Read Online Alien Chronicles 1 - The Golden One by Deborah Chester - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Deborah Chester
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scent, no harm. Ampris relaxed her young muscles. She licked the hand that petted her, and found herself cuddled closer. Yes, this was good. She inhaled the skin scent of Israi’s hand again and absorbed it into her memory, into her very being.
For the first time since being taken from her mother, Ampris felt safe. She did not know how long it would last. The last time she felt safe, terror had come. But for now, it was enough.
CHAPTER •FOUR
Elrabin’s stomach hurt so much he could barely concentrate on the display of meat globes just a few feet away. Crouched behind a stack of rotting, smelly fruit crates, Elrabin flicked his ears against the swarm of buzzing flies and peeked around the edge of the crates again.
Yes, the Gorlican shopkeeper was still haggling with his customer, a scrawny old green-skinned Viis with a heavily laden market basket. The Viis was clearly a cook in a small household. He gave himself far too many airs for his rank, and insisted on squeezing, sniffing, and haggling over every item.
Elrabin didn’t mind the performance, for it distracted the shopkeeper, but the two adults were standing next to the meat globes. Elrabin could have stolen half the contents of the shop by now, but he wanted meat—juicy, synthetic, and flavored with spices to make it taste real. His mouth watered with anticipation, and he had to press both hands against the fierce ache in his stomach.
Gods, he was hungry. After a rough night crammed in bed with his younger lits, who yipped, kicked, and twitched in their dreams, Elrabin had awakened this morning to an empty larder and a note from his mother blinking on the data screen, saying to get two measures of Quixlix from the market on her payment card.
It was strange the way a sudden cool certainty had flowed through him. He stood there in the galley, staring at the open door to the bare larder, the grease-smeared cooker, the scuffed, cheap table, the grimy floor, and the fly-specked window that overlooked the next tenement building, and he felt suddenly calm and at peace with himself.
His lits, Vol and Mikar, were yipping in the other room in shrill argument, but even the noise seemed to dampen down and become insignificant in his hearing. He saw as clearly as though he gazed into a sivo crystal.
Their lodging stank of dry rot, rancid meat grease, and unclean fur. They had two rooms, both too small. The security locks didn’t work. The bath sprayer didn’t work. The water pipe leaked. The cooker was down to its last working burner, a bomb waiting to explode. The bottom panel of the door had been kicked in the last time Elrabin’s da came by, drunk and howling for admittance. Maintenance had never repaired it. They had an old data screen that was illegally hooked up to the building’s incoming vid signal feed. One of Elrabin’s daily chores was to monitor any scans and keep the screen switched off at random intervals to avoid detection.
Yeah, like the building supervisor was going to be able to squeeze a fine out of Elrabin’s mother if they did get caught. All he could do would be to evict them, and that was fine with Elrabin. The hopelessness of the place sometimes drove Elrabin to fury, and sometimes to despair.
“When things look up, we’ll move,” his mother often said. “When things look up, I’ll change jobs, get a better shift. When things look up, we won’t have to worry.”
This morning Elrabin understood that things would never look up. Nothing changed in the ghetto, ever. His mother already worked double shifts, which meant she was never home. She slaved out there, breaking her back doing work too hard for her while she got the worst wages in the world. They came up short every pay cycle. Most of the time all they could afford to buy was Quixlix, and if Elrabin had to synthesize one more meal out of that stuff he would puke.
So he just stood there in the galley, with his heart thumping a little and his ears roaring and that strange calmness
For the first time since being taken from her mother, Ampris felt safe. She did not know how long it would last. The last time she felt safe, terror had come. But for now, it was enough.
CHAPTER •FOUR
Elrabin’s stomach hurt so much he could barely concentrate on the display of meat globes just a few feet away. Crouched behind a stack of rotting, smelly fruit crates, Elrabin flicked his ears against the swarm of buzzing flies and peeked around the edge of the crates again.
Yes, the Gorlican shopkeeper was still haggling with his customer, a scrawny old green-skinned Viis with a heavily laden market basket. The Viis was clearly a cook in a small household. He gave himself far too many airs for his rank, and insisted on squeezing, sniffing, and haggling over every item.
Elrabin didn’t mind the performance, for it distracted the shopkeeper, but the two adults were standing next to the meat globes. Elrabin could have stolen half the contents of the shop by now, but he wanted meat—juicy, synthetic, and flavored with spices to make it taste real. His mouth watered with anticipation, and he had to press both hands against the fierce ache in his stomach.
Gods, he was hungry. After a rough night crammed in bed with his younger lits, who yipped, kicked, and twitched in their dreams, Elrabin had awakened this morning to an empty larder and a note from his mother blinking on the data screen, saying to get two measures of Quixlix from the market on her payment card.
It was strange the way a sudden cool certainty had flowed through him. He stood there in the galley, staring at the open door to the bare larder, the grease-smeared cooker, the scuffed, cheap table, the grimy floor, and the fly-specked window that overlooked the next tenement building, and he felt suddenly calm and at peace with himself.
His lits, Vol and Mikar, were yipping in the other room in shrill argument, but even the noise seemed to dampen down and become insignificant in his hearing. He saw as clearly as though he gazed into a sivo crystal.
Their lodging stank of dry rot, rancid meat grease, and unclean fur. They had two rooms, both too small. The security locks didn’t work. The bath sprayer didn’t work. The water pipe leaked. The cooker was down to its last working burner, a bomb waiting to explode. The bottom panel of the door had been kicked in the last time Elrabin’s da came by, drunk and howling for admittance. Maintenance had never repaired it. They had an old data screen that was illegally hooked up to the building’s incoming vid signal feed. One of Elrabin’s daily chores was to monitor any scans and keep the screen switched off at random intervals to avoid detection.
Yeah, like the building supervisor was going to be able to squeeze a fine out of Elrabin’s mother if they did get caught. All he could do would be to evict them, and that was fine with Elrabin. The hopelessness of the place sometimes drove Elrabin to fury, and sometimes to despair.
“When things look up, we’ll move,” his mother often said. “When things look up, I’ll change jobs, get a better shift. When things look up, we won’t have to worry.”
This morning Elrabin understood that things would never look up. Nothing changed in the ghetto, ever. His mother already worked double shifts, which meant she was never home. She slaved out there, breaking her back doing work too hard for her while she got the worst wages in the world. They came up short every pay cycle. Most of the time all they could afford to buy was Quixlix, and if Elrabin had to synthesize one more meal out of that stuff he would puke.
So he just stood there in the galley, with his heart thumping a little and his ears roaring and that strange calmness
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