Bonded in Space Read online

  They care more about a speeding space ship than eating breakfast? he wondered, only slightly interested.

  The other Verdantes in the dining hall sat close together, still young and innocent enough to not be concerned about reading each other’s thoughts during this happy time.

  M. Mort sat at a distance from them. His thoughts were glum, and he didn’t want to have to hold up the cold, uncomfortable shields while he was eating.

  He drank thirstily from a large tube of the green chlorophyll water his species required for survival. Not very hungry, he picked at his solid food, shoving it around on his plate with his fork.

  Snippets of the mental conversation of the other diners floated across the room into M. Mort’s head.

  “What ship was that coming in so fast this morning? What do you think’s going on? Did you pick out your new pet yet? I got one with bright red hair and tattoos!”

  M. Mort tried to push the others’ mental words out, and his mind turned back to his own situation.

  I just don’t feel enthused about checking out the humans today, he realized. But if I don’t pick one now, I’ll have to wait six months for the chance to get another one. I’d have to wait six months to go exploring in outer space while everyone else my age leaves now.

  M. Mort let out a gigantic telepathic sigh. Some of the others turned and looked at him with their large eyes widened. He looked away.

  The sound of many loud telepathic voices came from outside the door. And the sound of many booted feet walking at a normal pace toward the dining hall.

  “Can you believe the Jalapeno is actually coming here! Could Earth be in danger? Do you think we’ll be able to see the crew? Do they look like the actors who play them in the videos?”

  Jalapeno, smalapeno, thought M. Mort.

  The new diners got their meals and began to fill up the seats around him.

  I guess I’m done eating now, he thought.

  He got up to leave.

  For some reason, M. Mort didn’t feel like heading to the human viewing rooms just yet. He went back to his quarters and sat down sideways on the bed that was just his size. The room was meant for short says, and there was no other furniture in it except for a small bedside table.

  M. Mort slouched back against the wall behind the bed and thought about his options.

  If I don’t pick a human today, I can pick another one in six months, but what would I do between now and then? he wondered. If I go back to the Verdante planet, that trip takes a month. What would I do there for four months? Then it would take another month to get back. The trip here wasn’t bad though. But no. Now it will be different on the way back to the Verdante planet because everyone will have their new humans with them. Everyone except me.

  M. Mort stood up and walked over to the window. He raised the shade and let the strong morning sunlight flood his face and the room. Everything from sunlight intensity to temperature to air quality was regulated on the Verdante planet. Earth was sometimes uncomfortable, sometimes intense, but fascinating in its own way.

  Just like Pweet, thought M. Mort.

  He tried to shove the thought away, but right when he thought of her, that strange pulling feeling somewhere deep inside him returned. It was directional and seemed to be pointing upward. Upward and far away but no less strong. Stronger if anything.

  No, I’m probably imaging this, M. Mort told himself. Anyway, I guess I could stay here another six months. They always need some adolescents to interact with the Earthlings. Because the sight of the adults would terrify them. But I’ll have to get the adults’ permission. I’ll have to go over to the adult section and ask someone about this.

  His decision made, M. Mort stood up and headed out the door, walking in the direction of the large adult compound. Excited adolescents in their blue ship suits passed him, all going the other way—toward the human viewing rooms. He was relieved that no one paid any attention to him.

  M. Mort walked down the vast high-ceilinged hallway. At its end, the ceilings soared even higher. Enormous double doors slid apart automatically as he approached.

  He entered a gigantic circular room. Huge adults dressed in bright red ship suits crossed the room in many directions—going in and out of the tall arched doors spaced all around the room. Even at a far distance, M. Mort felt flashes of coldness as the big adults raised their mental shields whenever they came within six feet of each other.

  Could this be why adults always live in such gigantic spacious places? M. Mort wondered. So they have room to keep enough distance from each other?

  Adult females were here too. The space trip between the Verdante planet and Earth was assumed to be safe for them.

  M. Mort’s space boots bounced on the room’s deep-cushioned flooring. The extra cushioning absorbed some of the adult’s enormous weight and saved strain on their joints and knees. A high elegant dome soared above his head. The room’s opulence was a sharp contrast to the utilitarian adolescent section of the Verdante center.

  M. Mort, two feet shorter than the ten-foot-tall adults and dressed in blue, felt invisible. But he was noticed. A gigantic adult soon approached him. The broad green man looked down at M. Mort and spoke in a deep telepathic voice.

  “If you’re here to get a look at the crew of the Jalapeno, young man, we’ve already told all the others this isn’t a video show. You need to go back to the adolescent section and pick out your human. That’s what you’re on Earth for.”

  “No. I’m not here because of the Jalapeno,” said M. Mort. “I don’t care about them. I’m here to talk to someone about staying on Earth for another six months because I haven’t picked out a human yet, and I’m not ready to.”

  “Oh,” said the gigantic adult. “We do need some of you younger people to stay here and interact with the natives. If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to someone you can talk to about that.”

  M. Mort followed the big man across the room to the entrance to another large hallway.

  Chapter 10

  Back on Central Planet…

  The residence door rose up all the way, and Antaska walked in with the big cat who had followed her home walking right next to her. She looked up at M. Hoyvil’s worried face and across at tiny Potat on the giant-sized couch. The little cat was fluffed up to twice her size. Like a black puff ball with a white stripe across the top.

  “Hello. I’m home,” Antaska said in her most cheerful mental voice.

  Now that she’d accepted being telepathic, she realized it was easier for M. Hoyvil to speak that way. And Potat couldn’t speak any other way.

  “Look who followed me home.”

  Antaska gestured toward the orange-striped cat, and he plopped his hindquarters down on the floor.

  Potat wrinkled up her tiny face and snarled.

  M. Hoyvil sputtered and then spoke telepathically. “What’s up? Potat said you were in danger earlier. Are you OK?”

  “Oh! I was in danger earlier, but now I’m fine,” said Antaska. “And I met this cat at the police station, and he came home with me.”

  M. Hoyvil stared at her with widened eyes, but he didn’t say anything.

  Potat stopped snarling and spoke in a growly mental voice. “That’s not all that happened, is it?”

  “What do you mean?” Antaska asked.

  “You let that cat follow you home, didn’t you? You could have told him to go away, but you didn’t,” said Potat in the most bitter mental voice Antaska had ever heard her use.

  “Well, that wouldn’t have been nice, would it? What’s the big deal, anyway?” asked Antaska.

  The enormous cat lowered himself all the way down to the floor next to Antaska and crossed his paws in front of him. He stared up at Potat with quiet interest.

  “Don’t pretend to be innocent! You know what the big deal is,” the tiny cat yelled in her tiny mental voice. “You’re my pet, not that cat’s! You can’t just bring home another cat. Cats don’t share. I thought you cared about me.”

>   Then Potat curled up in a tiny ball and sobbed and sniffed.

  Antaska walked over and jumped up onto the gigantic couch next to Potat. She bent down and whispered in her ear. “Of course I love you the best. You’re my favorite. You’ll always be my favorite.”

  The big cat rolled gigantic green eyes and then rolled his gigantic head.

  M. Hoyvil’s head turned back and forth looking from one to the other of them and the new cat, but he didn’t say anything. He walked over next to Antaska and bent down to whisper to her telepathically.

  “What kind of a cat is this? It’s really big. Is it dangerous?”

  With a hand still petting Potat, Antaska straightened up and answered him, also in a low telepathic whisper.

  “I don’t know what kind of cat this is. I think he’s sentient but in a different way. He talks to me by using mental pictures instead of words.”

  Just then, the big cat sent a moving image into Antaska’s mind. The orange-striped cat ran and jumped outside in a grassy green field. He rolled over on his back and playfully batted at some flowers.

  “So he’s just a big kitten?” M. Hoyvil asked.

  He must have seen the image too.

  “That’s no kitten. And that’s not a normal cat,” said Potat.

  She whispered telepathically to Antaska. “He has humanoid genes!”

  The big cat opened his mouth wide and made a strange half-meow, half-roar noise.

  “You don’t scare me!” said Potat.

  Antaska knew Potat, and she got worried that a fight would break out. But M. Hoyvil interrupted.

  “Let’s talk about this cat thing later, OK?” he said. “I think what’s most important now is that Antaska was in danger. Aren’t you worried about that?” he asked little Potat.

  She dropped her tiny head down into her skunk-black paws.

  “It’s OK,” said Antaska, petting her on the head.

  Then Antaska told M. Hoyvil what had happened and how she’d been taken to the police station.

  “You are in danger!” he said. “Someone’s trying to kill you! Are the Central Planet police going to do anything about this?”

  A picture appeared in their minds of the big cat standing in front of Antaska—growling and slashing the air with gigantic claws.

  “How’s that going to help if someone throws a bomb?” M. Hoyvil asked.

  Another picture appeared of the big cat batting bomb balls away with a flurry of flying paws.

  “That’s not good enough,” said M. Hoyvil. “You’ll have to stay inside, Antaska. And we’ll have to leave this planet as soon as possible. It’s not safe for you here.”

  “Yeah. We’ll have to leave without that orange cat,” said Potat.

  The cat sent them an image of himself sniffing and crying.

  “I don’t know if I can handle being cooped up inside all the time,” said Antaska.

  M. Hoyvil shook his head in silent disagreement.

  “Who would be trying to kill you, anyway?” he asked. “Maybe the Woogahs?”

  “I don’t know,” said Antaska.

  “It could be a lot of people,” said Potat.

  “What?” said Antaska.

  “You know I hear what people are thinking about you,” Potat answered. “Some of the other humanoids are jealous of your pink head fur. They say it’s unnatural and it’s unfair, but I like it.”

  “Thanks,” said Antaska, “but I really don’t think someone’s trying to kill me because of my hair color. I think M. Hoyvil might be right about the Woogahs.”

  M. Hoyvil changed the subject. “Does this cat have a name?”

  “I don’t know because he only talks with pictures,” said Antaska.

  “I can find out his name,” said Potat.

  She stared intently at the orange cat, and he stared back at her for several moments.

  Then Potat said, “His name is Wawuul.”

  “How did you find that out?” Antaska asked her.

  “Well, I do speak cat, you know,” Potat answered.

  She lifted a small paw and began washing it as if bored by the whole situation.

  Chapter 11

  Meanwhile, somewhere in warp space...

  Pweet sat in the bridge across from the attractive but strange alien Marroo. She had all kinds of questions for him about where they were going and what they were going to do there, but he seemed kind of evasive.

  “How long will we stay on your planet before we take off to the unexplored parts of the galaxy?” she asked.

  “Well, that depends,” said Marroo. “Are you interested in getting any genetic modifications while we’re on the Woogah planet? Our doctors are experts at that, you know.”

  “Why would I want that?” asked Pweet.

  In between speaking to her or answering, Marroo had the habit of staring at her for long moments with his cloudy eyes.

  Maybe that’s just a weird thing his species does, thought Pweet.

  She waited for him to answer.

  He frowned and shook his head, ruffling his wavy blue hair, and then spoke.

  “Perhaps you’d like to change your hair color? Many females want to do that. What about pink?” he asked.

  “I’m happy with my hair color, thank you,” said Pweet.

  “Or you could become taller and stronger,” Marroo went on, not seeming to notice her lack of interest. “It’s a common procedure. Our doctors can add Woogah genes to make your head bigger and cockroach genes for strength.”

  “Cockroach genes! Ugh!” said Pweet. “No thanks!”

  Marroo looked kind of frowny. He stared at her with intense eyes. A stab of pain pierced her mind.

  “Ouch!” yelled Pweet.

  She grabbed her head and moaned. After a while the pain faded.

  “Did you just do that to me?” Pweet asked Marroo.

  “Not I,” he insisted. “It’s the Verdantes, I told you. They’re searching through space for you with the power of their minds.”

  “Oh,” said Pweet.

  Oddly, she felt hopeful again when he said that. But somehow, she didn’t believe quite him. And another strange thing. Whenever he mentioned the Verdantes or she thought about M. Mort, she felt a tug deep inside her somewhere. Before they entered warp space, it was pointing down, but in warp space, it pointed all over the place.

  “I’m going to the exercise room. Maybe that will help with these headaches I’ve been having,” said Pweet.

  She got up from her chair and walked to the door of the bridge.

  “Would you like me to come with you?” Marroo asked.

  “No. Thanks, but I feel like being alone right now. You know, some me time,” said Pweet on her way out the door.

  Marroo watched the beautiful Earth woman walk away from him. Long silver hair brushed tantalizingly across her swaying hips.

  Women don’t walk away from me! Marroo’s fumed. She’s the first one to ever act like this. Because she is immune to my virility—my hypnotic powers. It’s because she’s not telepathic yet, only in the beginning stages. Yes, that’s why. I’ll have to keep yelling at her mentally until I break through her natural barriers to telepathy. Then I’ll set my spell upon her, and her body will be mine! She’ll have to endure some headaches, but that’s OK. That’s just the price of becoming telepathic, and it will be worth the price.

  Restless, he paced around the bridge waiting for Pweet to return. She appeared a few hours later.

  “That was a long workout,” said Marroo.

  “Oh, I only worked out for about an hour, and then I got some rest in my room,” Pweet told him.

  She sat down in the chair across the bridge from him—her chair. Then she spun around and faced away from him. She started looking on the computer that held his video collection.

  “You have a lot of videos on the Verdantes,” said Pweet. “Do you mind if I watch some of them? To pass the time?”

  “I’m sorry,” Marroo told her, “but those are classified. Only mem
bers of my profession and species may view them.”

  He realized that he would have to lock up those videos as soon as possible. If Pweet watched them, it would be disastrous!

  “Well, is there anything I can watch then?” she asked him. “Because three months is a long time, and it could get boring. There’s nothing to see on the view screens now that we’re in warp space. Don’t you have any story videos from your planet?”

  “I’ll look through them and find some that you can watch,” said Marroo.

  He walked over to her side of the room and stood right next to her. She scooted several inches away.

  As Marroo scrolled through the lists and selected various videos that looked harmless enough for her to watch, he wondered about this strange female he had abducted.

  She is like no female I have ever encountered, he thought. They have all been so compliant, so quiet. Just waiting to do my bidding. But they were all under the influence of my spell of love, and she is not. Except for the courtesans, of course, but those encounters were for one purpose only—simple compared to dealing with this woman. Are all women like this when they’re not working or hypnotized?

  The realization hit Marroo that he had never known any women except when they were either under hypnosis or else selling their love in a business transaction.

  But I have seen them for short periods of time before I hypnotized them, he remembered. Antaska, for example. Ah! She was so quiet and reserved compared to this one! That day I first saw her sitting among the Verdantes and other humans in the Tri-Galaxies space station dining hall. The other humans were quite rude, but she didn’t react to them. Well, she lost her temper at the end and yelled at them telepathically, but that was OK. That’s how I found out she was telepathic, and that I would be able to kidnap her.

  Marroo sighed telepathically at the memory of that day.

  “Ow!” Pweet yelled again too near his ear for comfort. “I’ve got that headache again. I’m going to my room. Please let me know when you find the videos.”

  Again, Marroo watched the beautiful woman walk away from him.

  “Soon. Very soon we will be together,” he said to her telepathically.