Outcast Read Free Page A

Lan. Don't worry, you'll get used to it."
    His eyes boggling, Lan tried to snake his arm back out of Doc's grasp. " Sex ?" he whispered, shocked to the core. So casually mentioned, a topic that no one on Aldor would dare talk about to even their closest relative, let alone a stranger.
    "Talking of sex," Prez rubbed his hands together, "let's hit Vix's! We've got..." He looked at his watch. "Three hours before we have to be back to drop off those -- er --tourists." He nodded in the general direction of the docks where the Outcast was being refueled.
    "But..." Lan said, following them through security as if in a daze. "Was there not to be some sort of induction procedure?"
    Prez slung an arm around Lan's shoulders, seemingly oblivious to the distress the gesture caused. "Play now, work later."
    Bewildered, Lan followed Prez and Doc through the main thoroughfare of the leisure area to a service door in a corner behind a large piece of ceramic Belaari art. The sculpture stretched its crooked branches to the ceiling and artificial bird noises piped out from some audio nodes on the blue and yellow buds. He watched Prez stumble against the door and then rap a knuckle against the metal in something that seemed like a code. A crack opened up and Doc whispered something into the darkness behind. Then the door -- which had a yellow Keep Out! sign on the front -- swung open and they pulled Lan inside. He took a breath and followed them, trailing his fingertips against the wall because his vision was poor in such darkness.
    The walkway downstairs was narrow and smelled of stale smoke and fresh urine. At the bottom of the steps they turned a corner into a cavernous area, lit only by the floor lights and neon signs. Afghat's Gambling Emporium, Belaar's Last Bar, various stalls selling all sorts of gadgets, and shifty characters hanging around in the darkness. In the corner flashed a pink sign announcing Vix's Pleasure Center. The front was boarded up, and a purple curtain hung over the door. It was open.
    Lan hesitated. "I shall wait here."
    "Nonsense," Prez said. "It's not safe to hang around out here. Come inside. If you don't want to pup, then you can sit at the bar."
    It looked as if the area had once been a large warehouse. Ancient crates were stacked in one corner under a tatty tarpaulin. In front of them, a short hairy creature, with a scar running from the top of its forehead right across one eye and down to its jaw, stood in front of a makeshift stand where cutting implements of all shapes and sizes lay glinting under the flashing neon. A hooded figure in black robes was perusing the goods, lifting one now and then and slashing viciously at the air.
    Lan shivered with fear and, against all his better judgment, went into a brothel for the first time in his life.
    It was bright inside, lit with hanging lamps of every color. Plump red candles flickered on small tables, emitting a soft light and the scent of berries. Faint music piped from the speakers in the corner, and beings of various races and genders sat around on the oddly luxurious cushions and expensive rugs, sipping exotic-looking purple drinks from fluted glasses. Lan's head began to throb. There was another telepath somewhere around; the headache was always a sign. A heavily tattooed Belaari bartender stood polishing glasses and glaring around the room as if daring someone to make her work.
    "Prez! Doc!" An Andran woman in a pink silk robe drifted over to where they stood, a huge grin on her face. Her head was bald and shone with scented oil. " Ikarber . What is your pleasure today, gentlemen?" She looked at Lan and frowned. "Where is Flack?"
    This time Prez did not get down on his hands and knees. "Vix, this is my new co-pilot, Lan. Flack's... well, incapable at the moment. But he'll be back, as soon as we can track down a Malaihan."
    Vix chuckled. "Rat, was it?"
    "Spider."
    "Vitzi's Tears! That fellow is such trouble! Actually, there was a Malaihan in here yesterday, left