JORR (Jim Able: Offworld Book 7) by Ed Charlton (ebook reader ink .txt) 📗

of a vent blowing from a wall of the Higher Life Sciences building.

Tella established that the gates were all alarmed with infrared beams. The nearby gate was for deliveries to the cafeteria. Tella did not have to wait long for the first of the early-morning traffic.

A sleepy guard opened the gate to a large van, delaying long enough to glimpse the driver’s authorization and for Tella to grab hold of a thin bar along the van’s side.

The Jorrs in the cafeteria kitchen were in no hurry to unload the delivery, chatting with the driver over mugs of a hot drink. The sweet smell grew immensely stronger. Their concentration on the social ritual made life easy for Tella, pressing itself onto drab institutional walls until a door presented the first serious obstacle.

The door could be seen by one female Jorr at the edge of the group, leaning back on a chair. Tella waited until she looked away and then tried gently to open the door. It was locked and made a loud clunk. There was immediate silence.

Three of the group slowly moved toward the door. Tella pressed itself flat to the wall.

“What was it?” one asked.

“Someone’s in the hall.”

“Who is it? Can you see?”

“No. You think someone was in there all night?”

“Open up. Maybe it’s an animal that got in.”

To Tella’s relief, only one of them approached close to the door. Intent on seeing through the glass, she moved past without touching the Neraffan. She unlocked the door and opened it into the large eating area. She held the door open and groped for the light switch.

The ceiling began to glow, and the light level rose to match that of the kitchen area. The other two moved through the doorway, and Tella, with a glance to see that no others were moving, followed.

“There’s no one here.”

“What made the noise? There was something here.”

A voice called from the kitchen, “Was it a ghost?”

They laughed. The female called back, “Yeah, it’s your mother’s ghost; she says to tell you you’re getting too fat!”

With more laughter, they turned and rejoined their fellows, leaving Tella standing against an inner wall amid the thick smells of meals gone by.

***

Gritta Mel was working in a long, narrow laboratory with high windows. Along the outer wall the tables were covered with computers, papers, and piles of books. At the far end of the room, small cages stood floor to ceiling. She sat at a desk halfway along. Her teeth held a chewed pencil sticking out of one side, and her ears were flat against the top of her head. She was hunched over a roll of paper. Once in a while, she paused to mark a peak or a trough in the jagged markings marching down the roll.

Tella had been with her for about an hour. No one had come in; no one had called. The surveillance was not going well. She had yet to speak to anyone.

The door opened at the far end of the lab. A short Jorr strode in. He had a snout like the professor but the thinner limbs of a Gul. His ears stood erect and his eyes roved around the laboratory as he walked.

“Ma’,” he said.

“Sa’,” replied the professor without looking up.

The boy walked up to a table near his mother and began to lay out mugs and prepare a drink.

“What’re you doing?” asked his mother, again without looking up.

“L’hala.”

“Who’s coming, sweetheart?”

The boy tilted his head and frowned at his mother.

“Your guest, not mine.”

The professor looked up at him. “Who?”

“The simian with photoactive skin.”

Tella’s heart sank as the child pointed directly in its direction. The professor stiffened but did not turn to look.

“Sure?” she asked.

“Want me to spray something on it?”

Tella said gently, “That won’t be necessary. Some hot l’hala would be most welcome. I haven’t had anything since last night.”

The boy nodded and continued the preparation. The professor turned slowly and looked up and down the wall, not seeing where the voice had come from.

“Excuse me a moment,” said Tella.

She watched in wonder as a spare white lab coat rose from its hook at the end of the room, and a tall milky-skinned alien seemed to precipitate out of the air to fill it.

“My name is Tella. I mean harm to neither you nor your son.”

“My visitors usually make an appointment,” replied the professor coolly.

“I don’t have time for the formalities.”

“You’re working for a news organization?”

“I’d die first,” said Tella, smiling.

The professor smiled despite herself. “Then who?”

“I’ll tell you. But, first, I need to ask you something.”

“No deal. Tell me why I shouldn’t just get security in here and have you removed—forcibly.”

Tella made a guess at the cultural convention. “L’hala first?”

She narrowed her eyes and her whiskers stiffened. Turning to her son, she nodded once.

“Bring a chair with you,” she said as she made a mark on her paper.

Tella brought along a chair and sat at the table opposite her son.

“Your skin is truly remarkable. I’ve read about species that have it, but I’ve never seen it up close,” the professor said as they waited.

“I am from Neraff. Few of us remain who have this ability.”

She nodded. “I can understand that. Not many races take kindly to having invisible intruders.”

“You can’t hide your body heat,” said the youngster.

Tella nodded. “That is correct. I assume your ability to see infrared is inherited from your father?”

“Uh-huh. Tanna Gul has forty-eight percent of the illumination of Tanna Jorr. It’s an evolutionary necessity.”

Tella looked at the boy’s mother. “If I were from a news organization, I’d have quite a story.”

“A story that will not leave this facility.”

Tella saw the steely look of determination in her eyes and wondered again about her loyalties.

The sweet smell of l’hala masked the acrid scents from the cages. Tella waited while the boy poured three mugs.

“L’hala pur gah,” he said, handing a mug to his mother.

“L’hala ar di,” she replied with a smile.

Handing a mug to their guest, he again said, “L’hala pur gah . I’m Larc, by the way.”

“L’hala