then; it was the Star People returning to their quarters.

Maaka grasped her upper arm and swung her into step beside him as he surged into motion.