Chief Sandili Kala walked the corridors of the Terran apartment building at a steady moderate pace, trying to appear alert and confident. It wouldn’t help matters if everyone knew how bored and frustrated he was. “Security Chief” sounded important until you tacked on the “In Training.” Not that Chief Tawrl would let Sandy forget it for a moment. Nor would Chief Tawrl, an Anuran, ever forgive the Titans for letting a mere Terran replace him.
Replace him eventually. Sandy suspected that sometimes Tawrl added the thought, “Over my dead body.”
For now, Sandy had to walk a beat through the Terran sector, and do every nasty job Tawrl could think up. Sandy used this as an opportunity to get to know everyone, or at least every Terran, on board. However, the apartment corridors were deserted. Occasionally he might hear some normal sound or two from an apartment, but he had no reason to stop and knock on any doors. Unless there was some sort of security trouble, he had to keep walking.
At the corner lobby where the apartment building adjoined the North Bazaar, Sandy saw a few people waiting for the express elevator. He recognized the two women, but introduced himself again anyway. “Hello, I’m Sandili Kala, the new Security Chief.”
He shook hands with each of them.
“Eric Swinson. Nice to meet you.” Male, tall, thin, receeding brown hair, brown eyes, in a pilot’s uniform, but relaxed, not making trouble.
“Jana Olton. We met yesterday.” Female, tall, thin, curly brown hair, hazel eyes, pretty, clingy little black dress, bubblingly happy, with Eric for the evening, but trying to surreptitiously check others out.
“Dahlia Haswell.” Female, average height, plump, long dark hair, brown eyes, lacey little black dress.
“We also met yesterday.” Dahlia tugged on Sandy’s hand rather than release it. “Why don’t you come with us to JoJo’s?”
“Sorry, not tonight,” Sandy said.
“If you’d rather, we could lose these two and just go to my place,” Dahlia said, winking at Sandy.
Jana snorted.
“Sorry. I’m on duty.” Sandy reclaimed his hand. “I’m walking a beat tonight, but you go ahead and have a good time.”
Luckily the express arrived, and the three got on board.
He headed up to the next floor and down the next corridor. He almost wished he could go with them. Almost. He recognized the club’s name. It was the place the head Terran sociologist had been trying to convince him to visit. A moment’s thought brought her vital statistics to Sandy’s mind. Dr. Aleah Danby, average height, blond hair, blue eyes, killer curves, and a mind like a terrier: fast, frantic, and won’t let go. She appeared on two of his mental lists, “Not Likely to be a Security Problem” and “Avoid at all Costs.”
So far most of the women he’d met were chasing after him, and hinting that he’d be welcome to drop by their place. Not that Sandy minded, but Tawrl seemed determined to keep him from anything that might be associated with fun. And it was beginning to be a bit intimidating to be constantly surrounded by eager, hungry, demanding women.
Dr. Danby believed in healthful forthrightness in her social dealings, and made no secret of her pursuit, even informing other women that she wanted him. It reminded him uneasily of teenage girls warning others away from a boy they had only just met. It seemed childish.
Up another floor to the fourteenth, back again towards the North Bazaar. Sandy had only a very short list of people he suspected would be security problems. With only about four thousand Terrans it was fairly simple to pick out the troublemakers, and most were in the group of five hundred Terrans under age twenty-one.
As Sandy approached the end of the fourteenth corridor, a door suddenly burst open, and a woman ran out, straight at him. He mentally filed her vital statistics as he braced himself for impact.
Female, average height, dark hair, dark eyes, brown skin, wearing a fuzzy green robe and garishly colored swimsuit that emphasized enchanting curves. She looked frightened, tired, and oddly determined. She plowed right into him, head down like a battering ram against his solar plexus. Sandy absorbed the blow with a forced grunt, remaining standing in place. She bounced off him, and his arms went around her to catch her and keep her from falling. She felt oddly small and vulnerable, tottering in his grasp to find her balance, her hands clutching his sleeves, and she appeared confused as she stared at his shirt front.
“Is everything all right?” Sandy asked, trying to sound gentle and not out of breath from a blow.
* * *
About the author:
Hollis hails from the great state of Missouri. Fascinated with science at an early age, she found herself creating aliens out of clay, tinker-toys, and whatever came to hand. Disappointingly lightning did not bring them to life. Apparently you can’t believe everything you read. Since she couldn’t bring them to life for real, she decided to bring them to life on paper. Always a loner she has spurned social media, but hopes to acquire a web site in the future. Everyone says she has to have one.
About the cover artists:
Alan L. Lickiss lives in Colorado with his wife, Rebecca, their children, and an ever changing variety of pets the children just can’t seem to live without. He works, he writes, he’s an avid photographer. See more of his artwork at: https://cophotog.deviantart.com/
Jacob Lickiss recently began creating interesting backgrounds along with the other things he does (programming, school, creating robots, etc.). You can see more of his backgrounds and other artwork at: https://towneater.deviantart.com
Rebecca Lickiss began telling stories at an early age. She’s recently discovered that the miracle that is photoshop can make up entirely for the fact that she can’t draw a straight line.
Discover other books and short stories at www.vikinghorde.com
Also due for release in 2012 from Viking Horde Media:
Final Exams by Hollis Rentchler
Fhe, the legally non-existent reproductive half of a Rcyyt, must discover who murdered Uar’s, his other-half's, professor as they get caught in a web of blackmail and deceit.
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