Starman by Alan Dean Foster

Author:Alan Dean Foster
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 0446325988
Publisher: Warner Books
Published: 1984-12-07T08:00:00+00:00

Six

Jenny had been blinking and shaking her head, trying to stay awake, for the past hour. Now even the head shakes were failing to clear her vision. Her passenger remarked on it.

“Is something wrong, Jennyhayden?”

“Yeah something’s wrong. I’m pooped is what’s wrong. Tired. It’s time to rest. Remember, I told you about it?”

He nodded. “I remember. What do we do?”

“The same thing my people do whenever they need something and they’re out traveling like this. When you need gas you find a gas station. Food, you find a food station.” She was scanning the highway ahead. “There’s a small town coming up. Should be something out on the freeway exit. We need to find a motel. A sleep station, I guess you’d call it.”

She eased the Mustang down the off-ramp, flanked by several large, well-lit signs. There were several places to chose from but she wasn’t in any mood to go bargain hunting. The first motel they came to was big and clean and she turned into the parking lot. It was full of cars and she hoped it wasn’t full. Shouldn’t be, she thought. Not this time of the week.

Even if she wasn’t exhausted it’s doubtful she would have noticed the lights of the police cruiser following a hundred yards back.

In addition to the large number of cars there were a couple of big yellow buses parked in the lot. BEAT IOWA banners were draped across the sides. Pasted to the inside of several windows were smaller pieces of cardboard and paper inscribed with less courteous sentiments. Jenny barely noticed the buses as she located an empty parking space and pulled in.

“Gotta have a couple hours sleep,” she declared to no one in particular. “Just a couple of hours. Okay?”

He nodded, watched as she pushed the forty-five under her seat. They exited the car together, he following close on her heels as she headed for the main building. On the walkway they passed a couple of very large young men wearing red lettermen’s sweaters. They were blasting out the Nebraska fight song enthusiastically and off key.

The starman was pleased. “More singing.”

“Sort of,” she admitted.

Their passage didn’t escape notice. One of the football players turned and yelled at them. “Yeah, Cornhuskers!”

“Yeah, Cornhuskers!” the starman responded, always willing to please.

The second lineman raised a hand, palm facing outward, and declaimed with mock solemnity, “Pass, friend.”

Jenny pushed open a glass door. “I think the office must be through here, if that sign outside was right.”

“What is Cornhusker?” her companion inquired curiously. “Has it to do with food?”

“Depends on what side of the field you’re on,” she replied obliquely.

“What side of field food grows on?”

“Never mind. It’s getting more complicated than it needs to be and I’m too tired for word games right now.” She sighed. “Let’s just find the front desk, okay?”

Unsatisfied but compliant, he nodded. “Okay, Jennyhayden.”

Keeping well away from the green Mustang, the police cruiser crawled into the parking lot. Dusseau kept his eyes on the target vehicle as he addressed the radio mike.

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