Angela Verdenius Read Online Free Page A

with slickness, a shade of blue with bigger skin cells, a gleam of dull green with minute bumps, a pearl colour with a rougher texture, while others simply had the same skin colour and texture as Molly. 
    Some of the Narcs had vaguely alien faces, a twist of the mouth, an extra eye, a shimmer of silver hair, a light furring on their skin, extra or less fingers, and other small peculiarities that marked the different alien genes in their background.  But the basic human gene dominated regardless.
    He glanced down to see her studying him closely.  Knowing exactly what she was looking for, he simply looked away.  She wanted to know what alien he had in him, but wasn’t rude enough to ask-
    “What alien species have you got in you?” she asked.
    There went that idea.  “Someone with manners wouldn’t ask,” he replied stiffly.
    “Someone who is five thousand years old can be forgiven anything.”  She pursed those luscious - did he really just think that? - lips and regarded him.  “A faint silver tinge to your skin.  No horns.” She caught him off-guard by reaching out and sliding one finger down his hand, leaving a little tingling trail.  “Skin feels a little tougher than normal but not rhino hide tough.  No extra fingers by the look of it.  I wonder…” 
    Surely to Saturn her eyes didn’t just fall to his crotch!
    They had, those big blue eyes scanning him quickly before she looked up to meet his incredulous eyes. 
    At least she had the grace to blush.  “Sorry.”
    Stiffly he turned his head forward again.
    “But you can’t blame me for wondering,” she went on, obviously rallying quickly.  “So tell me.  What alien race?”
    The door to the Meeting Room loomed up.  “Your questions can be answered later.”  As the door slid open, he stood to the side and waited.
    She waited, too.
    He raised his eyebrows.
    “I go in?” she asked, quite needlessly, he thought.
    “Of course.”
    “I was just wondering.  In case.  You know…”
    “No, I don’t.” 
    “How weird looking is the General?”
    He could feel his control slip a little.  No, wait.  That was his jaw dropping a bit.  “What?”
    “I don’t want to stare if he’s a little…you know…weird.  It wouldn’t be polite.”
    Maybe there was more wrong with this woman than anyone realized.  Alsandair shook his head.  No, he was overreacting.  Of course she’d be a little fearful.  He had to remember what she was, where she’d come from.  Inclining his head slightly, he replied, “He looks like us.  Now go in and sit down, and he will talk to you.”
    Molly gave him one dubious look before striding past him, hips swaying and brown curls bouncing on her shoulders. 
    Which he shouldn’t have noticed.
    Sighing to himself, Alsandair followed her inside, his two soldiers stationing themselves each side of the doorway as it closed behind him.
    ~*~
    Narc Section Five
    Visitors Space Station
    Deep Space
     
    “This is a stupid idea,” Squiggy stated, crunching through a spliced carrotturnip with sharp teeth.  “Even for you.”
    “Thank you,” Cujo replied modestly.  “I do my best.”
    Squiggy watched as a robot rolled up to their table, the many shelves suspended above it on little ramps holding a selection of desserts and drinks.
    Cujo took a thick slice of bazen cake, the green icing swirling in upon itself then stretching out to coat the entire sides of the cake slice, before curling back and making rosette patterns on the crumbly surface.  The credit camera flipped out of the side on a little flexible arm, scanned over Cujo’s eyes, registered the amount of credit owing, and retreated.  The robot slid away to the next table.
    “If you think we’re going to get away with nosing around and finding out the treasure-” Squiggy began for the third time.
    “Of course we’re going to find out.”  Cujo chased the icing around the cake with his tongue.  “Damn it.”
    The icing reared back but