Alpha Rising (9 page)

While Altemus shut down the engines and
entered a code on the flight deck keyboard, Bach took in all he
could from the windows. Inside the huge spaceport several
utilitarian-looking spacecraft were parked in formation in the
foreground, and a production area with the framework of an enormous
spacecraft under construction in the distance.

The three stepped from the dragonfly, then
passed through a short metal tunnel ending at an elevator-like
door. Star wrote on a touchpad on the wall with her finger then
leaned forward and pressed her cheek against something that looked
like a blue coin. A tiny motor whirred.

“
Determines DNA,” Altemus
offered without elaborating.

The door slid open. From there, they rode a
tubular transport car to the housing and dining Skyprism. Bach was
shown to a spacious private room and left to clean up and rest.

*****

Alone and uneasy, the earthling glanced
around the alien room. Deep indentations in the gray stone walls
made it seem as if a battle of some kind had taken place there. He
moved farther within and sized up a round bed topped with a silky
coverlet that seemed woven from spun bronze. He sat on the bed and
pulled off his flight shoes. Something strange near the door caught
his eye. An odd-looking image of himself reflected in large mirrors
that spanned ceiling to floor on both sides of the doorway. He
waved his hand. The multidimensional reflection moved in slow
motion. Another try came with a breath and a mutter, “Not ready to
investigate that yet.”

A silvery jumpsuit, like the ones worn by
Altemus and Star, hung over the back of a lounge chair to the right
of the bed, and beneath it lay a pair of flexible platinum boots. A
doorway beyond the chair led to what looked like a bathroom. Bach’s
bare feet slid along the cold, marble-like floor as he ventured
toward the room. Inside, he found an alcove on the right with a
circular pool fashioned from small transparent rocks that looked
like bubble packaging. A transparent toilet and sink to the left
appeared to be made from acrylic material, but were soft to the
touch.

On the counter, a metal
tray held a hefty silver goblet filled with a clear liquid. Above
the sink was another of the image-enhancing mirrors.
Aha! Now I can check out these mirrors.
He stood to one side and jiggled his hand in front
of the sepia-toned glass. “Amazing.” He stepped in front of it and
as soon as he did, his face took on a depth not bound or limited by
the wall behind him. A quick turn of his head sideways then back
again created a slow-moving, dimensional image where he could see
from every angle until the image caught up. He gulped. “Oh, my
gosh. I could watch myself comb the back of my hair.” After leaning
forward to study his reflection, the thrill faded fast at noting
his ashen skin and bloodshot eyes. “That can’t be me.” He touched
his face and stared at the image. “It’s a character in a horror
movie. ‘
Horror movie … horror
movie
.’”
His mirror
image’s lips formed the words over and over.

Bach suddenly felt lost and
alone, and dread gripped hard. He held his beard-stubbled face in
both hands, wanting to scream and yell in frustration, but emotion
stayed locked inside. Hunched over the sink, he talked to himself,
“Where the hell am I? Friends or foes? Where’s Kaz … and Deni,
Lynch, and G.R.? This is a nightmare. I’ll awaken and everything
will be normal again. I’ll be home. Kaz and I will get married. But
I couldn’t dream anything like this. I
am
somewhere on a planet called
Jenesis, on the continent of Dura.” He closed his eyes, tilted his
head back, and sighed. “Maybe I’m dead.”

“
You’re not dead,” replied
a voice. A faint echo followed.

Bach snapped back and
looked around. “Who’s talking to me?” He stuck his head beyond the
bathroom door and scanned the main room.
No one there.

The voice spoke again, “Your new life has
just begun.”

He turned back, and saw in the mirror the
same gauzy, yellow face he’d seen on the AstroLab. But the glass’s
abnormal effects created a more disconcerting image. The anomalous
apparition drifted around inside the mirror then
stopped—superimposed over Bach’s reflection, appearing as if inside
his head. “You’re on the wrong side now,” the copper-eyed face
said. “But I’ll let you join me and your crewmates. Come away, my
friend. You have yet to experience our pleasures.”

Bach sucked in an angry breath and shouted,
“Damn you! I hate you for taking my crewmates. I hate this planet.”
He tried to step away, but his energy seemed to drain, and there
came a sensation of invisible shackles binding his legs. The silver
goblet was within reach. He slammed it against the mirror, sending
a spray of liquid through the air. The mirror’s reflective surface
didn’t break, but ripples within gave the impression of a liquid
core. The distorted apparition faded away. Heart pounding, Bach
steadied himself against the sink. Waiting for his strength to
return, he noticed a deep indentation in the metal goblet that
wasn’t there before.

Shaking his head in
bewilderment, he crept back into the main room, eyes scanning as he
walked.
Are cameras recording my every
move?
He rested on the edge of the bed and
recalled Kaz’s fear of having needles stuck in their navels.
Oh, please, God, don’t let them torture her … or
any of us.

#

Bach’s eyes opened and he
leapt from the bed.
Where am I?
As sleep cleared from his head, he remembered.
Whispering out loud as if talking to someone else he said, “Gotta
figure out how to find Kaz … recover the crew … or join them. Maybe
they’re in safe hands and I’m not.”

He went back into the
bathroom and looked in the mirror. No apparition this time, just a
weary Bach Turner looking back.
Get on
with it
, he thought to himself while
stepping over to the small, deep, bathing pool.
A hot bath would feel good
. He pushed
two icon-identified buttons, then stood back. Streams of
peppermint-scented water shot from a dozen jets in the pool’s
sides, engulfing the room in a fragrant fog.
I’ll submerge myself all the way to the neck.
He filled the pool as high as he dared, then
pulled off his NASA-issued jumpsuit, stepped into the steaming,
scented water, and sat with his back resting in a curved area.
Barely able to see through the sauna-like mist, and feeling oddly
buoyant, he moved his arms under the water and rubbed his hands
over his face. “Strange,” he said aloud. “Not at all like water on
Earth. Almost can’t feel it … different surface tension … less
resistance when I splash.” Curious, he drew random patterns on the
water’s surface with his finger and watched in amusement as the
drawings lingered before blending in. Relaxing a little at a time,
he slid farther down until just his head was out. The soothing
aroma revived his body and mind, and before long he came up with a
plan.

With a towel wrapped around
his lower half, Bach headed back to the main room and stood before
his 3-D image in the big mirror, talking to himself. “Number one
goal: learn as much as I can so I can rescue my crew. We can make
it back to Earth with this advanced technology.” He walked to the
lounge chair and half-heartedly picked up the silver jumpsuit. “But
first I’ll have to blend in on Jenesis, be the pleasant earthling,
peacefully coexist, and try to do everything right.” The odd fabric
felt strange in his hands. He ran his fingers over the gold circle
icon.
An eternity symbol. Star said it
represents a tunnel of light.

Like a kid whistling in a graveyard when
he’s scared, Bach hummed “Yesterday” by the Beatles as he pulled on
the cool, slithery jumpsuit, cringing as he ran his hand down the
sleeve and across his thumping chest. The thin fabric, formed from
millions of minuscule circles, felt like snake skin, yet had a
strength to it that seemed indestructible. “I don’t like being a
snake,” he said, almost hissing. He touched it again. “Won’t get
used to this.” After studying the peculiar designs on the soft,
platinum-colored boots, he hesitated for a moment then pulled them
on. Seeing his feet and lower legs in the odd attire, he
complained. “I feel foolish.”

He stepped back to the big
mirrors by the door, stared for a moment, then slid his hand into
the jumpsuit’s left hip pocket and strutted forward like a male
model.
Nope.
He
imitated a muscle-bound wrestler with clenched fists and half-bent
arms.
Not even close.
Then he tried a superhero stance with hands on his hips and a
puffed up chest. The reflection in the peculiar mirrors
disheartened him. “There’s that stupid movie character again,” he
said, pointing. “This time he’s in a Halloween costume in a bad 3-D
movie.” He walked away grumbling. “Bachman Turner is not ready for
this new life.”

Bach flopped on the bed, closed his eyes,
and prayed that when he opened them he would be back on Earth and
life would again be normal.

A knock at the door and Star’s voice calling
his name brought him to his feet. “Bach! Time for the briefing
dinner.”

“
Courage,” he mumbled, as
he walked to the door and swung it open to a life that wasn’t
supposed to be his.

*****

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The transport tube moved from one level of
the Skyprism to another with virtually no sensation of motion. When
the convex door slid open, Altemus, Star, and Bach stepped into a
round, windowless dining room clearly reserved for special
events.

Plush blue carpeting scrunched beneath
Bach’s boots as he walked through the spacious room toward a large
dining table. A man and woman seated across from each other at the
table had him locked in their sights. He tried to keep focused, but
an array of mouth-watering aromas from freshly prepared foods
jousted his stagnant taste buds, making him realize just how long
it had been since he’d eaten real food.

Star took a seat beside the man, and Altemus
motioned for Bach to sit between himself and the woman, then he
introduced them. “Bach, this is Lavender Rose, head of our intel
operations, and Wilde, our chief of research and communications.
They’re key personnel in our effort to restore order to our zone.
Lavender and Wilde, this is Bach Turner, he’ll be working with you
while he adjusts to his new home.”

Bach weighed the two aliens’ probing gazes
against the uncertainty of still not knowing if he was with friend
or foe, and mentally instructed himself to deliver a convincing
performance as a friendly intruder amongst those of higher
intellect.

Wilde stood and reached across the massive
table for a handshake. “Been waiting to meet you.”

Bach’s reach met him halfway. “Good to meet
you.”

“
By the way, Bach, my
name’s Wilde with an
e
.”

“‘
Wilde with an
e,
’” he repeated as he
sat.

Bach turned to acknowledge
Lavender Rose, only to find her porcelain-skinned face inches from
his. He leaned back into his own space and half-spoke,
half-coughed. “Pleasure to meet you, Lavender Rose.” Now another
dazzling fragrance captivated him—different from Star’s
intoxicating essence, but just as alluring.
This one’s easier to peg. Like a garden of roses showered
with lemon. She smells like her name—a lavender rose.

“
Pleasure to meet
you
,” Lavender Rose said.
Her low, raspy voice seemed an odd contradiction to her delicate
appearance and name. She looked Bach up and down with a seductive
smile.

A rush of embarrassment claimed Bach’s face.
He fidgeted in his chair, beset by her mesmerizing fragrance, but
put off by her overt friendliness and rough-edged voice that
reminded him of somebody running in corduroy jeans.

Lavender’s pouty red lips parted with a sly
smile as she drank in the earthling with a heavy-lidded,
non-blinking gaze.

He couldn’t help but stare at her unusual
gray eyes—a stunning contrast to her short dark hair, rosy cheeks,
and pale skin.

Wilde raised a glass of water. “I hope
you’re hungry, Bach. We tried to come up with a selection of foods
you might enjoy.”

Bach lifted his glass in
return, and suddenly became aware of the curious qualities of those
in his presence. Wilde’s Bohemian appearance was a sharp contrast
to the technical surroundings. The wiry genius’s spiked blond hair
stuck up in odd places, and his emotionless green eyes seemed more
befitting a zoned-out surfer than an extraterrestrial savant. Then
there was Lavender Rose, a techno authority eligible for a black
belt in seduction.
But this is another
time and place,
he reminded
himself.

Between casual sips of water, Wilde’s focus
switched back and forth between Bach, and Lavender Rose’s interest
in the earthling.

Altemus hoisted a huge platter laden with a
mouthwatering array of browned meats and held it in front of Bach.
“Let’s get started.”

Although famished, Bach
selected something that resembled a small pork chop. His subtle
inhalation left him wondering what he was about to eat.
Who cares? Can’t wait to dig in.

Altemus speared a slab of ribs and flopped
it onto Bach’s plate. “Eat hearty, Bach, we have much to
discuss.”