This is another story in the Terran Underground series. It occurs right after "The Stuff of Dreams". My sister, Linda, wrote the plot and the first draft of this one, so I thought her name belonged before mine when listing the authors of the story.
Copyright statement: This is an original work by the two authors. Any resemblance to any person, living, dead, or fictional, is unintentional and coincidental. The writers retain all rights to this work, and the copyright may not be infringed.
Anyone wishing for background on this story, go here: http://www.lcficmbs.com/ubb/ultimatebb.php?ubb=get_topic;f=4;t=000002
Honeymoon
By Linda Garrick and Nancy Smith
I
The passenger liner that was docked in the section reserved for the lower species was disgorging its passengers.
Contrary to what might be expected by the description, the passengers of the liner were the well-to-do members of various races, mingling together as they traversed the distance to the Customs building and were scanned for items of contraband. Once beyond the building, porters came running, each one competing for the business of the wealthy travelers.
Alan Westover and his new wife, Lyn Parnell, exited the space terminal and stepped outside, into the bright light of Trachum’s star. The porter who was guiding the antigrav cart with their luggage pointed to the left. “The Bathvill Shuttle boards over there, sir.”
“Lead the way,” Alan said. He took Lyn’s hand and together they followed the mound of their luggage toward the shuttle boarding zone.
Trachum was a Jilectan-owned world, and the aliens had turned it into a vacation paradise. Alan had been here once before, but that had been in the summertime, and on business. It was winter now, and the air was crisp and cold. In the distance he could see a breathtaking winter landscape. Towering mountains, covered in white, were sharply outlined against the shockingly clear, deep blue of the sky. Huge trees in the distance lifted their naked branches against that same sky, interspersed with the dark green fronds of enormous evergreens. Above them the faint, ghostly-pale, ice-frost of Trachum’s rings glittered down at them.
Their shuttle was pulling up in the boarding area, and Lyn and he boarded along with several other passengers.
The Bathvill Lodge was, of course, named for a Jilectan. All the names of the various resort areas were, but some of them had been set aside for patronage by wealthy members of the lesser species. The aliens weren’t above making a profit from the inferior beings that shared the Sector with them. Bathvill Lodge was one of those resorts, located high in the Gronthvor Mountains, and famous for its skiing, hiking and many other winter sports.
They took their seats near the rear of the shuttle and Lyn leaned against his arm. A number of other beings had entered the vehicle, but Alan had barely glanced at them. Lyn’s head was warm against his cheek and he could smell her perfume.
“Do you think Julia and Mark minded?” Lyn asked suddenly. “I mean -- we’re taking a honeymoon. I don’t think Mark did -- but Julia?”
Alan sighed. “I don’t know. I was sort of hoping that Matt would let her. I mean, it’s their honeymoon, too.”
Matt Philips, the Senior Medical Officer at the Lavirra Base had forbidden Julia and Mark Linley to take a honeymoon off-planet. Julia was expecting psychic twins and Philips considered space travel to be too much of a risk, considering the situation. Alan understood his reasoning but it was still hard on the couple -- particularly since Alan and Lyn were taking their honeymoon on Trachum. Alan had almost declined, fearful of generating bad feeling between the two women, but Julia had insisted that they go. She and Mark, Julia had assured them, would take a real honeymoon after the babies were born. Lyn and Alan could baby-sit.
“Their honeymoon, yes,” Lyn said, “but I can see his point. The trip would be a stress on her. Besides, it’s not like the matter was one they couldn’t control.”
“They were in love!” Alan felt a bit shocked at Lyn’s callousness.
“True,” Lyn said. “They were in love *and* careless.”
Lyn could somehow always put such things into perspective. She was romantic, but possessed a practical streak that Alan secretly admired. And, he had to admit, she was right. Mark and Julia had both known the possible consequences of their unbridled passion and had taken the risk, anyway -- and they’d gotten caught. It wouldn’t have made much difference if the indiscretion had resulted in a single conception but Julia came from a long line of twins. She was a twin, as her mother had been, and a great-grandmother as well. Not to mention her twin uncles. And Mark had once mentioned to Alan that his mother, Diane Linley, had spoken of a twin sister whom she had not seen in many years. Where her family had lived, of course, Mark had no idea, since he had lost his mother at the age of six, so his family history remained a virtual blank, but given what was known, it seemed almost inevitable, with the 20-20 vision of hindsight, that their first conception should result in twins.
The transport was cruising up a sloping hillside, dotted with patches of snow. A herd of small, brown creatures scampered away from the low-flying vehicle. They looked, Alan thought, very much like Terran deer.
He glanced casually around at the other passengers, summing them up. There weren’t many. Two Terran males were seated across from them. One was probably in the middle of his first century, lean and supple, with crisp, dark hair and a reserved air. Beside him was a youth of perhaps eighteen, but with a face that would be the envy of teenage males around the Sector. Soft, regular features, a curved, sensitive mouth and dark, soulful eyes. His shoulders were broad and well-muscled but still youthful. Alan caught Lyn’s admiring glance and poked her gently in the ribs, speaking telepathically. *Don’t you think he’s a little young?*
*Of course,* her mental voice spoke back whimsically, *but I can still look.*
Alan grinned, and continued his survey of the other passengers. There were three Procyons a couple of seats ahead -- a female and two males. No doubt they were a noblewoman -- judging by the ribbons on her head-crest -- and two of her husbands. Procyon females took multiple mates and the society itself was matriarchal. Many Terrans disapproved of the system, but it functioned well, and infidelity was unknown among the avian species.
Except for themselves, there was only one other occupant in the shuttle -- a lone man hunched in a seat near the Procyons. He was somewhere in his middle years, Alan saw, thin and wizened, with a sharp, pointed nose and wispy brown hair, thinning somewhat at the temples. He was reading, taking no notice of anything or anyone around him.
They were climbing more steeply now and Alan could feel his ears popping. The scenery below the shuttle sped by in a blur: snow-covered hills swathed in evergreen trees, their branches bearing big puffs of white, and, once, a frozen lake rolled past beneath them. A herd of some large, clumsy animals covered with shaggy, brown fur bolted away from the transport. Alan caught the quick movement of the handsome youth across the aisle and saw him lift a finger, sighting along an imaginary barrel at the beasts. A hunter, he thought. Probably both father and son were here to hunt. Well, they had certainly picked the planet for it. Trachum was as much of a hunter’s paradise as it was one for winter sports.
Another ten minutes went by before the transport slowed abruptly. Ahead, the lodge came into view.
It was a beautiful, rustic setting as advertised in the brochures. The lodge rose up from the snow, dark brown with what appeared to be real log walls and a brick chimney from which smoke drifted. Trachum’s sun was a little past zenith and the snow sparkled blindingly white beneath its rays. Great, dark evergreens stood as a backdrop to the picturesque scene and darker, smaller evergreen shrubbery had been tastefully planted around the windows and pebbled walk. The odor of wood smoke tickled his nostrils.
“Nice,” Lyn said. “It’s even prettier than the pictures in the brochures.”
A pretty girl and a handsome, young man, both clad in furs and bright ski caps, greeted them as they stepped down from the transport. Alan saw the youth who had been seated across from them wink at the girl. She smiled sweetly in return, and together she and her male companion ushered the new arrivals into the lodge.
They crossed the threshold and entered a large, comfortably furnished room. Chairs, couches and love seats were place strategically about, to take advantage of the enormous fireplace. Flames roared in its depths and a thick red and brown patterned rug was spread before it. A young couple was seated on the sofa before it, gazing into each others’ eyes. Obviously newlyweds, Alan thought. Bathvill Lodge was advertised as the most romantic Terran setting on Trachum.
A young man took their hand luggage and set it on an antigrav cart that, Alan saw, bore the remainder of their suitcases. “Mr. and Mrs. Woodruff, if you’ll follow me, please, I’ll show you to your suite.”
They followed him into a lift, accompanied by a second bellboy, also guiding an antigrav cart, and the solitary man that had been on the transport with them. The good-looking youth and his father remained behind, talking to the couple that had greeted them at the transport. They must be regulars here, he thought.
Lyn linked an arm through his and Alan caught the glance of the bellboy. He felt himself flush at the faint grin on the man’s face. The grin widened. “Newlyweds?”
Alan nodded. “Two days ago.”
“Well you came to the right place.” The lift slid to a stop and the doors opened. The bellboy pushed the cart ahead of him into a hallway, and Alan and Lyn followed. “This is a great honeymoon resort. Lots of privacy, and the best skiing on Trachum -- except for the Jils’ resorts, of course.”
The guest that had accompanied them favored the bellboy with a glare, and he stomped away down the hall, the bellboy that had accompanied him hurrying along behind.
Lyn glanced at their own bellboy. The young man shrugged and flashed a derisive grin. The other guest and his escort vanished into a room several doors down. The door closed smartly behind him.
“My goodness!” Lyn said. “What’s his problem?”
“Jil lover,” the boy said, out of the corner of his mouth.
They went with him past the grouchy man’s room and the bellboy paused to insert an electronic key in the lock. The door slid aside, revealing a luxurious room, carpeted in soft, rose plush. A wide bed, covered with a white, furry spread stood against one wall and deep, comfortable-looking armchairs were placed on either side of the huge, bay window. The velvet drapes were pulled aside, letting in the bright sunshine.
“Very nice,” Alan said.
The bellboy set their bags down and crossed the room to glance through a doorway, assuring himself that all was in order. “Okay, folks, ring if you want anything.” He went to the door. Alan tipped him liberally and the panel closed behind him.
Lyn dropped on the bed. “Oh Alan! It’s beautiful! I had no idea it would be this nice.”
“Me, either.” Alan dragged the suitcases to one side. “I guess we can unpack later, huh? It must be lunchtime. I’m getting hungry.”
“Want to go down or order room service?”
“Let’s go downstairs. We can do room service tonight.”
“Okay.”
They showered, changed clothing and went out, arm in arm. As they approached the lift, it swished open and a figure emerged. Alan barely restrained a yelp of surprise.
The newcomer was a Raghiki -- one of the huge, apelike natives of Teecon, in the Vivoron System. He was enormous, towering above the two psychics by well over half a meter and powerfully built, with broad, muscular shoulders and a solid, gorilla-like torso. Brown fur covered him from head to toe, and he was clothed in loose leather gear -- it appeared to be actual animal skins -- and in one large, hairy hand he clutched a laser rifle. Here for the hunting, Alan supposed. The Raghiki were a primitive, blood-thirsty lot. Probably the more savage the kill, the better they liked it. It was a little surprising to see him here, at all, though. Raghiki usually had very little to do with Terrans or any other species. They were isolationists, who detested Terrans, Procyons, Arcturians, and members of any of the other intelligent races across the Sector, equally. The only beings they hated more were the Jilectans, themselves.
The being surveyed them, his small, deep-sunk eyes glaring at them through the shaggy fur. Alan cleared his throat and managed to nod.
The being strode right past them, not acknowledging the greeting. Alan and Lyn stepped into the lift and the doors closed between them. Lyn let out her breath in a long sigh.
“My goodness!” she whispered. “I’ve never seen one up close like that, before. I didn’t realize how *big* they are!”
Alan had had dealings with Raghiki only once in his life but the memory would never fade. “Don’t have any more to do with him than you have to,” he advised her. “Kevin told me they’re an unstable bunch -- not bound much by social restrictions.”
“I’ve heard that. I’m sort of surprised to see one here. Do you suppose he’s alone?”
“Let’s hope so. One’s enough.”
Lyn giggled.
The lift came to a halt and they disembarked. The honeymooning couple was waiting to board, arms around each other, and the girl gave them a lovely smile as they passed. She was very pretty, Alan thought, with waving, strawberry-blond hair and bright green eyes, very close to the shade of his own. Her husband was drab in contrast, with straight, brown hair and light blue eyes, his skin pale and somewhat sallow. Still, he was struck by a certain similarity in feature between them -- the shape of their faces, he thought, and bone-structure.
“Hi,” Lyn said.
The couple paused and the young man restrained the lift door as it tried to close.
The girl’s smile widened, revealing white, straight teeth. “Hello,” she said. “You must be the new arrivals. We heard there were some more honeymooners coming.”
“That’s us,” Lyn said. “Married day before yesterday.”
“It’s been three days for us,” the girl said. “I’m Brandy and this is my husband, Luke.”
“Alan Woodruff,” Alan said, giving the name supplied him by the Underground. “This is my wife, Lyn.”
They shook hands. Brandy grimaced. “Do you know if the Raghiki guy is up there? Luke thought he saw him go into the lift when we came in.”
“He’s there,” Alan said. “He came out of the lift as we went in.”
Brandy made a face. “Let’s wait a few minutes,” she said to her husband. “I don’t want to meet him in the hall.” She spoke to Lyn. “They gave him suite number four. That’s just one door down from us.”
“We’re in number three,” Lyn said.
“Oh good. You’re right next door to us, then -- but he’s right across the hall from you.”
“Really?” Lyn didn’t look particularly upset by the news. “Well, I’m sure he isn’t dangerous or they wouldn’t put him up there, would they?”
Luke spoke for the first time, his voice low and serious. “I don’t think you can ever be quite sure with a Raghiki, Mrs. Woodruff. They can be unpredictable.” He spoke to his wife. “He’s probably in his room by now, honey. Let’s go.”
“Bye!” Brandy waved as her husband ushered her into the lift. The doors closed.
Lyn and Alan crossed the spacious sitting room of the lodge and entered the restaurant. It was a little past lunchtime but a few people were still present. An attractive girl greeted them and escorted them to a booth beside one wall. A wide window next to them gave them a view of the snowy countryside outside the lodge and Alan could see the branches of the evergreens moving gently in the winter air.
He relaxed back against the cushions and smiled across the table at the woman he loved. She smiled dreamily into his eyes.
“Happy honeymoon, Mr. Westover,” she whispered.
**********
tbc
