Starlaw (9 page)

“Sorry … I was being sarcastic,” Laurel said. “As to leaving this space, I don't think the commander would approve.”

Gemma pursed her lips. “Well, there are things you're going to have to know. How to get food when you're hungry and how to get clothing to wear. These are essential. Your uniform was ruined when you were attacked.”

“If I ask a few questions will that get me into trouble?” Laurel tentatively asked.

“Not with me.” Gemma smiled. “I have orders concerning certain … issues … but other than those ask away.”

“Okay. The first thing I noticed was that you and I are fairly the same as far as body structure. Oh, I'll grant that there are few changes, but not as many as I'd expect.”

“Are you asking if there are others who vary greatly from your own form?”

“Yeah. I guess that's what I'm asking,” Laurel said with a shrug.

“The answer is yes. There are those aboard who're quite a great deal less humanoid-looking than you, me, and the commander. Barst, the second-in-command you've already seen, is one of those beings. But despite his gruff appearance he's really a sweetheart when you get to know him.” Gemma bowed her head coyly.

Laurel registered there might be some romantic connection between the med-tech and the bear man she referred to as Barst. But she kept the obvious questions concerning how-do-you-do-
it
to herself. Besides it being none of her business, she wasn't altogether sure she wanted to know. There were other things she needed to wheedle out of Gemma. These had to do with her immediate safety.

Gemma continued her instruction. “Our teachings tell us that, thousands of years ago, the Creator of all things sent out explorers to inhabit different parts of the known universe. Earth was one of those planets. We're all supposed to have descended from those same explorers though we've evolved, technologically speaking, faster on some worlds than others.” Gemma kept speaking when Laurel didn't acknowledge that Earth might be one of those “other” worlds. “Many races have kept their original appearance. Many more have altered theirs as a direct result of breeding with other entities—”

“God. I believe in God,” Laurel murmured.

“That's one name the Creator has been called. There are others. And I'm glad that you
do
believe. He'll help you on this journey, Laurel. With him, you'll never be alone.”

“Yeah, I'm gonna need the company. But, if your teachings are correct, why didn't we advance at the same rate? I mean … if all of us came from a few seed individuals, shouldn't they have all had the same technology to begin with?”

“That's one of the mysteries for the priests to explain. Maybe it has something to do with the Creator's will that we make our own choices.” Gemma shrugged. “It's a choice to build a weapon to fight your neighbors. Another to put all your energy into a source of fuel to light cities, then to move into the stars. Perhaps that was where technology began to separate one civilization from another.”

“Well, there's one thing your commander is right about.
None
of the technology I've seen should be on Earth yet. We have too many ways to kill each other as it is!”

“I was told, before we were sent on this mission, that Earthers can be excessively violent,” Gemma said as she nodded in agreement. “Our scientists have monitored transmissions from your world and they've reported on this tendency. Your statement proves their summation is true. How difficult it must be for you to enforce your laws under such conditions.”

“Only sometimes. It's worse when innocent people have to die.” Laurel heard the bitterness in her voice but couldn't have curbed it. “I understand the man who killed my partner is in custody on this ship.”

“Yes, he is. Goll … the vamphiere who killed your friends … is in a cell, within stasis mist. He's sort of frozen in time. We don't have to worry about any escape attempts or his threatening any of the crew. His species is very volatile.”

An idea suddenly popped into Laurel's head.

What if she could find a way to get to Goll and make sure some so-called advanced race
didn't
set him free? The very thought went against everything she believed in as a cop, but something told her she may never see home again. More to the point, she knew Cory would try the same thing she was thinking.

Despite the commander's statement over wishing the vampire-like thing dead, who knew what an advanced culture might do? That he'd murdered primitives—like Earthlings—on a far off planet might not even be a pertinent factor in his sentencing. If she understood the situation correctly, space cops were probably as ineffective when it came to penalizing requests as they were on Earth. Hadn't the commander only
wished
Goll dead? That openly uttered sentiment meant the man in charge of this space ship didn't have a lot of pull in getting his quarry sentenced.

“Uh, Gemma, maybe you could show me how to use the computers now? I'm kind of hungry,” Laurel lied.

Gemma smiled brightly and briefly clapped her hands in a show of joyful expectation. “That's a sign your health is improving. Come on. I'll show you how to order food, though the capacity to obtain more than the basics is limited from the med bay.”

Laurel hated using blue girl, but what did she really know about her? And what difference did her personal feelings make when one was trying to survive? She had to use her wits. Empathizing might not be the best thing to do.

With that in mind she watched every move Gemma made and made a mental note of each button the woman pushed. To further glean information she might need, she began a casual series of questions.

“Um … I may speak and read a lot of other languages now, but that won't account for customs. I don't want to push anyone the wrong way. I've already had a bad start with your commander. Will you help me learn how to stay out of trouble, Gemma?”

“Of course! That's a very prudent idea,” Gemma said as she nodded. “The commander is a fair man, but he does have a temper. He's a little short on compassion these days.”

Laurel had no trouble believing that. To get around the commander and commit to her plan, she concentrated on every word Gemma said. If big, tan, muscle-building guy lost his temper over her having trashed one space aboard his precious ship, he was gonna shit a real fury turd before she was done. But there was one thing about cops she guessed might be universal. They didn't do what they did expecting to be popular. With that thought in mind, his good opinion was the last thing she worried about.

• • •

“Commander, we're approaching Chamron,” Barst advised, as Darius stepped onto the bridge and took his seat.

“Have we received permission to dock?” Darius asked as he checked the computer readings on the console in front of him.

“Yes, sir. Everything is in order, including our refueling request.”

“Good. The sooner we get off this planet, the better. Some of the locals aren't enamored with enforcers. Besides, it's been fifteen days since we left Earth but it feels like a year. I want us home.”

Several of the crew heartily murmured in agreement.

The hatch to the bridge opened and Gemma took a position to the left of Darius. “Sir, as soon as we've docked, may I speak with you?”

“Go ahead, speak your mind. Barst can handle things from here on.”

“Well … it has to do with Laurel.” Gemma hesitated in saying more.

“What's she done
now
?” Darius frowned as he took note of Gemma's concerned expression. The last thing he wanted was trouble while in
this
particular port. Inhabitants of Chamron were known to start fights at the first inclination. He'd have to watch every step they made while dealing with locals. He couldn't spare the time for the Earther's fits of childish temper.

“No, sir, she hasn't done anything. It's just that … given the fact she's got to be assimilated sooner or later, I thought …” Her voice trailed away.

“You're not remotely serious!” he blurted.

“Why not?” Gemma pressed. “She's been cooped up in med bay doing nothing but research on the computer. The isolation and whatever she's looking at in the general library records isn't helping her attitude. She's let it slip on more than one occasion that she's not sure she's really on a ship at all. What better way to make her face reality than to put her in a position she can't deny?” She sighed heavily. “Sir, I think it'd do her mental status some good. As med-tech, it's my professional opinion she'd be better off and so would we all, once she understands there are no schemes, no deceits. She has to recognize the truth about what's happened to her.”

From his console, Barst chimed in. “She's
still
confined?”

“She
is
,” Darius confirmed. Then he thought for a long moment and actually considered the request and its implications. He stroked his chin and stared out the main view port. “However crazy it sounds and however reluctant I might be to encourage some incident … Gemma may have a point.”

“She does?” Barst asked in shock.

“Of course I do!” Gemma defended as she glared at Barst.

Barst shook his head in wonder. “I don't get it.”

Darius did his best to explain in light of Gemma's professional counsel. “Our … guest … can't go back to Earth. To contain further displays of irrational rage, she hasn't been told. I reiterate the general order that only I am to discuss certain matters with the woman.”

Barst and Gemma nodded in unison as did any bridge crew standing near enough to hear.

Darius tapped the arm of his command chair as he thought on the matter. “I suppose … if she's to be living among cultures that will seem very strange … she must be introduced to them sooner or later. And while Chamron isn't the best place for such an experiment, it's a damn lot better than letting her walk down the gangway on Luster and watch reality hit her
there
. Creator only knows how she'll respond.

“Exactly my thoughts,” Gemma said as she eagerly stepped closer to her superior.

“Can you certify this request
is
in her best mental and physical interests?” Darius asked as he stared at Gemma.

“It is, sir. As I've said … I'm not entirely convinced she believes all this has happened to her.”

He lifted one shoulder and let it fall. “Gemma's professional opinion is valid.”

“Assuming she's properly escorted, and Gemma and I volunteer for that duty, perhaps it could do some good?” Barst relented. “With us right beside her the whole time, what could go wrong? We'll stay away from known trouble spots. The refueling won't take that long.”

“She's not a prisoner,” Gemma pressed.

“Not
yet
,” Darius quickly countered with one brow raised. “I suppose I'd better go too. Not that I don't trust the two of you,” he amended, “but the woman is crafty. I can almost see the gears in her brain turning.”

“I reiterated that she might be a little more compliant if she's given some freedom, sir. Getting off the ship may reinforce the need to stay close to us, depend on us. It shows a small amount of trust.”

“Why does the word
compliant
not even register when I think of that woman?” Darius sarcastically uttered.

Barst snorted.

Gemma glared at the second-in-command.

Darius sighed heavily. “All right. I'll let her out of the med bay; she can leave the ship. But she's to be constantly escorted. Is that clear?”

“Thank you, sir.” Gemma smirked as she quickly exited the bridge.

For the briefest moment, Darius felt manipulated but he quickly cast off the idea as impossible. Gemma hadn't a scheming bone in her body. He put his attention back on the approach to Chamron.

“Well … this should prove interesting.” Barst grinned broadly. “It'll at least be a break in the monotony of deep space.”

“Maybe Gemma's right. Maybe using reverse psychology is the solution.”

“Sir?”

“Barst … if she sees what kind of trouble she could really get into, maybe the Earther won't pull any more theatrics and we can have a smooth voyage home.”

“You know … she
has
a name,” Barst reminded him.

“And we both have business to tend.” Darius cleared his throat and adjusted the controls in front of him.

• • •

“I don't understand. I thought he was dead set against me even leaving the med bay much less the ship,” Laurel said as she gazed at Gemma suspiciously.

“I just asked nicely and he changed his mind. The commander isn't made of stone, Laurel. He just needed some persuading. Besides … we've got a long journey ahead of us. He really never intended for you to stay locked away for the entire trip, I'm sure of it.”

“I still don't get it,” Laurel said, remaining steadfastly unconvinced.

“Just accept it as the offering it was meant to be. Now … let's get ready. We'll find something for you to wear. Think of this as a great exploration.”

Questions raced through Laurel's mind. She was scared of everything that was happening and couldn't show it. No one was asking about who might be worried about her back home. And now she was about to disembark some sort of alien spacecraft and venture abroad on some world no one from Earth had probably ever heard of. If her gut wasn't hurting so bad, the situation would be comical. No old TV flick could have been plotted any worse. As alone as she'd sometimes felt back home, she truly knew the meaning of the word now and everyone around her was acting as if she should just accept, deal, and get on with what was left of her life. To them, she wasn't a person with feelings. Even Gemma's gaiety was wearing thin. Surely, if blue girl really cared, she'd be asking about things that'd been left behind.