The Alien Trace [Cord 01] (9 page)

    "Mmmm…" Fyrrell frowned, eyeing the dinner he'd barely touched, while he radiated concern, suspicion, and a tinge of fear.

    Cord and his mother exchanged glances. "Why don't you go for a walk? You need the exercise," she suggested pointedly. "Have you seen Bird lately?"

    Cord was startled, then briefly angry at his mother's change of mood. He gulped down the rest of his drink and picked up a handful of the tidbits. Broadcasting reproach, Cord left.

    There was a large park east of the river, forming a barrier between the commercial sections and the expensive suburbs. It was a place where all classes of Mehirans could mingle, and it was here that he'd first met Bird. Their favorite place was a shady grove of sea-green trees and cascading vines with tiny white starflowers. A small brook ran through the grove, flowing over a special stone bed in a miniature mountain torrent. There the spray made the tiny rock faces glow green with a mossy night growth that shone softly in the night. In the daytime, the spray formed rainbows in the sun.

    By the time he arrived in that western section of the park, it was well into the night. The phosphorus-yellow streetlamps stood like giant matchsticks along the path. He passed only a few strollers, mostly arm-in-arm couples. It made him long for Bird.

    There was only one person sitting by the waterfall, gently bathed in the light of the green-glow moss. It was a woman, sitting in profile, wearing a beautiful and expensive shimmering shift. Was it Bird? His heart leaped at the stab of love such a thought brought him. He could not control the feeling, and the woman turned, startled, as the emotion touched her.

    Yes, it was Bird! She had been sitting on a boulder scooped out to form a comfortable bench. When she sighted him coming up the path, she jumped up and ran to meet him.

    "Cord," she breathed in his ear, throwing her arms around his broad shoulders and neck. "It's good to see you-you've been busy for so long!" she exclaimed.

    "You know how it is," he said lamely. "I've missed you."

    "I've missed you, too." She reached up to rub him behind the ears, stroking the downy fur that covered them.

    They walked back to the bench, arms around each other. Bird's body was soft and warm; it made him long for its familiar and inviting recesses.

    They talked and joked, exchanged gossip and plans for future excursions. By a silent but mutual understanding, they avoided Cord's profession, the Speaker's unstated disapproval, and how their relationship could work in the future. There was enough to talk about for quite a while, but when they had run out of words the conversation faltered and died: they were well attuned to each other. One of Bird's hands rested on his thigh. It tensed and slid upward.

    "It's been too long," she breathed.

    Cord suddenly realized that it had, indeed, been too long. Filled with a quick heat, he pulled her closer yet, his hands touching her everywhere.

    "Not many here at this hour," Bird whispered. "But- maybe we'd be more private under the trees."

    How they got there, Cord could not remember later. Screened from the open spaces by low-hanging branches and leafy shrubs, Cord ran his hands up under her short, loose gown. He felt himself responding to the pressure of her hips and the sweet scent of her perfume. This time, neither of them bothered to undress. Bird's thin tunic, pulled up over her downy stomach, gave Cord easy access. He positioned himself between her thighs as Bird thrust up her hips to meet him. Cord's tail slipped underneath her buttocks to tease her.

    He tongued her neck and shoulders, her breasts and nipples, holding back as long as he could, feeling her mind empty of all but pleasure. When he exploded far up inside her, their mutual ecstasy was all he knew.

    They lay in each other's arms, unspeaking, until Bird giggled and suggested a new position she'd just heard about. The second time was slower, the edge having been polished off their desire, and longer, as Cord's contorted body fulfilled every expectation of the new posture she'd demanded. When it was over, they lay exhausted, watching the stars come out.

    "It's getting late, Cord. We'd better get ourselves together."

    "You're right," he said, releasing her and sitting up. Bird rose, brushed herself off, and shook out her gown.

    "Those are pretty bracelets," Cord observed. He had not noticed them earlier-but he'd been thinking of other things. Everyone wore bracelets sometimes, and Bird wore them often, but these were unusual enough to be memorable. They were broad, silvery bands set with a design of unfaceted gems in several colors. In the light, they flashed like tiny rainbows. Surely he'd seen a similar design recently…

    "Aren't they? My father brought them from the spaceport. They would be beautiful no matter who made them, but their having come from another world makes them even more intriguing."

    "How did he get them?" Cord asked curiously. The humans usually offered rare metals or practical goods in trade. According to the Council, the humans were supposed to supply materials which would aid Mehira's development.

    "He was given them," Bird replied, checking her braid for bits of twig and leaf.

    "I see," he said, untruthfully. Still, he couldn't claim to be an expert on the humans' behavior. He could not imagine Hamilton K or Stev Greffard giving anything away unless they expected something in return. But there were other humans he had not met at all, and so could not judge. Too, Cord's parents were there to trade; they were top professionals, but not persons of importance and dignity like Bird's father. Perhaps the Terrans gave gifts to curry favor.

    As they walked down the path, Bird frowned. "You know, Cord, I wish my father had a love-friend. He's missing so much"-she linked her arm through his and snuggled closer- "being close, having someone to talk and laugh with, even having someone to share worries with."

    "Maybe he hasn't met anyone he really likes," Cord suggested.

    "It's been six years since my mother died. That should be long enough to meet someone. After all, he wouldn't have to live with her, but at least he would have someone to relax with once in a while. No, I think the fact is, Mother's death hurt him so much he doesn't want to open up to anyone again."

    "And that worries you," Cord said. He understood-he was shy of revealing himself to strangers, too. He caught an echo of Bird's concern and squeezed her hand in silent reassurance.

    "Well, it doesn't seem natural. And if he had a love-friend, I could talk to her. She could help me watch out for him."

    "Your father seems self-contained. Besides, what if you didn't like the friend he chose?" Cord asked, hoping to tease her out of her anxiety.

    "At least I wouldn't feel that I was the only one taking care of him. I don't
mind
doing it-but what will he do when I establish my own career? He'll be so lonely."

    "Perhaps he's self-sufficient and doesn't need anyone. Not like me…" Cord stopped as they reached the edge of the park and caressed Bird's deliriously curved body. His fingers brushed lightly over the straining tips of her breasts; she took his hand in hers and kissed his fingers, smiling.

    "I must go home," she said. "My father is waiting."

    "I will see you again." It was more of a statement than a question.

    She tweaked his ear and ran off, to her side of the river. Cord watched her disappear in the darkness, then he trudged off, to his own part of the city.

    

    

    A feeling of expectancy mixed with joy touched Cord as he passed the door of the dwelling unit. His mood lightened immediately, responding to the irresistible emotional power.

    Fyrrell and Neteel emerged from the workroom. Even if he had been deaf to their psychic emissions, their expressions would have prepared him for the news.

    "It works," Neteel said without preamble. Her golden-brown eyes shone.

    "I knew it would," Fyrrell added. "Your mother is the foremost inventor on Mehira, and if she had devoted her time to medical devices, she would have been famous as such long ago."

    "But if I had, I might not have known you," she pointed out.

    "I only wish you had not had to give up so much, 'Teel."

    "It's been worth it, Fyr."

    The warmth of their mutual affection enveloped him for a moment, making Cord hope that there would be someone who would feel the same way about him after twenty years of marriage.

    He asked, to cover his wistful thought and because he was curious, "Now that it works, may I know what it does?"

    Neteel and Fyrrell exchanged delighted looks, and Neteel laughed.

    "Basically, the instrument registers, interprets, and translates into the code of one's own brain."

    "Basically," Fyrrell corrected, "your mother means it reads minds."

    "'It actually reads minds? The way people read emotion? Telepathy?" Cord was astounded. The possibility had been speculated upon by various natural philosophers who suggested that by training the mind in certain ways or by using certain drugs, one would be able to feel thoughts as readily as emotions. No one had proved successful in the attempt, although a few had claimed partial success. The idea of using a machine to achieve the purpose was new.

    "It really does," his mother assured him. Her pride was evident, but she remained honest. "It's necessary to be in physical contact with the other, however. In time, I expect to overcome that problem."

    Cord's tail swished in excitement. What an advantage it would give them! And when Neteel perfected it-he felt no doubt in the matter-they could even walk through a crowd and pick out those who were merely contemplating theft or violence. One point occurred to him.

    "Is it portable?"

    "Come and see." Neteel beckoned him into the workroom.

    Sitting on the bench was a small spheroid; it reminded Cord of a miniature moon with peaks and craters. It was about the size of a fist, with uneven projections and what looked like indentations for fingers. Cord noted the signs of his mother's workmanship: the use of objects which could be bought cheaply or found in scrap bins. It gave the device a rough, unfinished look.

    Neteel positioned her fingertips in the depressions, then reached out to touch Cord's arm.

    "… first Bird and now this. We'll be rich and the Speaker won't object… looks like a toy from the trash… in trouble with the Council… Bird unhappy and me too… this is real… it works… I don't-one, two, three, four, but the walls are brown and it's so hard to concentrate on one thing when you're trying to-"

    Cord took a hasty step back, breaking the contact. Abruptly, Neteel's calm voice stopped announcing his thoughts.

    "See how it works?" she asked, after a pause.

    "Ancestors! I didn't realize it would be like that."

    "It's frightening," Fyrrell admitted. "When she told me what I was thinking, I was embarrassed, then angry and afraid-and I was prepared for it!"

    "Here, you try it." Neteel held out her hand. Reluctantly Cord took the device and fitted his fingers into the depressions while his mother still held it. Their fingers touched.

    Thoughts ran through Cord's brain, and they were not his own.

    They were only partly verbal, but they were clear enough:
… greater efficiency with money to give Fyr a rest he needs one we all do want the best for Cord being poor bad enough but to see Fyrrell treated like dirt because he does the dirty work
… Then a string of mathematical equations Cord knew he could solve, but they were gone in the rush of thought. It was going to take some getting used to, this rush of mindflow. The kaleidoscope tumble and jumble ended as though cut off by a knifeblade. Cord became aware that his mother was no longer touching his hand.

    "Amazing," he said, awed not only by his mother's invention but by its myriad possibilities.

    Fyrrell plucked the spheroid from his hand. "Let's celebrate with a modest banquet from the cookshop. Fried melon seeds, fish dumplings, melon in aspic, bean cakes, and some kind of soup, I think. Also blue-root wine. It won't be commensurate with your abilities, 'Teel, but it's all we can afford."

    She laughed delightedly at Fyr's obvious preoccupation with food and flashed him a mental reproach.

    "I'm starved," he explained. Neteel gave him a quick, affectionate hug.

    "If we're going to eat like that," said Cord, "then let's go out. There's a feast house by the north end of the gardens-we could sit on the terrace and watch the stars."

    "And leave this alone?" Neteel took the device and held it protectively to her chest. "Now that it works, it's not leaving my keeping until I've sold it to the humans."

    "I guess you couldn't carry it around," Cord concurred.

    "Besides, dining out takes time, and I have one or two things to do this evening. And I would like you to arrange a demonstration at the spaceport for… say, tomorrow or the next day. It's a nuisance, your having to go to the port to communicate with the aliens, but I'd like to get this over with as soon as possible."

    Cord understood. They were all eager to reap the first benefits of trade with the offworlders. It would have been convenient to have had radio contact with the spaceport, but the Council did not permit it. They felt it would be too easy for the humans to learn more of Mehiran life than was safe for Mehira.

    "It's early for dinner. Perhaps Cord could bring the meal on his way home."

    Fyrrell's suggestion was accepted. Cord could rent a skim-a one-person vehicle which provided rapid if not luxurious transportation.

    "Before you go," Fyrrell said, "we should thank our ancestors."