Xora 2 - "Dangerous Game"

by Brandy Dewinter

 

Chapter 2 - "Official Business"

"Well, so much for matching your eyes," Titania grumped in my ear as we left Jonesy’s office. Then I could "hear" her shift gears and get one of her ideas. "Hey, I can just change your eye color to match *this* uniform instead."

*No you don’t,* I said, more by reflex than anything else.

"Why not?" Titania whined. Geez, you’d think she was a kid told she couldn’t have candy before supper, not a member of her society’s royalty.

"I am not whining," she whined some more, picking up on my mental image.

*Yes you are,* I said, then figured out a reason not to change. "If these Teton people have heard of me, they might have a description. You better leave my hair and eyes like they were on Machovia."

"Oh! Hmmm, you may be right," she admitted grudgingly.

So I was saved from any further unauthorized manipulations of my body at least for a little while. When we got back to my quarters, I said, "We need to go check out this planet. I still think Jonesy wasn’t telling us everything."

"He certainly continued to display signs of duplicity," she agreed.

When we reached my quarters, I called up a briefing file on the planet Teton. I expected to find indications that they embraced the same sort of perversions as the Machovians, and my first impressions were that they had that chauvinistic kink. The scenes in the file showed a technology seemingly stuck centuries in the past. There were wheeled vehicles, for goodness sake!

"How did these people ever get accepted into the Federation?" I asked out loud. "They sure don’t seem to have the technology for warp drive."

"Maybe they have some other special skill or something, like my race does," offered Titania.

"Nothing listed," I said, pointing to the bio classification. "Seems normal Earth human in all the factors."

Then I found an official explanation, and it all made sense - pretty good sense, actually. It turned out that Teton was a secondary colony, founded from the planet Yosemite. The colonization charter established that Teton owed taxes to the mother planet until the costs of colonization were paid back. In order to keep from incurring even *more* debt, Teton had restricted themselves to technology they could sustain with planetary resources. They understood warp drive. They just didn’t choose to use things they couldn’t manufacture and support locally. Even that was not a fanatic barbarism since the report indicated they maintained contemporary medical facilities. Other than that, though, they seemed to be at about the 20^th century level for Earth.

They actually took pride in what they considered their "pioneer spirit" and liked to head into their still-untamed wilderness areas with minimal equipment, living off the land as much as possible. For recreation no less! Still, that wasn’t so bad when you considered where Machovian society had ended up. And it justified their interest in physical fitness.

The next morning I decided to take advantage of my status as a field agent on assignment by checking out a runabout. That would save me trying to arrange passage on some ship headed that way. When I got to the hangar, the admin clerk lost his look of boredom in a hurry.

"What can I do for you?" he asked.

"I need a River-class runabout for some official business."

"Oh, I’m sorry, but the runabouts are all already assigned," he said.

*Well, that’s a disappointment,* I thought.

Titania had her own suggestion though, "Don’t give up so easily.

I’ll be this guy would do almost anything for a smile."

I am NOT going to do some floozy act just to get a special favor, I insisted.

"Why not," she asked. "You’ve got the equipment, and the skills, and who’s to say that the other uses for these vehicles are any more important than yours? In fact, I’ll bet this clerk is the one who decides, so all you have to do is convince him."

I was about to refuse again, but that last point was probably valid. Despite all the policies and procedures ever written, in the end, people ran the Federation. And people found ways around rules.

And I guess I just wanted that runabout. After all, I *was* officially a field agent, even if only half trained.

My silent conversation with Titania had taken only a heartbeat so it seemed like an unforced reaction to the clerk’s statement to put a pout on my full lips and lean over the upside down (to me) screen listing the runabout reservations. My long hair fell down to brush lightly on his hands, and I knew the more-than-ample cleavage that Titania had inflicted on me showed more than clearly through the low, scooped neck of my "uniform".

Glancing up at him through my long lashes, I let the call girl training reflexes out and softly purred, "Surely there is, well, *some* way I could convince you to, um, rearrange your priorities."

The clerk apparently couldn’t make up his mind whether to look at my lips or my cleavage. Of course, with the way I was leaning over the desk, he didn’t have to make much of a choice. Both were almost in a line of sight that continued to the listing of reservations. After I threw in an unnecessary bit of deep breathing, his attention was almost forcibly focused just above the listing.

Another eye-crosser. Was I ever that obvious when I looked at a pretty girl? I hoped not, but something told me that I had been just as bad. How often had a woman done that to me, just for the feeling of power? Probably about as often as I had fallen for the trick. But the memory of the times I’d been on the receiving end of such a show actually made me feel better about it. No one was hurt, and some of those memories had stayed with me for a long time; a long, pleasurable time. In the times I had been like this clerk, I had actually enjoyed the attention of a beautiful woman. Certainly I had never thought poorly of one who would notice me, at least in passing.

The clerk stammered as he tried to wrench his gaze from my bosom. "Uh, let me check. Oh, here’s something. The Wapsi is just coming back on line after cleaning. She was reserved by, well, that’s not important. Anyway, you can have her if you want."

"The Wapsi?" I repeated.

"Yes, well, actually it’s the Wapsipinnicon, which is some river in the Midwest somewhere, but that’s sort of a mouthful."

"Indeed it is," I agreed, offering him one last glimpse at more than a mouthful before standing up straighter.

I let my impressed reflexes loose for a few more moments as I sashayed to the indicated craft, hips loose and hair swinging. I think the guy had earned a little more of a show.

"Little show?" Titania said. "You’re turning into a blatant exhibitionist."

"He enjoyed it," I said.

"Yes, he did," she admitted. "But why did *you* enjoy it?"

"Huh?" But I knew what she had said, and that she was right. Why did I enjoy it? Even as she asked her question, I knew it was more than simply getting my runabout. Pondering that kept me occupied for the relatively short journey at the runabout’s maximum warp. When I dropped back to impulse, I ordered the computer to arrange a landing clearance.

"Unable to comply," the computer voice said. "Planetary landings are prohibited. We are directed instead to enter a holding orbit."

"Why?" I asked.

"Information not available," the computer responded.

Before my sudden selection as a symbiont host, I had made a living arguing with computers. And I knew when it was a waste of time.

"Open a channel to whoever is in charge of planetary access," I demanded.

"Teton Central Control," another voice said, after a moment. This one was human, though. And male, from the sound of it.

"This is Lieutenant Commander Xora, of the Federation. I have permission to visit your planet. In fact, I’ve been invited by your, um, Kommissar Sstton. What’s the hold up?"

"Oh, Commander Xora, welcome to Teton," said the voice of Teton Central Control. "I’m sorry, but planetary regulations prohibit landings by visiting vessels. Are you aware of our technology restrictions?"

"Yes, I think so," I said, "but I’m not planning on importing anything."

"Good, and thank you," the voice said politely. "Still, I’m sure you can understand that while we don’t think you would deliberately break our laws, it’s easier for everyone if we just keep such things off our planet in the first place."

"Very well," I said. "I’ll beam down if you give me the coordinates."

The voice hesitated, then said, "I’m, um, sorry, but we need to restrict transporter use, too. If you’ll lower your shields, I’ll beam you down from here."

*Geez, these guys are paranoid!* I grumped silently to my partner. Setting the autopilot and checking my communicator, I stood back from the controls. "Whenever you’re ready," I said.

The shimmer cut my vision for a moment. When it cleared, I saw a simple arrival platform and a single waiting visitor. On the other hand, he might as well have been a whole squad.

"That is the biggest man I have ever seen," Titania said.

*You can say that again,* I agreed.

Of course, she didn’t get it. "Why should I repeat myself? Didn’t you hear me the first time?"

*Uh, never mind,* I said. Then stepped forward.

"Kommissar Sstton?" I asked.

"No," the man said, a frown fixed on his face. Then he introduced himself. "I’m Inspector Darius. Since we didn’t know exactly when you’d arrive, the Kommissar is at his ranch. He sends his apologies and assures you that he’ll be here for the reception this evening."

"Oh, that’s quite all right," I said, looking up to the huge man. I think he was at least two meters tall, and yet he looked stocky. Not fat, mind you. He looked like he had been carved out of granite, with a square, bearded jaw over a thick neck above boulders for shoulders and pillars for legs.

His frown hadn’t gone away when I had accepted the missing dignitary’s apology. Something about his attitude said he was not as impressed with my appearance as I was with his.

"Inspector Darius," I said. "You are the one in charge of the investigation into the missing women."

"Yes," he replied curtly.

"And you don’t like Federation busy bodies meddling in your business," I offered, guessing why he was still irritated.

"Yes," he said, just as curtly. And that’s all he said. No polite acceptance of the arrangement, no offer to work together despite his feeling it was unnecessary. Nothing.

*Well, up yours, asshole,* I thought. I didn’t care if he liked the idea or not. I was here under orders, same as he was.

I lifted an eyebrow in question, glancing briefly at the door out of the transporter room. Two could play at the silent game.

He turned without a further comment and walked away, leaving me to follow or not as I chose.

*Stupid jerk is probably solid stone between the ears, too,* I said as I followed. Of course, he was taking strides appropriate for his long legs and while mine were long for my new body, my heels still restricted my stride to a lot less than his. As a result, I had to scurry along behind him like a child.

"Hold it," I demanded. He turned to look back. "I don’t give a rat’s ass whether you like working with me or not. I didn’t ask for this assignment, and I don’t see how I can help. But there is no reason we can’t be professional about this. Starting with you being just a bit more polite."

"You’re the famous runner," he said. "Keep up."

"I’m built for endurance, not for speed," I claimed, throwing my hips to the side and giving him a bit of profile. He might not like my insertion in to his investigation, but by God if he was a man, I’d get his attention one way or another.

"Endurance?" he snorted in disbelief. "Right." Without another word he turned back to his path, though he did walk at a more reasonable pace.

*I’ll run you into the ground, Bozo,* I promised myself. Little knowing how true that was going to be.

Over his shoulder, Darius said, "I’m on my way to the last known location of the most recently abducted woman. If you’re not too tired from your trip, I suppose you might as well come along. If not, I’ll arrange a room for you to rest up."

"I’m fine," I said stiffly. We got into a stinky wheeled vehicle right out of a historical drama. I had this feeling that he was supposed to open my door for me or something, but he just climbed in and waited impatiently for me to figure out the manual latch. Instead of helping, he fiddled with the controls and a rumble started, shaking the, uh, car I think it was called.

"What’s wrong?" I asked in alarm.

"Nothing," Darius said. The machine surged forward and we were soon rolling down a river of poured stone.

*Right, nothing’s wrong,* I thought. *Inertial dampers are broken, the thing is so far out of alignment it’s producing vibrations you can actually *feel* and the smell is getting worse.*

"Maybe it’s supposed to be that way," Titania murmured in my ear.

*Who would do that deliberately?* I asked her.

"Apparently the Tetons," she answered logically. I’d have strangled her if I could figure out how to do it.

My big "escort" pulled up near a building and got out, leaving me once again to keep up as well as I could. There was a uniformed officer of some sort standing near the entrance, who nodded at Darius then gave me a decidedly longer look.

"Who’s the lady?" he asked.

Darius answered, "This is Federation Field Agent Lieutenant Commander Xora. She’s come to help us hicks figure out what’s been happening to our women, since we’re too dumb to figure it out on our own."

"Oh," the officer said. Quietly. Then he whispered to Darius. I heard, though, thanks to Titania’s help.

"Tell you what, Darius, you invent some reason she needs to stay with me. We’ll find a way to pass the time."

"She *is* a looker," Darius whispered back. He noticed! How about that? "But I don’t have time for games. I’ll let her tag along as ordered until she gets back in her fancy spacecraft and goes back to wherever she came from. Hopefully she won’t get in the way too much."

By this time I had figured out the inside part of the mechanical door latch, gotten out of the vehicle, and was close enough that they stopped their whispering. I was tempted to make some smart remark about their comment, but why should I let them know anything about my augmented senses?

Darius nodded at the officer, who seemed to believe he might someday be called to give a detailed description of me. Certainly his eyes were dissecting every atom of my new form. I put a little extra sway into my walk as I followed Darius into the building, satisfied with the look of discomfort the man showed.

Titania snickered in my ear while I tried to catch up to Darius, "You’ll hurt somebody that way."

*Serves him right,* I answered, but a bit of her amusement leaked through and I felt my own attitude easing up.

That didn’t last long. Another man guarded a doorway down a starkly lit hallway. Darius nodded as he entered, but the man stopped me.

"Can I help you, miss?" he said.

"Darius, I’m getting tired of this," I said past him.

"Oh, she’s with me," Darius admitted.

"Lucky you," the guard said.

"Hardly," we said, Darius and I, in perfect unison.

The guard snickered. Neither Darius nor I joined him.

Once we were inside I tried once again to establish a more positive relationship with my supposed colleague. "Look, Darius, I’m not here to make you look bad. I’ve honestly never been involved in a criminal investigation before. I’m only here because your Kommissar requested that I come, and my boss agreed based on what *I* could learn from you about how to investigate a crime. So, could you just knock that chip off your shoulder and let me do my job?"

Darius stopped in his prowling around the room and looked at me for a moment. I didn’t try to put any artificial simper into my voice, or into my expression. I was irritated, not apologetic. But if the big idiot continued to ignore me, we truly would end up wasting both his time and mine.

"Very well," he said, after a moment. Then he began a briefing that showed his orderly, detail-focused mind.

"The tenant of this apartment, Kanda Lanney, was last seen four days ago. Her building superintendent called us this morning when her mail had accumulated so much it wouldn’t fit in her mailbox. We’ve had a preliminary sweep by a forensics team, but they didn’t find anything particularly noteworthy. I’m just trying to get a ‘feel’ for the woman; to see if I can determine where she might have gone that led to her disappearance."

With that he went back to his walk through the apartment, glancing at the titles of old-fashioned printed books, looking at souvenirs neatly arranged on a shelf. There had apparently been a struggle, but it was clearly localized. A table and chair were upset, a lamp broken; but aside from the obvious damage the rest of the apartment was quite tidy. A glance in the bedroom showed a neatly made bed, no clothes on the floor, no piles of paper anywhere. The broken lamp seemed very discordant, very wrong in such a well-kept place.

"What’s the matter?" Titania asked, picking up on my feeling.

*It just seems like a shame to leave a mess in such a clean home,* I said, walking over to see if there were anything I could do.

It’s funny how that mess seemed to make the whole corner of the place seem so dirty.

*Wait a minute,* I thought. *That’s it! Not all of this dirt is from the lamp, but it’s the only place in here that’s not clean.*

*Can you help me with this? I asked Titania.

"Help? How?" she asked in turn.

*Oh, I don’t know. See if there is anything unusual about the debris. It just seems so out of place.*

Titania triggered a deep breath, then suggested I get down on my hands and knees. "I smell something that I haven’t noticed before," she said.

 There was one clump of dried mud that was large enough to pick up, and I held it close to look at it. Titania seemed to drink in the odor, through my nose, and then gave a chemical analysis. "There’s sulfur in here, and methane, and fairly complex hydrocarbons. And, um, something from live plants. Frankly, in stronger concentrations this would stink."

"What have you got?" Darius asked, surprising me.

"Just a clump of dirt," I said, showing him. "It seemed out of place."

"Maybe dirt is strange on your fancy Federation worlds, but here we have a planet full of it," he snorted.

"Not in this apartment," I said. "I’ll bet if you checked, there may be dust, but no clumps of mud anywhere but right here where the struggle was."

"Hmmm," he muttered. He got down on his own hands and knees and looked more closely at the floor.

"You may be right," he admitted. I suppose I might have been expecting a bit of congratulatory tone, but at least he wasn’t snide again. Then I realized he was concentrating too hard for any sort of emotional overtones.

"May I see that?" he asked.

I handed it to him, and then reported on Titania’s findings. "It seems to have some sulfur, and lots of hydrocarbons."

Darius looked surprised and asked, "How can you tell? I didn’t see you use any of your Federation gimmickry."

"Oh, you can smell it, if you have a sensitive nose," I said lightly. *Thanks, Ti,* I thought to her, glad to have made this Neanderthal pay attention.

"Ah, yes," he said. He took out a little container and put the dried mud into it. For a long moment he continued to study the floor, then he looked up at me and for the first time met my gaze directly. "Thank you," he said.

That wasn’t much, but it was more than he’d given me until then. I decided I’d return the courtesy with a smile, then stood up.

"I hope it will help you," I said, dusting off the front of my boots.

Then I figured I had better take advantage of his perhaps momentary politeness by asking about the reception. "Um, Inspector, what time do we need to be at the reception, and where is it?"

"Oh, yeah," he said, standing himself. "I suppose we should be getting ready. I’ll take you back to the transporter, so you can go to your spacecraft and get changed."

I looked at the standard uniform I was wearing, well, more or less standard. A bit tighter, a bit shorter in the skirt, but not so much so that I had felt unusually out of place.

"What’s wrong with this?" I asked.

"Oh, the reception is formal, black tie," he replied. Like that told me anything at all.

"Uh, black tie you say?"

"Of course," he confirmed. Then he gave me a bit of a smile, a rather interesting expression on that chiseled face. "Nothing but the best for the famous Federation Field Agent Lieutenant Commander Xora."

"Oh, give me a break," I snapped. Once upon a time I dreamed of such a lofty title, but the way he said it showed how hollow a title was without the respect to go with it.

"I’m sorry," Darius said, apparently sincere. Then he continued, "I understand your concern. I’m not big on formal affairs, either, but that’s what the Kommissar ordered. Have you got an appropriate gown?"

"If not, it’d be the *only* thing not big about him," Titania interrupted with a giggle only I could hear.

*Quiet,* I ordered. Like I had any authority over her. Ha!

Speaking aloud to Darius, I said, "Um, well, no, not really, but if you show me the correct style, I suppose I can replicate something on my runabout."

Darius frowned at the mention of replicator technology, but he didn’t say anything. Well, I wasn’t going to sell the thing. Or even leave it behind. He walked over to the books on the missing girl’s shelves and found some sort of fashion report. Flipping through several pages, he pointed out something he seemed to think was appropriate.

"Here, this is what the entertainment stars all wear. You’re invited because of fame rather than family or local political power, so that should be about right. And certainly you’ve got the figure for it."

"Nice of you to notice," I muttered as I looked at the image he had pointed out. His hand jerked just a bit as he heard me, but to his credit he made no other response.

"I like the red one," Titania said in my ear.

*You would,* I said silently. *It looks like it will split at the seams if she takes a deep breath.*

"Exactly!" Titania said.

*What about this one?* I asked my secret partner, trying to get her to consider one that was a lot less, um, intimate with the wearer.

"Not on a bet," Titania said. "We’ll never get this handsome inspector into bed with us if you wear that."

I almost dropped the magazine, screaming inside my head at Titania, *Not in a million years! Not under any circumstances! If I had known you were thinking that way about this one, too, I’d have . . ."

I ran down, though. What could I do? I was stuck with my symbiont and she seemed to be stuck with her lust. I guess I hadn’t really looked at Darius that way, until she mentioned it. I had thrown him a few wiggles, out of habit more than conscious plan, but I had been so irritated with his arrogance that I thought I was safe from Titania’s planning. I should have know better. Just as I should have known that she’d insist on the most provocative style. I never should have let her get a download from Bee on Tryx’s propensities.

I sighed, looked at Darius, and said, "You’re sure this is appropriate?"

"Hmmm, oh, yes, sure," he said. "How long will it take you to get ready?"

"After I’m back at my runabout, only a few minutes," I promised.

He looked at me like I was crazy, but he nodded and said, "Well, just in case it takes a bit longer than that, we’d better be moving on."

This time, he gave a little wave for me to precede him out the door.

Goodness, there might be some manners in there, yet, I mused to myself.

Titania listened in, of course, and offered her unwanted observation, "From the look of his pants, there’s a lot more than manners in there."

 

(continued in part 3)

 

 

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© 1999 by Brandy Dewinter. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.