barely the size of a bathing chamber in his palace.
There was plenty of work to be done here. Looking down, he saw bits of paper and cigarette butts on the floor. A dark stain marred the beautiful wood under a broken window where it had begun to rot. The kitchen wasn’t modern, even by Earth standards. He couldn’t add a replicating device even if it had been. According to the information they’d gathered, replicators weren’t available on this world.
Niklas didn’t know what they would do for food. He had never handled raw foodstuffs before, and he didn’t dare eat anything Minra prepared unless he suddenly became suicidal he thought with a grimace.
On any other planet, he would have contacted the government for permission to dock or just set the ship down in an unpopulated area if they weren’t advanced enough to contact. He couldn’t do that here. According to what they learned from their history, this world loved warring, and there were too many airplanes which could fly over any remote area and spot his ship. Even though Niklas knew he would win any armed conflict, he didn’t want it to come to that. As it was, the crew had to leave him here with Minra, until they could find a permanent way to fool their radar. Right now, the Conquest remained well hidden behind the planet’s single moon.
Niklas leaned against the doorjamb, resting his head on the cool wood. The subliminal disks had been extremely out of date. It took Reva forever to gather the data they needed to make sure everyone, especially him, would be able to function on the surface like they’d been born here. There were still a few, Minra for example, who needed to spend more time with the revised discs.
He shook his head. It had been far too long since his world had sent a scout vessel to study these people. Earth was so far out of the loop of contacted worlds, they had ignored it for over a hundred and fifty years. That must never happen again. He had been prepared to appear on the surface carrying a replicated weapon on his hip, based on past information. It wouldn’t have taken long to get arrested by the authorities, and with no identification, he would have had a very difficult time getting himself out of that predicament.
Niklas rubbed the back of his neck. He could feel another headache coming on. They were becoming far too regular. So much so, it was beginning to feel strange to not have the familiar sore neck and ache between his eyes. He’d need to lie down soon, a circumstance he awaited with mixed feelings. When he slept, he dreamt of a woman calling to him. Whenever he tried to force her image through the haze of his subconscious mind, he woke abruptly. The headache always preceded the dreams. Stopping by the kitchen, he needed to inform Minra that he was going out. She leaned against the counter, watching the cat drink milk from a small bowl. She turned when he entered the room. “I’m going to go out for a walk. I’ll try to find something for us to eat while I am gone.”
Nodding, she hitched her shoulder. “Be safe, sir.”
He inclined his head and stood in the hallway for a minute studying her. It was too bad she wasn’t much of a cook, either. There wasn’t a better engineer in the fleet, but when it came to more traditional womanly pursuits, she was at a loss.
Since his feet were his only mode of transportation, at the moment, he walked toward the main road. Oddly enough, it was called Main Street. It seemed as though he’d been walking forever when Niklas finally found a place with merchants. He sighed, relieved to see the muted light of neon signs glowing stubbornly through the fog.
He entered the shopping center, following his nose to the nearest restaurant, his mouth watering at the wonderful scents. Niklas read the sign and tried to remember the word pizza from the subliminal disks. A flat disk-like pie made with vegetables or animal flesh. It didn’t sound very appetizing, but it smelled good. He shrugged.
Elle Thorne, Shifters Forever