“But… Oh, fine.” Violet settled back in her seat. “When we get there, we’ll call Starcrossed and ask them to pick us up,” she said to Dorcas, tapping her comm bracelet. It was sort of like a super-advanced smartphone. She could tap it and tell it to call Zura, or Starcrossed headquarters, or Dorcas, who also wore a comm bracelet.
She had an odd, completely irrational urge to call Treffon. Being near him made her feel perfectly safe and somehow…at ease. But that was just her nerves working on her, she knew; he had already made it clear that she didn’t mean anything to him. Not only that, if he was at the Starcrossed party, he was probably just on the prowl for some nookie. She knew that some Vulfans did that, either because they despaired of meeting their true mates, or they were passing the time until the right woman came along.
The hoverbus sliced through the dark night, soaring over the moonlit landscape. The city of Donnelle faded into the distance as they flew over forests of strange, spiral-shaped trees.
“I’m going to give them a piece of my mind, that’s for sure,” Dorcas muttered indignantly. “Lousy service, exploding taxis... I’m going to give them a zero-stars review, that’s what I’ll do. That’ll show them. What’s the Ilyrian version of Twelp?”
Violet gave her aunt a sidelong look. “Do you mean Yelp, or do you mean Twitter?”
“Whatever. I’m complaining to both of them. I’ll Twit them like they’ve never been Twitted before. Then I’ll Yelp so loud their ears will bleed.”
“I’m sure you will,” Violet said, rolling her eyes. She didn’t bother to ask who, specifically, Dorcas was going to complain about, because that would just subject her to another barrage of technologically illiterate griping.
Dorcas kept mumbling rebelliously for the entire half-hour trip, while Violet leaned back in her seat and tried to enjoy the view. It was hard to do when she was alternating between worrying about her stalker and burning with mortification at how Treffon had humiliated her.
* * * * *
The resettlement center was a scene of barely contained chaos. There was a long, ugly rectangular building that had been set down smack in a clearing in the middle of the forest. There were rows of white-domed tents set among towering trees. Aliens from half a dozen species milled about or gathered in clusters, and they did not appear happy. There were shrill alien laments piercing the night air, and people pushing and shoving each other.
There didn’t appear to be enough guards to deal with them all. She only spotted six of them, walking around chatting with each other and mostly ignoring the aliens. The guards were made up from several different humanoid races, and they all wore the same uniform – black and silver, with an insignia of the Milky Way galaxy on their chests.
Each time the arguments got to the point of actual fighting, several guards rushed forward, jabbing with metal sticks that sent up showers of white sparks, and the aliens screamed in pain and scattered.
The guards were members of the Galactic Federation’s Peacemakers; Violet had learned that in orientation.
The volunteers all headed to the rectangular building. Violet stood there trying to decide what to do next. The bus was already leaving, rising high into the night sky.
She couldn’t help feeling badly for the aliens.
“Dorcas, we should tell the people at Starcrossed what a mess it is here. Maybe they could— Dorcas?”
Frantic, she looked around. She’d liked it better when her great-aunt had needed her cane to walk; she’d been easier to keep track of. A mobile Dorcas was a dangerous Dorcas.
Dorcas was bearing down on a tall, horned alien who had just snatched a piece of fruit from a short, squat, troll-like creature.
Dorcas whacked the alien’s hand hard with her cane, making him drop the fruit. Violet froze – the alien was literally twice Dorcas’ height – but he just made a spitting noise at her, then turned and ran. The troll-creature grabbed the fruit and scampered off.
Violet waved one of the guards over. “Excuse me, that – thatcreaturestole food from one of the other aliens!” she said, pointing. “He should be arrested.”
“Detention hut is full,” the guard grunted. He had silver scales and marble-black eyes with no whites. His teeth were disturbingly pointy.
“Well, that doesn’t sound good.” She looked around. “Why aren’t there more guards here?”
He gave a hiss of annoyance, scowling at the various aliens scampering around. “These are all members of less advanced species. None of them are our trading partners. Not our top priority. We’re here to keep them rounded up in one spot so they don’t make any trouble, until we can send them back home.” He hissed again. “If they have homes to return to. The cyborgs have targeted their solar system.”
She started to ask him another question, but he walked off, looking bored.
She looked around for Dorcas, who had wandered off again and was about to whack an insectoid with her cane.
“Oh no you don’t!” She grabbed Dorcas’ arm and led her away. “We’re going to get Starcrossed to come pick us up, and we’ll tell them about the situation here. Quit trying to make everyone behave. Sooner or later you’re going to whack the wrong alien, and it’s going to eat you.”
“I’d like to see them try.” Dorcas glared at the insectoid. Its antennae drooped and it hurried off. Then she surveyed the whole area, hands on hips. “Doesn’t look like anybody here plays cards,” she complained.
“They’re all homeless and poor, so you’d feel bad about fleecing them anyway.”
Dorcas sighed. “True, true. I like fleecing rich people.”
Violet firmly pressed on the blue button on her Comm. Normally it made a little answering pulse sound; this time it was silent.
