“I guess it is. I’d prefer it if Xracak City isn’t though,” I say, getting up from my chair and sauntering to the door, with the bulk of Driok behind me.
“Whatever you want, my little mate, you get,” he says in my ear, heating me up from the inside in a different way this time.
“And what if I want another horc?” I ask.
The muscles in Driok’s jaw work overtime.
“Perhaps,” he says, with impressive restraint.
I burst out with laughter, just as two tall, thin purple aliens walk past us as if on stilts. They turn their decidedly insect-like faces toward me, and one of them releases a series of clicks and burrs which absolutely does not translate.
Driok puts his arm over my body and growls. I see his tail lashing in my peripheral vision as they hurry away.
“What was all that about?”
“I don’t speak Viok. But those things consider far too many species as a snack. They will not look at you again.”
I don’t quite understand myself sometimes because, despite being told I could be eaten at any time, my body is buzzing with excitement to see something of Xracak City other than the inside of our quarters.
I might not like the urban, but this is so very different from Vorostor, and if we will be leaving…it would be a shame not to enjoy what I see.
The hangar opens out into what appears to be a sort of alien shopping mall. It sort of reminds me of a beehive in the pale-yellow coloration and that there are hundreds upon hundreds of alcoves, all of them inhabited by a myriad of stores. A massive atrium rises above, the alcoves arranged in a hexagon shape. Here and there are windows letting in the light from the suns. The air smells artificial and of ozone, so I’m surprised when I see what looks like an open charcoal barbecue where food sizzles without scent.
Driok flares his nostrils as we pass it.
“Why can’t I smell anything?” I say quietly. “It’s weird.”
“Many species have a very sensitive sense of smell. The owners of this place have chosen to use scent diminishers in order to attract more customers.”
“So, no one can smell anything?”
“No.”
“Not even you?”
“I can still find your scent,” Driok says in a low, deep baritone. “I could make you out anywhere.”
I am not sure what to make of his announcement, but before I can reply, a great shaggy creature, part bison, part hippo steps in front of us. It has a bright gold sash across its chest which looks incongruous against the dark, messy fur.
“Lord Driok,” it says though huge teeth. “You are to come with me…and bring your pet.” He looks at me.
“Not a pet.” I finger the ray gun in my pocket, pushing the outline against my clothing, which the creature notices immediately.
“Maggie is my elite guard, and she has a bite so venomous no one has ever recovered,” Driok says smoothly. “So, I suggest you do not refer to her as apet.”
“As you wish. The massive thing lumbers away. “But the baron will not want to be kept waiting.”
MAGGIE
Driok lets me go ahead as we follow the mound of fur, which sort of reminds me of something I saw at the movies once, but squatter and, I expect, smellier, only we can’t smell anything.
I’m grateful for small mercies given my sense of smell seems to be hyper ever since I got pregnant.
However, it’s fun acting the part of Driok’selite guard, and I swagger past various other alien species who all turn to watch our progress, more probably for the big hairy guide than anything, but even so, it’s rather amusing, especially as Horace has left me, presumably to go chew wiring somewhere.
We’re taken into one of the alcoves where two more of the massive fur hippo/bison are standing guard. These two are armed with large rifle-style ray guns.
“You’ll need to check your weapon.” Our guide says to me.
