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"I can only presume Irena saw fit to transplant your partner’s image in your brain. Perhaps she surmised you may find the appearance of her people too alien for you to accept," he said tersely, making her wonder why he was being so aggressive, when he must know how she had come to be here.

  "And how is it I have this amazing body?" She ran trembling hands down her shapely hips. "So far I don’t know what my face looks like, for I haven’t seen it. But I do know I’m a lot taller than I was on Earth. And my hair has changed color and length." Still slightly fascinated by the change in her appearance, Melanie fingered a long tress.

  With innate grace he rose, moving to a panel with hundreds of buttons and knobs lined up on its face. Pressing one, he pointed a long finger to the wall opposite where she sat. "Your reflection."

  Melanie drew in a shocked breath as she got to her feet. A ceiling to floor mirror showed her image. "I’m beautiful," she whispered, touching a finger to her mouth. A mouth that was now wide and full, and certainly sensual. An incredibly attractive woman with slanting eyes of a deep shade of green returned her look. High cheekbones and an elegantly tilted nose made up a face usually seen in glossy magazines. In fact it reminded her of a well-known model. Then it came to her, this young girl had recently featured on a news program. She’d been chosen from hundreds to advertise a new line of cosmetics. Turning sideways, Melanie assessed this new person she saw before her. How odd this all was. And scary!

  Melanie Ross had disappeared. The woman who stared back at her was exquisite.

  "The image is an illusion," he explained, frightening her more than ever. He nodded curtly, pressing the button again. The mirror disappeared. "You have nothing to fear."

  "Kind of you to say so," she muttered. "I wish I could believe you."

  "Why would you need to feel fear? Have you not disembarked safely?"

  This was a fact in his favor. They could have exterminated her before she set foot on this planet. His mouth curved slightly in what she could only guess was his version of a smile.

  "Now, it is time to tell me all that brought you here," he said.

  Melanie gulped. She could no longer think of herself as the plain, blonde, slightly plump, frumpy, female she’d been on Earth. From now on she knew that person must be buried deep inside this new woman if she was to survive. She must learn to think of herself as Irena’s replacement or the confusion could send her batty.

  "I…" She chewed on her lower lip and he frowned as he watched the small movement. She found him very intimidating, frightening, yet admittedly fascinating. How could she ever think of this commanding man as being similar to her gentle and unassuming husband?

  Swallowing hard, she pulled on her ear. "Irena appeared to me in what I presume was a dream."

  He nodded abruptly.

  "Or I was in a trance. I really have no idea," she explained.

  "She would have reached into your mind," he said.

  "I guess so. Whatever." Melanie shrugged, staring at her hands gripping each other in front of her. "I was in deep trouble, you see. These thugs had killed my husband." Melanie stifled the urge to cry, sniffing back a tear. He looked at her strangely in intimidating silence. "The boss of the consortium kept ringing me up--"

  "Ringing up? What is this? And what is a husband?" he asked.

  Melanie wished he would lighten up. These Amaryllisans all seemed to be such a solemn lot. Perhaps they didn’t know how to laugh. And his eyes seemed to bore right through her. "Chris was my partner. The man I married. And ringing someone up means they speak on the phone. Like your Irena communicated by telepathy, we speak through an instrument. It’s called a phone."

  "Primitive." His lip curled in a sneer.

  "Right." She gave him a dirty look. "Primitive. Yes, well we’re still in our infancy on Earth compared to you from what I’ve seen so far. Look, do you want me to continue or not?" She was getting a mite fed up with his attitude.

  "Please continue with your fascinating saga," he prompted, flicking his hand at her.

  "Look mister, I detect a note of scorn in your tone," she snapped. "Like it or not, Irena decided I was a good candidate for sending back here with her spacecraft. The alternative was to blow it up, so I think you should be a little more grateful. She also stressed I should add to Shan’s warning it’s not safe for your people to spend more than two of our days and nights down there. She caught the flu--influenza. A virus that doesn’t always kill us, but is fatal for your people it seems."

  He nodded. "Shan has told me of this virus." He stared at his booted feet stretched out in front of him as he tapped his steepled fingers on his chin. " So, Irena chose you."

  "That’s so. Look, you have the ability to look into my thoughts, I know. You can see clearly what I say is the truth, so why do I sense you think I’m lying? Do you think I hijacked your blessed spaceship?"

  "You’re wrong. We do have the power to read each other’s thoughts. To submit messages into another’s brain. But for some reason I cannot read all your thought processes yet. It seems you have gained a lot of knowledge on the voyage, but are still lacking in some of our advanced skills."

  Melanie poked her chin at him pugnaciously. "Oh. That accounts for me not knowing what’s going on in your head."

  "Yes, this is so. Continue with your explanation if you will." Those brown eyes bored into hers.

  "Right." Melanie stared down at her hands again. Looking into his eyes was just too overwhelming. He seemed to have the power to see all her vulnerabilities and faults.

  "I was in a real fix. Trouble with a capital Tee. Chris left a letter exposing one of his associates in the police force. Then the boss of this drug ring, a man apparently known as The Baron, rang me up, threatening me." With a shudder, she recalled that deadly voice. "Irena honed in on me just when I needed help most and made the offer I take her place. You obviously know how she had the ability to find me." She glanced up. He still watched her with the fixed stare that unnerved her. "In return for her aid, I would bring the craft back here. You know the rest. A mobster was on my balcony trying to get in. He would have killed me if Irena hadn’t whisked me out of there when she did."

  "What is a gang? And a mobster?" The insolence in his tone was setting her teeth on edge.

  "A gang is a group of people who get together. In this instance to peddle drugs. Narcotics. Deadly drugs that muddle a person’s brain and send most of the addicts to an early grave. Unfortunately it is one of the modern day curses on our planet. Do you have anything like this here?"

  He shook his head slightly, and she shifted beneath his steady gaze. "We will get around to discussing Amaryllis later," he said. "Please continue with your explanation."

  "Right. This guy, this mobster, was after me. That’s a person who belongs to this gang. He was obviously sent to kill me." A deep shudder ran through her. All the encompassing terror was too fresh. Perhaps she would have died of fear before the killer even had the chance to do her in. "Irena reckoned I would be better off out of there. And to be honest, so did I after giving it some thought. It was either flee when I did or be killed."

  "Have you no others who could help you on your planet?" he asked, and Melanie sensed a slight softening in his attitude. "Surely there was someone you could turn to for aid."

  "I have no other relatives or close friends. There’s Pete, who’s Chris’s friend on the force. They worked together on this and past undercover jobs. But I needed help immediately." That sense of aloneness filled her anew. Melanie frowned. "Pete said he would make sure I was protected… But this thug got onto my balcony."

  "Perhaps this…Pete person was not to be relied on," he commented.

  "No, not Pete." She sounded defensive but she was still deeply puzzled as to how the man had got onto her balcony. If she was being guarded as Pete had promised, the police would have been watching all entrances to her apartment.

  He shrugged, and her eyes were drawn again to his broad shoulders. His body was altogether magnificent, graceful w
hile being filled with a brawny intimidating power. She’d rarely seen its like, in the flesh, so to speak.

  "You find my shape fascinating?" he said softly and Melanie’s head went back.

  "Fascinating? I guess you could say that," she admitted, with a self-conscious laugh. "On Earth someone as good looking as you would only be seen in movies or modeling. I have to tell you, this whole thing is really weird. Your face is Chris’s, but your body most definitely is not."

  "It’s not so strange really. I find your face and body just as odd. Soon you will not find it so puzzling." His half smile was enigmatic.

  "You do?" Melanie looked down at her magnificent shape and wondered why he found it odd. All the women she’d seen so far were just as shapely, and beautiful. That was certainly strange too. Perhaps all these Amaryllisans were perfect specimens. Or--a horrible thought hit her--perhaps they did away with anyone who didn’t come up to scratch, beauty-wise.

  His eyes were on her again, inscrutable. As if he knew exactly what she was thinking. Doubtless he did, with his extraordinary powers.

  "So," he said. "Irena sent you as her replacement. Something tells me she did not have a lot of time to make her choice."

  Melanie glared at him. "And something tells me you’re being sarcastic, mister."

  "My name is Reve, so why do you insist on calling me mister?" His eyes were as cold as Siberia in Winter.

  "I’m being sarcastic, as you are. You don’t seem awfully pleased to see me here." With a glance down, she took in her new form. "In this body. But it was Irena’s choice, and as you say, she was running out of time. By the way, she left a message for you in the craft. I have no idea what she said, but I’m sure she was explicit. Can I go to my quarters now? Or do you have further questions to ask me?" Her shoulders went back stiffly. What a pain in the neck he was proving to be. Still, there was one consolation. He wasn’t a repulsive alien. She had this to be grateful for. At least he was good to look at. After seeing some of the aliens in the Star Wars movies, what would their creators think of this very Earthly looking specimen?

  "I have many questions. But for now we will leave them."

  His expression was strange. Could he read everything in her mind? What a thought. She blushed.

  "I will see what Irena had to say. I will summon you when you have had time to acclimatize more." His voice remained bland.

  He held the flat of his hand over a fluorescent panel on his great wall of buttons and knobs and instantly a woman as tall as this new Melanie came through the door as it slid back. She was just as shapely and had the same flowing hair of titian. And wore exactly the same body-hugging clothes as Melanie. A clone? This idea seemed the likeliest, and most repulsive. Oh God! What if nothing but the brain remained of the old Melanie? While she still digested the ghastly idea, he made a small gesture towards her.

  "Bettrys, see that our new comrade is made comfortable. Put her in Irena’s quarters," he said.

  Bettrys opened her mouth. She was about to say something, perhaps put up an argument. But she closed it again when Reve gave her a stern look from beneath those imposing brows. Melanie didn’t blame her. She found him more than a tad scary too.

  "Come," Bettrys said in a lilting voice. "Follow me."

  Melanie gave the commander a brief glance. He still stared at her in a perturbing way. She went out with Bettrys. Melanie trailed her escort down the corridor and then drew in a shuddery breath when they entered an elevator. The instant the doors closed, strange letters on a screen proclaimed they were traveling past many levels, but she couldn’t feel any movement, except for the butterflies cavorting about in her stomach.

  "You were sent here by Irena," Bettrys said. "What name should we address you by?"

  "My name’s Melanie."

  Bettrys nodded briefly. She hadn’t smiled yet either--seemed morose, in fact. The big boss, Reve, hadn’t cracked his face, but then he was highly suspicious. It was to be expected. Miserable lot.

  The door slid open and with a sigh of relief Melanie followed Bettrys out.

  Melanie's relief soon disappeared. Bettrys and she were in another small, enclosed lobby. Was everything windowless here? Her claustrophobia was making her feel quite ill.

  The Amaryllisan tapped a code on a set of buttons and another door slid soundlessly back. "This is Irena’s place of rest."

  ~ * ~

  They went into what could only be termed a cell. A windowless cell.

  Bettrys pointed to another raised panel on a sort of bench, vaguely like a vanity unit. "If you need anything at all, hold the flat of your hand over here."

  "This is Irena’s room?" Melanie wiped her hands that had begun to perspire down the sides of her pants. "But surely there’s somewhere else I can go. I can’t stay here. It’s almost as small as the elevator." Fear sounded in her voice. The walls seemed to be closing in on her. Breathless, she looked about but kept by the doorway in case she should be inadvertently trapped inside the confining space.

  "You are not happy with your quarters?" Bettrys looked and sounded puzzled.

  "Look, you people may be used to living in the equivalent of a sardine can, but I can’t stand it. Please find me somewhere else to go," Melanie pleaded. There was a bunk set into one wall with barely a foot of breathing space above it, a screen set in the wall near the vanity unit, and nothing else. No way would she be able to rest comfortably in here. Just the thought of being shut in made her insides quake.

  "I will see what Commander Reve has to suggest," Bettrys said slowly, staring at Melanie as if she was an escapee from a lunatic asylum. She held her palm over the panel she’d pointed out. Immediately it began to glow. Bettrys tapped out a code and in a second his handsome face came on the screen.

  "What is it, Bettrys?" he asked impatiently.

  She gave Melanie a brief look. It spoke volumes. "This woman wishes to be moved to other quarters, Commander Reve."

  "Other quarters?" He appeared to be just as astonished. "We have no other place for her to go. Why do you wish to go elsewhere?" he bit out.

  Melanie swallowed her apprehension and hated to admit to this man how scared she was. "I can’t stand being shut up in this small space without a window. Please, can I go somewhere where I can see out? I hate to be a bother." She glanced quickly about. "I get claustrophobia." Heavens, she sounded neurotic.

  "What exactly is this? Another of your strange diseases you have brought with you from Earth?" The small sound of disgust he made was probably an Amaryllisan curse.

  Melanie squared her shoulders. "No, it’s not a disease. It’s more what you would call a phobia. If I get shut in this tin can I’ll go bonkers." She tossed her head to push back the unfamiliar hair.

  "Bonkers?"

  "Nuts. Mad!" she enunciated.

  "We cannot have you going nuts can we?"

  For the first time Melanie thought she glimpsed a soft lightening of the glower that had darkened his eyes ever since she’d met him.

  "Put our visitor in my quarters, Bettrys," he ordered brusquely, disappearing instantly from the screen.

  Bettrys looked startled. "Come, I will take you to the Commander’s chamber." Her voice held no emotion.

  "But…" Melanie sucked in her lower lip. About to argue she had no wish to go anywhere near this Reve’s chamber, she changed her mind when she glanced about. Anywhere was better than this cell. The big boss’s room had to be bigger surely. Once the door was closed, without a doubt she would have gone straight into panic mode.

  Five

  Going up in the elevator again, Melanie and Bettrys went one level higher than where Melanie had first met Reve.

  "Your chamber on Amaryllis is much larger than the chamber you hated up here, so I expect the Commander will have you sent there." Bettrys led Melanie out when the door slid soundlessly open. They went straight into a high ceilinged room, much more spacious than Irena’s cell. A viewing window took up almost one wall. Although pitch black outside now, patches of light from
the platforms where the Amaryllisan population lived was illuminated.

  The outside temperature was freezing during these short hours of darkness, but inside their structures the people would be warm in the temperature controlled buildings. Rain beat against the window. It rained every night, which accounted for the high water level.

  "You have recovered from your…phobia?"

  Melanie jumped as if scalded as she turned to face Reve. The commander had entered as silently as a panther stalking his prey. Bettrys had gone.

  She pressed a hand to her middle while she took a deep breath. "You startled me."

  "I apologize," he said smoothly. "It was not my intention. Please be seated. Make yourself comfortable. I repeat. Have you recovered?"

  Melanie looked about and then perched herself on the edge of one of two couches shaped like boomerangs. For the first time she took note of the rest of the room. It was certainly a lot more comfortable than the stifling room where she’d been taken. Wonder if Irena had shared it with him, or if she’d spent her nights in that horrible cell?

  "I feel better, yes. Thank you for being so thoughtful. It’s just that I can’t abide being shut in enclosed spaces, if you know what I mean. It’s something that’s been with me since a child."

  He gave a grave nod and sat opposite her on the other couch. Indolently, he stretched his long legs out in front of him. His fingers forming a steeple beneath his chin, he stared at her until Melanie began to feel uneasy again.

  "There was some occurrence in your formative years to give you this phobia?" he asked then.

  "I…well, yes. I was brought up in an orphanage, then foster homes. One of my foster-mothers thought when her charges were naughty that the ideal punishment was to lock them up in the cupboard." As the old fear resurfaced, Melanie looked down at her hands, folding and unfolding them on her lap. The fear of a ten year old, left for hours amid the smelly shoes and coats, without food or water, not knowing how long she would be left to suffer such purgatory.

  "I am not sure what you mean by orphanage," he said in his deep voice that sent her insides into a roller-coaster spin.