Tower rattled her chair.
“I’ll help,” she grumbled, “but first, a question. Are these creatures really aliens?”
The lights blinked three times, Tower’s version ofI don’t know.
It seemed plausible given what she’d learned thus far. Still, extraterrestrial life? She knew it existed, but this was the first time she got to play with any part of it. The non-threatening galactic visitors obviously didn’t leave any bodies behind, since the warriors tended to not kill them. As for the dangerous versions, the warriors exterminated them before they could do harm to Earth and, being thorough, left no trace behind.
“Exactly what do you need me to do for this man?”
A diorama appeared on her counter, showing the first few floors of the Tower. Each of the floors up to eight illuminated one at a time.
Her brows lifted. “You expect me to give him a tour? Not sure how that will work if he’s asleep.” When it came to unknowns who required tending, she put them to sleep first. Easier than dealing with the wailing, questioning of her actions, and just in general annoying conversation.
A double flash negative.
“Wait, are you saying he’ll be awake?”
Blink.
“I don’t really feel comfortable doing that.”
Her chair rattled.
“Goodness you’re being insistent. Is it that important?” Couldn’t a tour wait until the other warriors returned?
Blink. Blink.
Apparently not. She sighed. “Realize I am only doing this because we’re friends.” The air gave her a warm hug, and she laughed. “I’ll show your new Starman around, but soon as I get him to his apartment, I’m coming back here!”
Blink.
While she dreaded having to be social, she couldn’t say no to Tower, not after all it had done for her. She’d arrived broken and on the verge of death. The fate of a woman in a country that decided females served only one purpose and that science was an affront to their God. She’d almost died for her defiance. Beaten and bleeding, she’d stumbled into a rug shop, shocking the owner, who’d immediately run outside to snitch on her presence. She’d raced for the rear of the store, only to have her eye caught by a hatch in the floor. She pulled open the door onto the back alley but dropped down into the sub level in the hopes those chasing her would be fooled.
The cellar had no light, and she still remembered how the darkness pressed. She’d almost choked on her fear when she heard the clomping of feet overhead. Terrified at being found, she’d retreated until her back hit a wall. A wall that suddenlyopened and spilled her into a room that glowed. Actually, it was the arch that shone, the sigils upon it alit and fascinating. However, it wasn’t their prettiness that had her dashing through the doorway the stone formed, but hearing her pursuers opening the hatch.
She’d run through, hoping to find another hidden door on the far side, only to end up in Tower’s portal room. A shock to be sure, and, in time, she understood Tower chose to save her. It had unlocked the secret door and brought her to a safe place. Not that she believed that at first. Tower showed much patience—and kindness—before she learned to trust it and its magic. She spent the first few months flinching at the slightest noise, so many nights waking up sweating and trembling from nightmares. In the beginning, as she adjusted, Tower didn’t force her to socialize. It gave her the choice to remain secluded and provided her with the tools to work on her passion, science, of which there was plenty in a place where the impossible got stored.
All that to say, if Tower now asked for a favor, even an unpalatable one, she couldn’t say no. Hence why she began descending the stairs, fists clenched tight, for she usually travelled the secret passages known only to Tower’s secret guests. At least Tower helped her descend rapidly, turning the steps into a moving escalator. She quickly made it to the main level and strode straight to the Stardust Room, only to find the bed inside empty.
A frown creased her features. “Where did he go?”
A warm breeze caressed her cheek, and she headed back into the entranceway and eyed the huge doors. One of them swung open, indicating where the man had gone.
She exited and scanned the area, noting the sandbox used by the warriors when they needed to be precise in their destination. The warriors, through some star magic she didn’t understand,used a precise set of equations drawn in the sand to land in a specific location.
Past the sandbox, she noticed the moat, a recent addition after an attack a few months ago. The surface didn’t churn in agitation, for there was no threat. At its edge stood a half-dressed man, caked in mud—a combination of the dust and, most likely, blood. The tattoo on his back stood out in stark relief, the scales indicating his sigil.
“Excuse me, Libra, sir.” She called out faintly, and yet in the stillness that accompanied twilight, he heard and whirled.
“Oh, hey. I take it you’re here to drag me back inside.”
“I hardly think I have the size to do so.” The rather large man probably outweighed her by a hundred pounds. “I was ordered to give you a tour.”
“Oh.” He turned away from her. “What is this place?”
“The Tower of Babel?—”
He half turned with a frown. “Yeah, so the other guy said. Only, maybe I don’t remember my history right, but isn’t the Babel thing a myth?”
