Abalim

Chapter Four

“Mister Abalim, sir.” A tiny metallic voice on his shoulder quavered in his ear. “Are you okay? Mister Abalim, sir?”

Abalim blinked to get his bearings. Being jerked around in Dreamwalks and visions made his head swim. He glanced at the small spider-shaped bot on his shoulder. He gave the little guy a slight smile. “Yes, I’m fine. Being yanked from one psyche plane to another makes my head spin. How long was I out?”

JR15’s bulbous silver-and-green body quivered. “Two hours, nineteen seconds, and one thousand twenty-three picoseconds.”

Abalim grunted and glanced around. He was still in the prison cell where he and his brothers searched for the psyche trails of the human women who’d been there. His three brothers were standing with their arms crossed, wearing identical narrowed eyes and pinched frowns. Aimed at him.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” He growled.

“What took you so long? Our visions weren’t nearly as long.” Arakiba flicked an expressive wave at the other two next to him. “We don’t have all day to wait for you, you know.”

Abalim stifled a smile as he sensed Arakiba’s fear made him short-tempered.

Asmodel lowered his arms. “The three of us have latched onto the psyche trails of the other women that were here. We figured we’d better separate and find those women before the trail gets cold.”

Azazel stepped to Abalim and placed a hand on his forearm. “Were you successful in linking with one of the women as we were?”

“I did,” he answered. “And a bit more. Here, let me share what I’ve found out.” Abalim squeezed his brother”s hand before stepping back.

He closed his eyes and connected on the psyche plane they’d always used. With ease, he opened the line between him and their eldest brother, Adapa, currently light years away on the rogue planet Akurn. While the distance made it difficult to have direct communication, Abalim wouldn’t have any trouble sharing what happened to him. Sliding into their collective minds, he showed them the communication he’d had with the alien Rerqel and the alien’s offer to help support the oncoming Krystalii invasion. He only gave them a brief snippet of what he and Lisa shared. They didn’t need to know how she affected him. How she tapped into his loneliness and uncovered his secret desire to bond with her, as Adapa had with Inanna.

“Well, damn.” Arakiba scratched the side of his head. “The only thing I got was a link to one of the women and the strong sense of which direction I’d better go.”

“I, too, had an overwhelming urge of where I’m needed. And there’s little time to waste.” Azazel gave them a slight bow. “I also believe I will not have any difficulty in transporting to the woman I need to find.”

Abalim frowned and crossed his arms. “I don’t like the idea of you transporting somewhere where you’ve never been before. It could be dangerous.”

Azazel’s grin was uncharacteristically boyish. “You don’t have to worry about me. Remember Inanna classified me as anal-retentive? Adhering to detail has always been my passion.”

Well, that dumb statement made Abalim roll his eyes. Can’t argue with stupid.

“I’m not stupid and you know it,” Azazel retorted with a wide grin.

“Keep the path open, brother, to let us know your teleportation worked.” Asmodel referred to their shared psychic channel. “And don’t forget to keep your JR open as well.”

“Yeah.” Arakiba snorted. “We don’t have time to search the galaxy for your scrambled bits.”

“And with that in mind…” Azazel spread his arms and went out of focus before disappearing.

“Freaking show-off,” Arakiba mumbled.

Abalim suspected his brother envied Azazel’s strong teleportation skills. While they all could do quick jumps and short distances, none of them could compare to Azazel’s talent.

“I believe I have a way to get to the woman named Lisa.” Abalim shared her name with them. “I’m supposed to find a pub here called the Grub Grog and find a smuggler named Captain Saphira. Apparently she and her crew have been trying to go to the planet Qorath for quite some time now.” He eyed his two remaining brothers. “What about you two? Do you know how you’re going to get where you need to go?”

Asmodel and Arakiba glanced at each other.

“Okay with you if I take Elemi?” Arakiba thumbed behind him in the general direction of the spaceship the Chancellor of the Federation consortium let them borrow. “I have a feeling she knows where the planet is that I have to go to.”

Asmodel nodded with a slight shrug. “I’ll go with Abalim and see if I can hire a smuggler of my own.”

“Okay, bros.” Arakiba gave them a sloppy salute with his two fingers. “I’m outta here.” His body wobbled and went out of focus before he, too, disappeared.

Teleporting the short distance to the spaceship housing the AI Elemi wouldn’t be a problem for him. Abalim’s only concern was how the AI that ran the ship would work with his smart-ass brother. She’d either bond with him and say he was the love of her life, or she’d make his life a living hell. Not that it mattered. Damn man would enjoy it either way.

“Come on,” he said to his remaining brother. “Since we don’t know where we’re going, we might as well see if we can find somebody to give us directions.”

His brother gave a slight, insincere shudder. “I can’t wait to see the freak show we’ll find there. Think they’ll charge extra for their two-headed comedy act?”

Abalim headed out with Asmodel into the eerily silent grimy underbelly of the small village. Turned out the Grub Grog was easier to find than he’d hoped for.

It was the only place in the dim twilight of the deserted streets with a hazy gleam of flickering light that could be seen a couple of blocks away.

When they stopped in front of the disreputable alien tavern, its mundane appearance was sloppy at best. The corroded metal walls were adorned with faded, flickering holographic signs that offered various libations and questionable services. The entrance, guarded by a towering, four-armed bouncer of an unknown species, emitted an eerie, pulsating hum.

Passing by the steady glare of the guard at the entrance, they entered without trouble.

Once inside, the atmosphere turned out as dreary as expected. A low light gave the place a depressing glow.

Abalim took a deep breath. What coated his senses was a thick conglomeration of gloomy scents, pungent fumes, and the palpable energy of desperate conversations and clandestine deals.

Tables, booths, and nooks carved into the metallic walls were filled with aliens of all shapes and sizes. Those wearing clothing had on a mishmash of worn leather-like jackets and shirts adorned with intricate metallic badges and patches, suggesting affiliations with various crews. Some wore pants, most showing signs of wear and tear. The air was heavy with a dizzying mix of languages that echoed in harmonious disarray.

The furnishings, well-worn and tattered, could have witnessed the rise and fall of countless civilizations. The walls were adorned with faded space-faring artifacts, antique weapons, and holographic memorabilia from infamous space pirates and interstellar rebels. Ancient flickering holo screens hung above the bar, broadcasting news from distant solar systems, underground races, and wanted posters of individuals with bounties that would tempt even the most inexperienced bounty hunter.

Behind the bar, a haggard-looking bartender of a mysterious alien race served drinks from bottles with labels written in cryptic symbols. The drinks ranged from luminescent neon concoctions that fizzed and bubbled to mysterious swirling mixtures that defied gravity.

At a quick glance, it was easy to see the crowd in the Grub Grog was a peculiar bunch. Grizzled space mercenaries with cybernetic implants, alien traders with shady intentions, smugglers lurking in the shadows, and enigmatic beings cloaked in hoods, their true forms veiled in secrecy. The hum of conversation and raucous laughter accompanied the eerie melodies played by a band of multi-limbed musicians on an elevated stage in the center.

Despite the seemingly chaotic ambiance, an unspoken code of conduct prevailed. Even without opening his psychic senses, it was clear violence wouldn’t be tolerated.

“Arakiba would love this place,” Asmodel quipped.

“No doubt.” Abalim headed to an open space at the bar. Not for the first time was he thankful the Zerins injected him and his brothers with intergalactic translators. He raised a finger to get the bartender’s attention.

The creature stood an imposing seven feet tall, its sinewy frame hinting at a grace and speed that defied its massive stature. Even in the low light, its skin shimmered a shade of deep blue and was adorned with intricate patterns that shifted and danced as he moved.

“Yes, patron? How may I assist?” The alien’s speech sounded like a series of musical notes and random clicks. Obviously, its soothing voice mixed with a melodic quality, was used to calm even the most agitated customers.

“We’re looking for Captain Saphira. Would you happen to know if she’s here?”

“What do yer want ‘er for?”

The male voice behind him made him jump. Dammit! That’s what he got for locking down his psychic senses to avoid getting caught up in everyone”s drama around him. He glared at Asmodel’s chuckling. Asshat. He could’ve warned a guy. I think Arakiba is rubbing off on you. He gave his brother a mental warning.

Asmodel just shrugged and gave him a mischievous smile. Not my fault your JR is falling down on the job.

Pick on your own bot. Abalim huffed.

He gave Asmodel the evil eye before swiveling around. He backed up against the bar, putting an elbow on the counter while searching for the person who spoke to him. At first, it didn’t look like anyone addressed him until he glanced down at the small, wiry creature in a hunched position in front of him. The guy couldn’t be more than three feet tall. His skin was a mottled shade of green with rough, scaly patches. Large, bulbous eyes in the middle of his face sported a heady mixture of orange-and-red irises that gave him a perpetually anxious expression.

“I was sent by Rerqel from Qorath to obtain passage to their planet.”

“Fer the both o’ya?” The alien”s eyes swiveled to Asmodel before focusing back on him.

Asmodel shook his head. “No. My path lies elsewhere.” His attention shifted to the other side of the room. “As a matter of fact, my destiny is just over there.” Giving Abalim a parting look, Asmodel headed away.

You going to be okay?Abalim asked, even though he hadn’t taken his gaze off the little alien in front of him.

Yes, do not worry. Everything is fine. I was expecting things to turn out this way. I’ll keep our pathway open. Asmodel’s mental tone was absentminded as the crowd swallowed his departing figure.

“I guess it’s jus’ you then.” The alien mused, the sharp claws on his slender fingers retracting as he scratched a patch on his jaw. “Okay. You’s follow me.” The little guy turned around and marched through the dense crowd.

“JR15, hang on.”

“Yes, Mister Abalim, sir.”

The tips of JR15’s legs tickled as the droid scurried to the back of Abalim’s neck, under his dreadlocks.

Following the little alien was easy enough as he shouldered through the thick throng. The billowing cloak of various patches the small alien wore allowed him to blend seamlessly through the room.

Just before a sense of claustrophobia choked him, Abalim stumbled into a free zone, right in front of a round table on a raised dais. And there in the middle, with her back to the wall and her arms resting on the backrest, was a breathtaking alien female.

Her wide, almond-shaped blazing eyes of emerald were laser focused on him. As he stood at the end of her table, she gave him a knowing smirk.

“I hear you want to go to Qorath.”

The arresting female tapped her finger on the backrest of the round table. “Good thing you showed up when you did. My crew and I were getting ready to leave.” She pulled her hands down and leaned on the opaque table, clutching her fingers together.

Abalim had no idea what to expect when he was told to have this captain take him to Qorath. But as he approached the large table, the sight of the alien female took his breath away. She had an extraordinary lustrous beauty.

Her coral-colored skin glowed in the flickering light of the room, highlighting brilliant-green eyes that sparkled like jewels. She wore tight tan leather pants visible through the clear table, revealing a figure almost too good to be true.

Did she have any special powers, or were all her successes based purely on cunning?

He hesitated, opening his senses to focus on her. While he couldn’t read her mind, he sensed her emotions. The main sentiment coming from her was a calm acceptance mixed with a bit of excitement. Like he was the answer to something she’d searched for.

Saphira smiled as she held onto a delicate chain hanging around her neck that reached to the middle of her bountiful breasts. She looked him up and down before her expression turned thoughtful. “You may prove to be useful.” Her fingers trailed to the end of the long necklace.

It was hard to tell what it was made of. The shimmering metal changed color and density with each of her caresses. The sparkling gem was a thumb-size teardrop with a magenta glow when she passed her fingers over it.

“I am more than happy to take you to Qorath since the Xeltrians have given us permission to do so.” She narrowed her eyes. “The only stipulation for you to come on board is you stay away from the ship’s computers and the restricted areas of the ship. Agreed?” Her full lips pursed as her head tilted. Her direct gaze left no doubt she’d hold him to his agreement.

Hmm,this was too easy. It didn’t take a psychic to know she had some hidden agenda. Either about him or something about Qorath. He didn’t sense any threat from her or from the small creature that brought him to her. Still, it was better to remain cautious.

“Agreed.” Abalim made sure his posture was nonthreatening. “One thing, though.” He tapped his opposite shoulder as a signal to the small bot to show himself. “This is my companion, JR15. He’s a personal drone who has to come with me.” He wasn’t asking for permission.

JR15 scuttled from under the dreadlocks and stood at the end of Abalim’s shoulder. The little guy quivered but kept silent.

Saphira tapped her gleaming fingernail of dark brown on her plump lips. She studied the spider-shaped droid. “I see no reason you cannot bring it. However.” The gaze in her brilliant green eyes narrowed. “It, too, will stay out of our systems. If it is found on any part of the ship without your presence, I will destroy it immediately.” She sat back with one side of her lips curving into a satisfied smirk. “That is, after I’ve drained it of all its data. That clear enough for you?”

Well, there went that idea. It wouldn’t be worth satisfying his curiosity about Saphira and her crew by sending JR15 out to investigate. “Absolutely.”

She gave him another hard look before tilting her head to glance at someone behind him. “Gilipthor, take…” She swung her head back to look at him. “By Ichor’s Holdings! What’s your name, boy?”

Boy? Abalim raised his left eyebrow. Even though he’d been created over seven thousand years ago, his physical appearance was at least on par with the female in front of him. “My name is Abalim.” He gave her a slightly respectful bow of his head. “And I’m from the planet Earth.”

Her nose scrunched as she pushed back a lock of her metallic-gold hair.

He hadn’t seen a pure color like that since he and his brothers were given instructions on how to mine for the mineral in South Africa after they’d been created. Continuing his covert examination, he noticed her hair was short at the sides and the back, but carried a long panel draped over the side of her head that curled around her right breast.

“Okay, Abalim from Earth. Just follow Gilipthor and he’ll get you settled in our ship, the Galactic Serpent.”

“Youse be comin’, Cap’in?” The wiry creature covered his bald head with the hood of his cloak.

Saphira gave a wave of dismissal. “Yes, yes.” From her jacket pocket, she pulled out a small device that fit into the palm of her hand.

The exterior was a smooth and seamless oval, devoid of any visible buttons or switches. Faint patterns of luminescence gracefully flowed across the surface.

It reminded Abalim of the gentle ripples of a tranquil lake.

“I’ve got to check on a couple of things first. Then I’ll be right there.” She glanced up. “Wait until I join you before you introduce him to the crew.” Her full coral lips pursed into a mischievous smirk. “I’m sure they’re going to love him.”

As Abalim followed the quick waddle of the scurrying Gilipthor through the crowd, he sent a mental message to his brother Asmodel to let him know he was leaving. His brother gave him an affirmative, if not distracted, acknowledgment. Looked like little brother was hot on the trail of a clue to where one of the women was. If he needed help, he could either contact their eldest brother on Akurn or have his JR unit do the same. It was quite disconcerting that the five of them would be thousands of parsecs separated from each other. They’d never experienced that great a distance apart from each other before. If he was honest, he couldn’t decide if he was excited or terrified. Probably a bit of both.

“Is the ship far from here?” His footsteps splashed in pockets of dirty puddles as they walked through the decrepit streets of FiPan. The rancid odors streaming from the ground made his nose wrinkle. While he couldn’t imagine himself as fastidious as the modern population of Earth, even back in ancient times when he was a slave, he never had to endure filth like this.

“Non,” the creature replied, looking over his shoulder at Abalim. “Any gear youse need to pick up?”

Abalim gave him a crooked smirk. He never needed to carry anything since he could create whatever he needed with his psychokinesis. The only thing he couldn’t create was his trusty companion, JR15. The only other thing he needed was a sentimental talisman he’d created when he was a child.

At first glance, it looked like a simple black obsidian oval as big as his thumb. It had a sturdy silver ball at the top with a braided leather cord looped through it. The pendant hung to the middle of his breastbone, and he kept it under his clothing.

Only on closer examination did the pendant reveal its intricate details. The engraving on the front was an ancient symbol representing protection and fortitude. On the backside was a small cavity that held three miniature gemstones—a deep-blue lapis lazuli for enhancing wisdom, a fiery-red carnelian for courage, and a shimmering clear-crystal quartz to amplify the energies of the other two gemstones.

The pendant held no magical properties, but it represented a tiny piece of himself that he’d made as a slave. A symbol of freedom when he was forced to endure a series of tests the scientists used to perform on him and his brothers. This reminded him no one could take away who he truly was. Throwing his shoulders back, Abalim shut the mental image down and focused on the here and now. “No, I have everything I need with me.”

The only response from Gilipthor was a high-pitched whistle as he clapped his teeth together.

Abalim couldn’t tell if the guy was annoyed or amused.

They didn’t speak again as they headed to an open field under the dull gray sky tinged with a brownish fog. It was hard to tell if there were clouds above them because the dirty smog blanketing the air was filled with discolored layers. The sunlight bravely tried to pierce through the smudge, but its weak light created muted shadows. The atmosphere held a heavy chemical stench mixed with something burning in the distance.

“JR15?” He spoke out of the side of his mouth to the spybot perched between his neck in his shoulder. “Will this toxic air create any harmful side effects for me?”

“If we stayed much longer, Mister Abalim sir, you would soon experience several respiratory issues, compounded by eye irritation. It would be best if we left as quickly as possible.” His tiny body quivered.

Good thing the little guy could stick to the skin of his neck without making it painful.

Gilipthor hurried his pace, making Abalim pick up his. They ended up in a burned field of dead grasses where a cigar -ship perched in the low light.

The tension between his shoulders melted as he studied it while they approached. It looked to be in good shape, with nary a dent or scratch in sight.

“There she be. The Galactic Serpent.” The pride in the creature”s voice was easy to hear. “I’s travel in it wid the good folks from Crichi, likes the cap’in, fer most of me life.”

Before Abalim had a chance to ask anything else, Gilipthor pulled out a communication device similar to the one Saphira used earlier and barked several whistles and clicks into it.

Abalim stood next to him and crossed his arms.

Between one blink and the next, the scene around him changed. He now stood on a rectangular dais that had to be inside the ship. He took in a clean, deep breath and let it out with pleasure.

JR15 hummed his approval next to him.

“Follows me.” Gilipthor trundled down the ramp and headed out an open archway.

Abalim didn’t bother to look around. The diminutive alien might be half his size, but he was quick.

Gilipthor wheezed into his communication device as he led the way to an open door of an elevator.

When they got in, the doors reappeared closed. After several movements of them going up then sideways, the doors faded and opened to a narrow corridor with just enough light to be comfortable. The floors and walls were made of some type of metal. The floor was firm enough to walk on but had a soft give with each step. The hallway appeared to be seamless, with no openings or doorways. Every few feet, a cylinder tube hung from the ceiling a few inches from the wall.

Gilipthor stopped under one of those cylinders.

It lowered until it reached his eye level. Then a yellow light blinked on its bottom.

The alien leaned until a shimmering light coated his eye. “Come here, human man, and put your eye here.”

Abalim wasn’t going to correct Gilipthor calling him a human. To be honest, there were the worst things he could be called. Without a word, he leaned to put his face close to the cylinder when the smaller alien moved away.

The moment he came close to it, the cylinder drew up and was now at his eye level. After a quick burst of light, it shut off, and the cylinder slid back up to the ceiling.

As he blinked to get his eyesight back to normal, he noticed a strange symbol etched into the wall. It looked like a strange mixture of numbers inserted into a hieroglyphic.

“This is where you stays on the Galactic Serpent. But don’t gets too comfortable. The Captain’ll be here soon, and I’ll take youse to meet the crew.” Gilipthor whistled and clicked as he talked. He turned to Abalim and lowered an eye as the other one studied him up and down. “Youse and your littl’ friend stays here real tight-like. And don’t touch nothin’.”

Abalim gave the smaller male a slight smile. “I think we’ll be just fine.”

Gilipthor clacked his claws together with a nod. “Good. That’s good. Don’t need youse causin’ trouble. Go inside and stay there until I comes ta get ya.” He stared at Abalim as he stepped over the threshold. With a slight whistle, the smaller creature twirled around, his cape billowing behind him as he trotted down the hallway.

Abalim jerked back just as the door rematerialized. He looked up and saw another cylinder on the ceiling. He stood under it, waiting for to lower so he could open the door. The damn thing didn’t move. Either he didn’t know how to activate the thing, or he was locked in.

Panic gripped Abalim, his breath catching in his throat. The walls of the room closed in, taunting him to teleport to the other side and freedom. Fear clung to him, a remnant of his days in chains as a slave. He loathed this loss of control, a deep-seated phobia carved from a lifetime of confinement. With a deep, steadying breath, he summoned his inner strength, reaching for that resilient spark of defiance.

Better to do something constructive instead of wallowing in dread. Asmodel went to the small cot in the room and laid down. Closing his eyes, he laced his fingers together on his stomach while JR15 scrambled from beneath his hair and scurried over his torso and made himself comfortable on his chest. With a sigh, he willed himself to create a Dreamwalk that included the alluring Lisa.

Fruk his fears.