So It Begins (42 page)

  Even after being on the ship and in close quarters, it was nothing like this immersion, overloading his senses with the smell of these people—there were so many. Vanner felt a little claustrophobic, but calmed himself. As he felt he was in control of his senses, he easily slipped away from his buddies and further into the crowd. He did not watch or look for any of them because he had no intentions in staying with them.

  This was his first real liberty and he was going to have fun by exploring the outer areas of the city and not the inner areas where the bulk of the soldiers would congregate. He headed off in the direction that he had memorized from the map which was right on the border of the green and red areas. He was planning to live on the edge both figuratively and literally on this shore leave and he was determined to have his fun.

  The crowds thinned exponentially the further he got from the city and the closer he got to the red area marked in the map. In a few minutes, he found what he was looking for—a drinking establishment. He knew enough that a place in this location would have information he would find useful in his further explorations.

  He went inside and stepped up to the bar. His military training kicked in and he automatically assessed the environment. There were about twenty people there. The bartender appeared human by all respects and probably was. He watched him carefully for a few seconds and thought that some of his movements and actions gave away that perhaps the guy was a retired soldier. He knew that it was a common occurrence for soldiers to retire off earth and open up bars. It was one of the many traditions of military service. Heck, they spent so much time in them when they were on active duty that it only made sense for them to open one when they finally retired. It was a perverse logic, but it seemed to work. Yet the longer Vanner watched him, the more something seemed off about the man. Then Vanner finally got it: he was wearing dark glasses and by the way he moved Vanner believed that he was blind.

  He took his eyes from the bartender and scanned the remaining people. They were a mixture of just about every other alien race that he had seen. If he eliminated the standard humanoid, those that looked completely human with the exception of some minor deviations such as hair or skin color, eye and/or ear location, the number of digits that they possessed and where they were located and things like that, that left about half of the patrons which consisted of many races found throughout the galaxy. He ran them through his memory to see if he could remember them all.

  There were Betas, a green reptilian-type of creature, Carsos, an aquatic life form with skin of a bluish color that was comprised of a material very much like fish scales. Mennons which were a cow-like creatures but walked upright like a humanoid; a Kanggren, which was a race of only females, the male not required for reproduction so they were considered useless and therefore killed off centuries ago in order to reduce the population. He didn’t think he would be hanging around them too much. There was also a Fritzer, a bat-like creature which did in fact subsist on blood, but only the blood of one specific creature on their home planet. When they traveled they literally had to bring their own food with them in order to survive—any other blood would kill them instantaneously.

  “What’ll it be?” the bartender asked.

  “An ale . . . and some information,” Vanner said, as he placed a universal twenty in the hand of the bartender.

  The bartender used his hand and traced the edged imprint with his fingers along the bill. “Sure,” he said as he pocketed the twenty and then poured the drink. He placed the glass on the bar. Vanner took a quick mouthful.

  “The name is Breeze,” the bartender began, “retired ten years ago from the infantry. Lost my sight in the Grimore campaign.” He extended his hand to Vanner and they shook. “Boy, you’re a cool one,” he added.

  “The glass is cold,” said Vanner.

  “So it is,” agreed the bartender.

   “My name is Vanner. So, where can I find some fun?”

  “What did you have in mind?” Breeze asked. His tone seemed reminiscent, as if he recalled asking that question himself on numerous occasions.

  “Maybe something sweet tasting in the range of female company,” Vanner offered.

  “Sure,” Breeze agreed, smiling. “Been a while, huh?”

  “Yeah—you could say that,” Vanner agreed.

  The bartender took a small card from under the bar and handed it to Vanner. “Here’s the place that I recommend. It’s a little pricey, but you get what you pay for. You don’t want any of the cheap stuff—lots of rumors there; some genetic oddities of some sort. Anyway, this place is a good one—one of the best.”

  “Thanks,” Vanner said, as he chugged the remainder of his drink and rose from his chair.

  “Hope you find something to your taste. Take advantage of it while it lasts.”

  “Time is not an issue for me, I’m perpetually young,” Vanner said, and turned to leave. Once outside he chuckled about Breeze’s comment as he hailed a cab as it was going by.

  The cab was cigar-shaped, long and skinny. He got in and the door closed loudly, the sound reverberating in his ears. The cab driver was human, for the most part. The extra digit on each hand was probably very useful in his profession.

  “Where to?”

  Vanner handed him the card, the driver looked at it, smiled, then handed it back without a word.
Some things just don’t need explaining
, Vanner thought, as he sat back in the seat and considered what he hoped to find where he was going.

   The cab came to a stop and Vanner got out. “Thanks,” he said, and paid the driver. He checked the number on the card, 1432, and looked to find the corresponding door. He saw it and walked up to it. He found the announcing mechanism and pushed it in and waited. In a few moments the door opened. The lighting was not the best. It was hard to tell exactly what she looked like, but Vanner could tell that the outline of her body was mighty fine.

  He handed her the card and said, “I was told that I could find some company here.”

  The woman looked up from the card and her free hand moved to a switch on the wall. She flipped it up and a light directly over him came on.

  He could see her now and what he had perceived in the dim light was even better in full visibility. She appeared to be human in most regards, but her skin color was a distinct blue and her eyes were each a different color. He found the contrast to be quite exhilarating.

  “Are you human?” she asked as she looked at him closely as if she was a doctor and he was the patient.

  “Yes, of course. I am human,” he answered.

  “You look very pale—almost white. You sick. Are you anemic or something?”

  “I’m a soldier—I am not allowed to get sick,” he said, and then laughed briefly at his own joke.

  Her expression became more speculative.

  “That was a joke,” he said, “lighten up, will you . . .”

  “You don’t look right to me,” she said. “I don’t take risks with any of my employees. I haven’t seen any soldiers that are this pale—it’s not natural.”

  “Not natural?” he said, leaning in closer toward her. “Can I point out to you that
blue
is a bit of an odd color for a person. Besides, what risks? I’m fine, honey,” he said. “And I have plenty of money to spend. You interested or not?”

  “I don’t like your color,” she said, again. “I think you’re one of those monsters I hear about from the ship.”

  Vanner bit his tongue and simply said, “I’m just a soldier, lady, looking to have some fun,” he insisted.

  “No, I have made up my mind. You are one of them—murderer—with no soul. You not allowed in—go away!” She said and slammed the door.

  “I’ll be damned,” he said. “Now that has to be a first: turned away at a brothel. What are these worlds coming to?”

  He walked away from the door and when he was back at the street he hailed another cab. One pulled up and he got inside. The driver asked, “What’s the destination?”

  “Well after a miserable first attempt, I was hoping you might know some places where I can find some interesting companionship?” Vanner slipped another universal twenty from his pocket and handed it to the driver.

  “I might know a place,” the driver said.

  The cab driver drove into the sector that, according to Vanner’s map, was well into the area marked red on the map. Although Vanner knew it was wrong, it didn’t really seem a problem so long as he didn’t get caught. What was the old expression?
It’s easier to beg for forgiveness than to ask for permission.
Right now, neither one was on the top of his list. He checked his watch; he still had a good six hours before sunrise.
Plenty of time
, he thought.
Plenty of time
.

  Vanner stared out the window of the cab and into the darkness as the areas they drove through became less and less lighted. The circular buildings became darker and the amount of litter and debris in the streets more abundant. They also lacked the labeling color. Vanner figured that this part of town was probably one of the older sections, and either didn’t want the orderliness of the city or it didn’t care. Either way, he thought that the situation was promising for him and his mission.

  In a few more minutes, the cab came to a stop. The driver leaned over and pointed out the window, “Up those stairs and to the right. There will be a door at the end of the hall. Knock on it three times and show whoever answers the door this.” He handed Vanner a business card.

  “Last time I used one of these, it didn’t go very well,” Vanner said, as he looked at the card.

  “It’ll be fine. Now go, I have another fare,” the cabbie said, as the dispatcher’s voice echoed from the small speaker in the front of the cab. “I’m not supposed to be in this area.”

   Vanner nodded and said, “Thanks.”

  He stepped out of the cab and made his way up the stairs. When he got to the top, he turned back in the direction he had come and saw that the cabbie had already left. Vanner continued to the door at the end of the hall. He knocked three times and waited.

  “What?” a voice said, through the door.

  “I have a card,” Vanner said, “from the cab driver.”

  “Slide it under the door,” the voice replied.

  “Okay—here you go,” he slid the small paper through the thin slot. A few seconds later he heard the sound of locks being unlatched and the portal finally opening. A woman . . . or a reptile that looked like a woman, depending on your perspective, stood in the threshold.
A Beta,
Vanner thought, well a Beta with a great body as his eyes scanned her, a very nicely shaped body, but he didn’t think he could get intimate with something that looked like it preferred to be crawling across a desert somewhere.

  “Ah . . . well, perhaps the cabbie made a mistake,” Vanner began. “I was looking for something a little more human.”

  “We have all kinds here, soldier boy,” she said. “Don’t worry about that. I’m just the welcoming wagon and screener, if you know what I mean.” She tapped the side of her body and it made the sound that reminded him of body armor. “Thick enough to stop standard rounds.”

  “Is there a need for such . . . precautions?” asked Vanner.

  “Usually not,” she answered, “but it never hurts to be prepared. Let’s say that sometimes there are visitors that don’t agree with our policies, so by the time they finish with me, those issues have been pretty much resolved.”

  “I can see how that might be,” he said, and smiled.

  Suddenly the reptilian woman stared intently at his face. Her eyes did not waver and her tongue made a swishing motion back and forth, as if she were agitated. Finally she asked, “What’s wrong with your teeth?”

  “My teeth?” he asked. “Why, nothing is wrong with my teeth. They’re good enough for the Corps.”

  “Your canines are very pointed.”