of thegrapple release so she was prepared for the stomach-wrenching motion of the shuttle’s falling away from the
Athena
. Her seatmates were not and gasped in reaction, clutching the arm rests as the shuttle’s engines took hold and pushed the passengers into the foam of their seats.
The transfer from liner to planetary surface was a relatively short run, though Killashandra’s seatmates complained bitterly about the discomfort and duration all the way down. Killashandra accounted the landing smooth but the two cushions found fault with that as well, so she was immensely grateful when the port opened again, flooding the shuttle with the crisp clean cool air of Optheria. She inhaled deeply, clearing her lungs of the
Athena
’s recycled air. For all the craft’s modern amenities, it had not quite solved the age-old problem of refreshing air without the taint of deodorizers.
No sooner had the first passengers filed into the arrival area than the public address system began a recorded announcement, scrolling through the same message in all major Federated Planets languages. Passengers were requested to have travel documents ready for inspection by Port Authorities. Please to form a line in the appropriately marked alphabetic or numeric queues. Aliens requiring special life support systems or supplies would please contact a uniformed attendant. Visitors with health problems were to present themselves, immediately after Clearance, to the Port Authority Medical Officer. It was the hope of the Tourist Bureau of Optheria that all visitors would thoroughly enjoy their holiday on the planet.
Killashandra was relieved to see that she would be able to present her i.d. in some privacy, for the Inspectors presided in security booths. Those waiting their turn in the queue could not observe the process. She kept glancing to the far right of the line where Corishshould be waiting but he was not immediately visible. She caught sight of him just as it was her turn to approach the Inspector.
Killashandra suppressed a malicious grin as she slid her arm and its i.d. bracelet under the visiplate. The blank expression of the Inspector’s square face underwent a remarkable change at the sight of the Heptite Seal on his screen. With one hand he pressed a red button on the terminal in front of him and with the other urgently beckoned her to proceed. Quitting the booth, he insisted on relieving her of her carisak.
“Please, no fuss,” Killashandra said.
“Gracious Guildmember,” the Inspector began effusively, “we have been so concerned. The cabin reserved for you on the
Athena—
”
“I traveled economy.”
“But you’re a Heptite Guildmember!”
“There are times, Inspector,” Killashandra said, bending close to him and touching his arm, “when discretion requires that one travel incognito.” The hair stood up on the back of his hand. She sighed.
“Oh, I see.” And clearly he did not. He unconsciously smoothed the hair back down.
They had walked the short distance to the next portal, which slid apart to reveal a welcoming committee of four, three men and a woman, slighlty breathless. “The Guildmember has arrived!” The Inspector’s triumphant announcement left the distinct impression that he himself had somehow conjured her appearance.
Killashandra stared apprehensively at them. They had a disconcerting resemblance to each other, not only a sameness of height and build but of coloring and feature. Even their voices were pitched in the same sonorous timber. She blinked, thinking it might be some trick of the soft yellow sunshine pouring in from the main reception area. Then she gave herself a little shake: allwere government employees, but could any bureaucracy, Optherian or other, hire people on the basis of their uniform appearance?
“Welcome to Optheria, Guildmember Ree,” the Inspector said, beaming as he ushered her past the portal, which whispered shut behind them.
“Welcome, Killashandra Ree, I am
Lynsay Sands
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Karen Harbaugh
John C. Wohlstetter
Ann Cleeves
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BWWM Club, Tyra Small
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Madison Daniel
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