Chapter 4

Rain fell from the sky with the same intensity that light radiates from the sun.

It was not a steady shower, unvaried in its force. The downfall seemed to ebb and flow as black clouds moved overhead, creating interesting variations that could be seen by any foolish enough to be outside. Moving a short distance in any direction could take you from painful, knife like drops to a gentle, almost morning dew like, heavy humidity.

Mary, walking under her mother's umbrella, looked out in awe.

Dad hadn't liked to travel. Had not, really, liked leaving his comfort zone. This had never bothered Mary growing up. Naturally, as most children do, she considered whatever her family was like as "normal", compared with the strangeness that was other families. Normal was staying in your hometown. Oh, the occasional visit downtown, or even the next city over, but no farther. Even week long summer camp stays were just an hour from home.

Now, here she was. On an alien planet. Far from the familiar home of Rochester, of Buffalo.

Far from Dad.

"I wish Dad was here."

She looked up at her Mom. The beautiful woman of her dreams was still, at least a little, a stranger. Her actions, manner of speech, movements, were new, unexpected. Not the comfortable familiarity that are a part of every child's view of what defines their parents. She no longer had doubts that this WAS her mother, at least. Three days together had overcome that. That inner knowledge, though, came with the realization that maybe this wasn't a dream. That, maybe, she really was here. That, maybe ... she wouldn't see Dad again.

She had spent her entire life with him, dreaming of her mother. Would she now spend the rest of her life with her, dreaming of him? Was life that unfair?

Her mother looked down, smiling an uncertain smile.

"Me too, Honey."

Mary looked back over their shoulder at the receding ship, already almost hidden by the rain. The design, seen from the outside, was ... cool. The body was shaped like a huge football, at long as a football field if not longer. Its lower half looked to be made of polished wood, glistening in the rain. The upper clear dome almost seemed to be made of waterfalls, as the rain fell against it and ran down the sides. Forty foot diameter spheres attached to either end, the bridge and the engines, the latter having smaller spheres attached to it of unknown function. The ship lay in a metal cradle seemingly custom fit to the craft, gangway and stairs attached to the side of the bridge where the hatch lay.

Beyond the ship ... she could see nothing. Just looming shapes in the rain.

Her mother stopped, Mary, having enough awareness, managed to stop before walking out from under the umbrella. Ten feet in front of them, Daium, Chuck, and Anthony were stopped before...

"Mom..."

It was a slug.

A giant, eight foot long, five foot tall slug. With two arms. Mary stepped closer to her mother.

"Yes, I know. Just don't stare. You'll be seeing a lot more. Just remember what we've told you, and stay near us."

Being told, and knowing, are two different things. Even the video footage they had shown her hadn't really sunk in. After all, movies are full of fake things! But, this ... this was real.

Too real.

"You have got to be shitting me."

Daium almost winced at Anthony's words. She hated, more than anything, disappointing him. Them. Her human friends. They put their trust in her. Trusted her to help navigate this universe, to give them the information they needed to decide. Only she had managed to learn the Common language (even Rinda wasn't able to handle its complicated syntax). Only she could link them to the universe.

And she'd fucked up.

"I'm sorry, Anthony. I didn't know..."

"We all saw the info on this planet, Daium," Chuck said, shifting the umbrella in his hand. "Don't blame yourself. Blame reality. I know I do."

"Reality is the cause of most of our problems," Anthony agreed. The three of them, as one, looked at the slug dock master. It stood there, looking at the non-slimy creatures, waiting for their babbling to end so Daium could answer his demand. What that answer could be, she didn't know. The Inimesed, it seemed, no longer used gold, in any form, for their economy. Oh, they had, up until the previous year. It may not have been the basis for their currency, but at least it had value, and could be exchanged for money. Now...

"What the heck are they using?" Chuck asked. Daium sighed.

"Nothing. Just numbers in the computer, or printed slips of plastic. Once the economy collapsed, they decided that since they didn't actually use gold for anything it had no value. They have TONS of the stuff, just sitting around, so we can't even sell what we have in exchange for currency. At least, not at a rate we'd want to."

"So we can't even pay docking fees, let alone anything else." Chuck turned, looking back. Daium followed his gaze. The others stood under a half dozen umbrellas, waiting. As usual on these planetary trips, they were dressed in their homemade uniforms: the males in black jeans, the girls (apart from Goldie) in skirts of various colors. The humans also had white shirts, with an orange Bells logo on the right breast, while she and Rinda had the traditional Orang suspenders with integrated bra cubs. An orange Bells logo had been woven into the right bra cup of each. Even Mary was in uniform, one of Nona's cut down for her use.

Daium's eyes caught Rinda's. Her cousin crossed her arms, hugging herself, shivering, her pregnant belly exposed to the elements. She saw Chuck notice that as well. He shook his head.

"We either stay or go, but we have to do it quick. We can't keep the girls in the rain."

"Maybe," Anthony said, "we can sell something? Daium?"

"What do we have? Flowers? I'm not selling off droids, that's for sure."

A shape approached. The head of the slug turned, rain seemingly not bothering the creature. A moment later, the sound of a motor came to Daium's ears, quickly followed by the dark blob resolving itself into a long, rectangular, grey bus. It had four headlights, rectangular in shape, set below a four pane rectangular windshield. Eight brown wheels leaving a wake behind them on the flooded tarmac, it came to a stop just behind the dock master. The rectangular side door opened, and the driver stepped out.

The white furred, four armed monkeys were the reason they were here. Almost as tall as humans, the simian Personnes race was close enough to Humans and Orang that there was some hope they could help with the coming births. If nothing else, their hospitals would provide backup if Nona's basic skills proved inadequate.

Maybe.

The driver ambled up next to the slug. He, Daium assumed it was a he, wore a garish plaid rain poncho, complete with hood. His gaze swung between the dock master and the aliens, more curious than impatient. Removing a white stick, about the length of a finger, from his pocket, the Personnes put one end in his mouth. Protecting it from the rain with one hand, the other brought a small metal box out of its other pocket. Bringing it up to the stick, he pressed a button. A moment later, the end of the stick began to glow, white smoke coming from it.

"Quel est le probleme?"

Daium turned to Anthony. She was all set to give up. They had no money, she had no idea what this guy had just said...

The look on the dark haired man's face froze her words in her throat. It was ... surprise, and ... hope?

About time they had some.

Anthony couldn't believe it.

Not the French part. They had expected that, part of the 'what the fuck' nature of the universe they found themselves in. No, it was the smoking. Could it be this easy?

"Excuse me, Sir," he said, trying to dredge up long forgotten high school French. The monkey turned his attention to him, eyebrows raised. "I am not good at this language, so forgive any mistakes."

"I would not expect a hairless being to be otherwise! Are you the ones who called?"

"Yes. I am Captain Anthony. We would like transport to your settlement. However, we have a problem: we were not aware of the new ... money situation here." Anthony shrugged. "We are barbarians."

The driver nodded. Again, he expected no less.

"However ... I see your people smoke. Is it ... tobacco?"

His eyes widened.

"Yes! Very rare! Your kind know of it?"

"Well..." Anthony tried to play it calm. "Our people have grown tobacco for centuries. In fact, while my crew does not smoke, we happen to have a rather large supply. Maybe you know of buyers... ?"

They were back on the ship.

Melinda shifted on the garden bench. Junior was being difficult today. She could feel him moving around inside her, restless. With luck, he wasn't looking for the exit quite yet, although God knows she was ready to pop the little guy out. He'd have to wait. As usual, things had taken an unusual turn.

She sat back, watching Anthony and Tammy through the store window, up behind the store counter next to the office. Samples of each brand of cigarette and cigar were laid out on the orange counter, Anthony giving a sales pitch while Tammy tallied up their inventory. The chimp, now out of his rain slicker and wearing a rather dapper purple striped chauffeur's uniform, was on a cell phone talking to a friend who know a guy whose uncle dealt with the stuff.

She felt like they were doing a drug deal.

"They speak French."

Melinda looked at the young girl next to her. Mary had that familiar shell shocked look, gone for so long from her companions. It was almost comforting, in a way, to be reminded that, yes, this was stupid.

"Yeah. We knew that going in. Took us embarrassingly long to figure out what was going on out here, language wise, but that was mostly because we spoke so few languages among us."

Mary looked confused. Another familiar expression around here.

"What?"

"Well, see, when we found Daium she spoke Malay. Which Nona spoke. So we were like, OK, this is weird, but whatever. It's a nice coincidence. Then we meet a bunch of other species, who we can't understand at all, which is kind of what you'd expect, right?" Junior kicked again. "Oh, hold your horses, I'll feed you soon enough. It's like having an alien in you," she confided to Mary. The teen giggled, eyes glancing over at the other pregnant women sitting around the garden, waiting. Melinda took the girl's hand and placed it on her belly. Her eyes shot back as Junior punched this time.