The Pleasure Palace. Evangeline Anderson
portly little man, he could certainly move, and Tyson wondered if he had had a dose of symbiotes himself.
Once at the shuttle bay, the Minister stopped them and introduced a distinguished-looking gray-haired gentleman who looked to be in his early forties. In one hand, he was holding a flat case with a locking mechanism on it that Ty had never seen before.
“I’m Dr. Dulupe. Nice to meet you.” He extended a hand for them to shake and smiled pleasantly all the while, showing white, even teeth.
“This is the neurobiologist I told you about. Also happens to be the Chief of Staff at the largest private hospital on planet and the Chancellor’s private physician.” Minister Waynos introduced them proudly. “And this, Dr. Dulupe, are Officers McCullough and Tyson, both very experienced in undercover operations. They are going to Syrus Six to try and rescue our Paul.”
“Ah, yes, of course. So they are.” The doctor continued to smile pleasantly.
“The symbiotes, Doctor, if you please. Time is of the essence.” Waynos waved impatiently. The doctor nodded and raised the small, locked case up to eye level. Ty now realized it was chained to his wrist with a length of titanium wire. He stared fixedly at the lock for a moment, as though thinking very hard about something, and suddenly, with a small pop, the case opened. Inside, lying on a cushion of black crushed velvet like precious jewels, were two perfectly huge hypodermic syringes.
Tyson heard Shaina draw in a nervous breath and he didn’t blame her. He didn’t like the look of the long, sleek, wicked-looking silver barrels any more than she did.
“I apologize for the old-fashioned needles instead of a nasal spray but the symbiotes have to be given as an intramuscular injection. Roll up your sleeves, please,” the doctor ordered in a no-nonsense tone that said he wasn’t used to being disobeyed. He pulled one of the monstrous syringes out of the case and adjusted a minute knob on its side until he appeared satisfied. “All right, who’s first?”
“Wait a minute, I’m still not completely sure about this.” Tyson frowned and put himself between the large needle and Shaina. “Are you absolutely certain there are no adverse effects? How exactly do the symbiotes work?”
“My dear Officer Tyson, we really have no time for this…” Minister Waynos began, but the smiling doctor held up one hand and shook his head.
“No, Minister, I don’t mind answering. Briefly, young man,” he said, addressing himself to Tyson, “the symbiotes I am about to inject each of you with were bred from the same colony of neurobacteria. Once injected into your body, they will migrate to the speech and thought centers of your brain. Because the symbiotes are from the same bacterial colony and are always in communication with each other, they will enable you to form a neural net, a link, if you will, with your partner. This link will make thought transmission possible from a distance of up to one standard mile. The symbiotes, as I’m sure our good Minister has already told you, will also keep you healthy and give you increased regenerative abilities. And there are absolutely no contraindications or harmful side effects. I’ve been injected with symbiotes myself and you can see for yourself how healthy I am.” He nodded at his fit body and smiled that blindingly white smile once more. Tyson wondered who would want a neural link with this guy.
“Are there any other questions or can we get on with this? You only have thirty minutes to make your launch window.” Minister Waynos seemed more agitated all the time. Reluctantly, Tyson rolled up the flexible arm of his black pleather jumpsuit and allowed Dr. Dulupe to skewer him with what felt like a harpoon. Shaina did the same, wincing only a little at the bite of the huge needle. Tyson waited to feel something or to hear Shaina’s thoughts, but there were no strange sensations at all.
“I don’t feel any different,” he said, rolling down his sleeve.
“No, you won’t for a while. It takes the symbiotes a while to migrate into your bloodstream and cross the blood-brain barrier,” the doctor explained. “They will become active in your bodies sometime in the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours. Of course, you’ll be in hypersleep by then, so really, you won’t notice the effects until you wake up in orbit around Syrus Six. Don’t worry, no pain is involved; you’ll simply start to sense your partner’s thoughts.” This wasn’t exactly what Waynos had promised but before Tyson could point it out, Shaina spoke up.
“But, then…how do we turn them off or tune them out or whatever?” Ty thought she sounded a little panicky. Was she really that nervous about having him inside her head? Or was she worried about being inside his?
“Faron will tell you everything and help you master the symbiotes without fail. And now, you must go. The launch window is closing even as we speak.” The Minister pushed them toward a small, recessed door that led to the private shuttle.
“Wait a minute…” Ty started to say but the door hushed closed and he found himself in a small, oval space with four comfortable-looking chairs that had multiple straps hanging from them. The entire shuttle was a uniform pale lavender, even the carpet and walls, and there were no windows. Only the strangely shaped air ducts set high on the walls provided relief from the monochrome effect; they glowed a dull silver. A low, female voice could be heard saying, “Will all passengers please be seated and secure your safety harnesses. We are due for liftoff in three minutes. Will all passengers please…”
“Well, guess we’re on our way,” Tyson remarked, glancing at Shaina, who was already sitting down in one of the plush lavender seats and trying to figure out the complicated tangle of buckles and straps. “This your first trip off-world?”
“Yeah,” she grinned shyly at him. “I’m a little scared, you know?”
She should have thought of that before volunteering for this crazy mission, Ty thought but aloud he only said, “Me too, McCullough. Me too.”
5
“Welcome, welcome, Master, Mistress. I thank the Goddess you have arrived safely.” The clear tenor voice greeted them even before they had disembarked the small, functional shuttle and come aboard the ship. As Shaina rounded the corner and stepped through the air lock, she saw the person the voice belonged to.
“You must be Faron.” She tried not to stare.
“I have the honor of being so called,” he replied, still in that clear, rather beautiful voice. “You may look at me if it pleases you, Mistress. It will not distress me,” he added, perhaps sensing Shaina’s curiosity. That was another thing about Glamerons, she remembered; they possessed low-level empathic telepathy so that they were easily able to sense their masters’ moods and thoughts. Just another trait that made them the perfect pleasure slaves. She gave in to her curiosity and stared, since Faron didn’t seem to mind.
The being in front of them was so beautiful he was almost mesmerizing, although she could hardly say why. Dressed in a flowing gray robe, the Glameron had a slim, androgynous body about five standard feet, six inches tall, and wide, luminous eyes whose color seemed to shift continuously. His shoulder-length hair looked black to her, as black as Ty’s, but when he shifted minutely, it turned a brilliant copper-red hue. A full, red mouth framing white teeth, high cheekbones, and hawklike facial features made him even more attractive—at least, Shaina thought so. His skin changed like the rest of him. One minute she was sure it was the same even, golden tan of Ty’s and the next it looked creamy and pale.
“You look like someone I know,” Tyson spoke behind her.
“I was just thinking the same thing. You look…familiar somehow. I’ve never met you before, though; I’m sure I’d remember it.”
“Forgive me, Master, Mistress, but this is a reaction that most humans have to me. I look familiar to you because I resemble the person you each most desire. I am shaped by your psyches. I differ with every Master or Mistress I serve.”
“But what if the person you are serving desires you most?” Shaina asked, trying not to think about the way the Glameron appeared to her and what it might mean.
Faron turned great,