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Ospar and Rajhir also raised their glasses to their companion, who shook his head but finally managed to smile.
They moved on to different topics, but Ospar couldn’t stop thinking how he wished he could be in a position to battle the problems he sensed coming. Those Earthtiques needed to be kept on a short leash, and he feared Kalquor’s Royal Council wouldn’t bother itself to do so until it was too late.
After a couple of hours, the party was finally showing signs of winding down. The musicians had wrapped up their set half an hour before. Matt Larsen sat on the edge of the stage under the eye of a protective Nobek bodyguard. He signed autographs, took pictures, and happily chatted with his fans. It wasn’t only Earthers crowded around him with worshipful gazes; a number of the Kalquorians in attendance, a handful of Plasians, and a trio of excitedly trilling Joshadans pressed close to gain his attention. They appeared more impressed by him than the Imperial Clan or the rest of the dignitaries.
Stacy was delighted at the young man’s kindness in taking the time to visit with his ardent followers. She hadn’t thought to include an autograph or chat session. She’d remember his generosity for future events, even if he did cost a lot to hire.
He was bidding the fans goodbye and Stacy was heading his way to thank him when distant shouts got everyone’s attention. As one, the group celebrating the official opening of Earth II turned to the concourse of the landing bay.
A crowd of perhaps sixty people, all humans, were marching toward them. They waved placards screaming slogans, includingEarth is for Earthers,My Planet My Rules, andNo Alien Influence.
Their shouts were a chant of the first of these signs: “Earth is for Earthers! Earth is for Earthers! Earth is for Earthers!”
The human members of Kuran’s security detail hurried to form a line between the protestors and the celebrants. Royal Guards surrounded the Imperial Clan. The Kalquorian portion of Kuran’s team stayed back, guarding the guests. Kuran himself was at Stacy’s side in an instant.
“Who the hell are they? Oh shit, the reporter!” She noticed Blythe Nelson rushing forward, her drone zooming ahead and taking position between advancing security and demonstrators. “So much for my perfect press.”
Kuran tapped on his handheld, his gaze moving constantly between it and the picketers, who were already being grabbed and cuffed by security. “I’m checking security vid footage. It looks like they came in on a transport supposedly bringing in supplies.”
She watched as a couple of men among the protestors yelled belligerently at the security trying to detain them. “What happens now?”
“We’ll take them to security headquarters, question them, and find out if they’re alone as far as dissenters are concerned. I’ll trace the ownership of the transport and discover if he or she was part of this. Must be; it’s costly to hire a transport that might be impounded or claimed by the affronted party, which would be you and your government.” He glanced at her as the last of the demonstrators were led away, having not gotten in striking distance of the muttering celebrants. “You and your guests were never in danger. I had it handled.”
“I know you did. I wasn’t scared, just pissed off.” She made a face, spotting the reporter interviewing Ken Bryant. Heaven only knew what he was saying about the protestors.
“I’ll be glad to help ease your tensions later tonight.” His low voice was accompanied by a lecherous grin, which flashed on and off so fast, anyone besides her who’d noticed would doubt it had actually happened.
“I’ll hold you to that.”
* * * *
Alpha Space Station, Admiral Tranis’ guest quarters
Tranis grinned at the three figures who suddenly erupted in his room. His clanmates answered his grin, warming his heart.
His Imdiko Degorsk was the first to speak. “It’s our wandering Dramok, remembering he has a clan elsewhere. You do plan to return to us in the near future?”
“Tomorrow,” he told the tall psychiatrist with a penchant for bad jokes and pranks. “The lab tests all came back clean.”
“Thank God.” Cassidy’s platinum blond hair was ass-length, as long as Degork’s black braid, but she let it hang loose. Tranis’ heart beat faster as he took in his curvy Matara, whose pale skin was flushed. “I might run a few tests of my own when you get home.”
“I bet you will,” Degorsk teased her.
She rolled her eyes and gave him an admonitory nudge. “Medical tests, you goof. It isn’t normal to have low blood sugar if you’ve been eating properly.”
“I’ve felt fine since the episode. It was probably stress,” Tranis assured her, though he had no illusions of her carrying out an exam of a non-fun nature. Barely thirty and already a noted biologist and infectious diseases expert on Kalquor and beyond, Cassidy lived and breathed her work.
“Stress can elevate blood sugar, not decrease it. I want to check.”
“Yes, my Matara.” Pride might have once caused Tranis to fend off such fuss, but his woman wasn’t to be denied when she was determined to have her way.
“Was Piras part of your stress?” The question, spoken in a quiet rumble, came from their Nobek.
Tranis pretended he didn’t wonder if the query was an oblique attempt to hear news about the man Lidon once considered his future Dramok. Lidon had broken off their promised clanship to choose Tranis instead, after all.
Besides, if Lidon wanted information on Piras, he had no issues about asking outright.
“Piras was perfectly fine, except he happened to be there when the momentary lightheadedness occurred. He took too much pleasure in ordering me to get the lab work.”
