It was cold, and the raindrops felt like fine needles on her bare arms. She shivered, thinking it would have been nice if Thorn could have warned her about the climate on this world. Still, she supposed he’d had more important things on his mind.
The spaceport itself was a mess. One-half of the complex seemed to have slid down a hillside and was now closed off by bands of glowing green tape. Everywhere she looked she saw crowds of annoyed tourists, some human, some Eridani, and even several hooded and cloaked Zhore, most of them standing in queues and looking as if they wanted to be anywhere but here.
Great vacation spot, Thorn, she thought, but decided it was better to save her arguments until they were somewhere private.
They had no trouble getting a mech-operated taxi. Most people seemed to be leaving Chistan Major, not arriving, and there were fleets of the compact little aircars circling the spaceport.
“The Eridani Majesty,” Thorn said to the mechanoid cabbie, and Miala raised an eyebrow.
“Sounds posh,” she commented.
He gave her a very small smile. “You’ll see.”
Up in the taxi’s driver’s compartment the mech cabbie began burbling away cheerfully. “Eridani Majesty, sure...you’re lucky, the Majesty survived the waves, high ground, you know. Just ten minutes, and they’ll be glad to see you…tourists running away like boojins off a sinking ship...who’d’ve thought a series of underwater earthquakes could have made so much trouble...”
“Earthquakes?” Thorn interrupted. Until then he’d been leaning back against the seat, lids half-closed as if to block out some of the mech’s babbling, but he sat up suddenly, black eyes narrowing.
“That’s what they’re saying,” the mech responded cheerfully. It was a model Miala didn’t recognize, a spindly little thing with four arms and a narrow, flattened head. “Whole series of them…fault line they didn’t even know was there…totally wiped out the Unis Islands. Tidal waves everywhere. Chistan Major’s still here just because it’s mostly on high ground.”
“Any aftershocks?” Thorn’s eyes were still narrowed; Miala could almost see the tension in his body.
“Oh, sure. Not that you’ll feel ’em in the Majesty, as long as the floor doesn’t collapse.” The mech’s jolly tones never altered during the relaying of this information—probably it had been programmed to be artificially cheerful at all times.
“That’s reassuring,” Miala muttered.
“Are we almost there?” Thorn grated.
Although he seemed to have relaxed slightly once he began to realize that the worst of the natural disaster was already over, it was clear he would have liked nothing better than to blow the head off the garrulous mech. Maybe Eridanis—who had colonized Callia—liked their mechs talkative, unlike the quiet, unobtrusive models Miala had seen on Iradia.
“Just ’round this corner.”
And sure enough, the mech took the bend at a speed Miala wasn’t sure was entirely safe, and the Eridani Majesty stood before them.
Up until that time, the largest structure she had ever seen was Mast’s compound. The Majesty would have dwarfed the former monastery with just one wing. It was a huge edifice of white stone—or possibly white concrete made to look like stone—that had been built on a bluff overlooking the ocean. Three domes that appeared to be made of multicolored glass topped the mammoth structure, although Miala couldn’t be certain of the materials, since the dimming light and still pouring rain made it difficult to see details clearly.
The taxi whooshed to a stop under a portico whose underside had been decorated in a complex mosaic depicting some sort of alien marine life. Apparently the Eridani Majesty eschewed mech labor, for it was a young Eridani man who opened the car door for Miala and offered her a gloved hand, helping her out onto an elaborate runner of intricately worked design.
“Welcome to the Eridani Majesty!” he announced.
“Uh…thank you,” she replied, allowing him to retrieve her battered duffel from the floor of the back seat, feeling even more acutely aware of the rumpled garments she wore and the sad state of her hair. She brushed at the wrinkles on her tunic, then added in what she hoped were space-weary traveler tones, “Such a dreadful flight! I thought we’d never get here.”
From the back seat she heard something that sounded suspiciously like a snort. The porter leaned down as if to help Thorn out of the taxi, then backed up quickly after receiving a freezing stare from the mercenary. Thorn unfolded himself from the back of the cab, still glaring at the nervous young man.
“Thanks,” Eryk Thorn said finally, and tossed a five-unit chip at the porter, who caught it and looked relieved that Thorn hadn’t thrown anything incendiary at him.
“Great people skills, Thorn,” Miala said, once they were safely out of earshot.
“That’s ‘Captain Marr,’” he replied, not bothering to look back at her. “Don’t forget it.”
Yes, sir! she thought, but remained silent as she trailed after him across the enormous marble-paved lobby of the hotel. In here the walls seemed to be made entirely of glass, encasing tanks of what she assumed were the more colorful examples of local marine life, while overhead huge glass globes cast a warm light across the enormous room.
It seemed to take forever to get to the main desk. There was a lot of real estate to cover, although the lobby was conspicuously empty, with staff obviously outnumbering guests at least three to one. Again, the clerk who waited for them was Eridani, this time a young woman probably not too many years older than Miala herself, although impossibly more elegant, with her dark purple hair in an intricate knot high on her head and a sparkling white suit that Miala knew would have been stained in about five minutes if she’d been the one wearing it.
“Reservations?” she asked.
For a second Miala wasn’t sure what Thorn was doing, exactly, and then she realized he was smiling. It was such a rare expression that she gave him a startled look. Then she realized exactly what he was up to.
“Well, I don’t exactly have any, but I was hoping you could help me out—” And he slid a credit chip across the counter.
Apparently Miala wasn’t the only one to be affected by that smile. The clerk looked at Thorn and returned the smile with one of her own. “Well, sir, we do have some rooms available—”
“Excellent.”
The clerk swiped the credit chip, and her eyes widened slightly. Then she tapped away at her keyboard. “In fact, given the present situation—that is, the Eridani Majesty values your patronage, sir. We’d like to offer you a free upgrade to one of our governor’s suites by way of thanks.”
“Well, thank you—” and here Thorn leaned in a little closer, as if to take a better look at the glowing letters on her name tag, “—Selchen. I do appreciate it.”
She blushed, her pale lavender skin turning a darker purple high on her cheekbones. “Oh, it’s no problem, sir.” Then she handed a coded security card and the credit chip back to him. “Please let us know if there’s anything we can do to make your stay here more comfortable.”
“Will do.” He pocketed the card and the chip, then gestured for Miala to follow him toward the bank of elevators that stood at the far end of the lobby.
Once they were safely inside, Miala turned to her companion. “All right, where is Eryk Thorn, and what have you done with him?”
Again that flash of teeth. “That’s ‘Captain Marr,’ Miala. And I didn’t deviate from my standard procedures—I merely analyzed the situation and then used the approach I had determined would work best.”
“Whatever you say,” she replied. Maybe that was true, but she’d gotten the feeling Thorn had positively enjoyed cranking up the old charm to get what he wanted from that clerk.
Once she saw the suite, however, she was not inclined to argue with Thorn’s methods. The main bedroom alone could have swallowed up her old house in Aldis Nova, and the bathroom was so large she wondered whether they were supposed to sleep in there as well, especially since there
was an elegant little lounging couch placed against one wall of the dressing area. Best of all, though, the suite’s far wall was made entirely of glass and overlooked the ocean, now dark as blood in the last light of the setting sun.
“All right, I forgive you,” she said finally, after returning to the sleeping area.
“For what?”
“For flirting with that clerk.” Miala took another look around the sumptuously decorated chamber, from the blue-green hangings of some foreign, shimmering fabric on the walls to the vases of flowers that stood on the bedside tables. Their blue and purple blooms gave the room a delicate, spicy scent, at once alien and enticing. “Actually, considering how nice this suite is, I forgive you for anything you might ever have done wrong.”
“That’s a lot of forgiving.”
He was most certainly correct in that, she thought, but at the moment she didn’t care. “But I really have to know,” she continued. “Where the hell are all our units?”
“Still safely in the cargo hold.”
“Excuse me?” What load of moth droppings was he trying to sell her now? “I don’t remember seeing any units—just a bunch of mining equipment.”
“Don’t forget the sand skimmer parts,” he said, setting the synth-hide bag he had brought with him on the foot of the bed.
“Whatever. So what did you do with the units?”
“I didn’t do anything with them.”
Miala gave him an unbelieving stare.
Finally, he appeared to relent and said, “I told you I’m prepared. I always carry a few cases of what looks like legitimate cargo around with me, something to match whatever fake cargo manifest I’m currently using.”
“But he picked those cases at random!” she protested.
“Did he?” Thorn returned, with a lift of the eyebrow.
“What, did you use some sort of hypnosis on him or something?”
“No. Most customs officials are lazy and invariably choose cases toward the front of the cargo hold.”
Miala took a breath. “Fine, but he also had you open up one in the very back. What about that one?”
“Finest hologram projectors money can buy.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“It’s true. Since they’re projecting a fixed image, the fidelity is very high. And they fit right under the lid of just about any crate or container you’re trying to disguise. Can’t tell it from the real thing, unless you try to stick your hand in it.”
“And what happens if someone sticks their hand in it?”
“Their hand gets shot off.”
Well, that was more like the Thorn she knew and loved. “Subtle.”
“Whatever works.”
There wasn’t much arguing with that, she knew. Frowning, she gazed up at him, at the expression of complete unconcern on his face. “You seem pretty casual about walking around where everyone can see you,” she commented.
He shrugged. “It’s hard for people to recognize you when no one knows what you look like.”
Again, she couldn’t really dispute that statement. It was true, after all. She hadn’t seen Eryk Thorn’s face until she had removed the dark wrappings he’d worn since the moment she first laid eyes on him in Mast’s compound. For all she knew, he’d spent his entire adult life hidden that way. If that were the case, then who would know what he looked like once he set the disguise aside? Besides, she was fairly certain that the well-starched staff of the Eridani Majesty would have been less than thrilled if one of the galaxy’s most notorious mercenaries suddenly appeared in the lobby and demanded a room. Odd that in this case Thorn’s true face was his best disguise.
“So what about the earthquakes?” she inquired, sitting down on the foot of the bed and pulling off her sandals. The carpet felt indescribably soft under her feet.
“I haven’t felt any aftershocks since we got here. Have you?”
“That’s not very reassuring, Thorn,” she said, her tone a gentle rebuke.
“Just making a comment.” Even as he replied, he stepped toward the enormous suite-spanning windows and touched a small control pad in the wall. The glass gradually darkened to black, blotting out the dim view of the night-shrouded harbor beyond. “Better,” he said.
“I liked the view,” she protested.
“You can’t see anything at night anyway. It was too exposed for my taste.”
Miala wondered whether she would ever win an argument with Thorn and decided probably not. Still, she was determined to enjoy herself. She was off Iradia, after all, and right now she was living in luxury she had never imagined, let alone seen with her own eyes. “So what now?” she asked.
Was that a swift glance he gave toward her, toward the bed? Miala couldn’t be sure, and in any case he actually moved away from her, toward the communications console embedded in the elegant little carved table across the room. “I thought I’d introduce you to an interesting off-world custom. It’s called room service.”
Later—much later, actually, after a divine meal of which Miala recognized nothing but enjoyed everything, too many glasses of some glorious fizzing wine Thorn said was imported all the way from Gaia itself, a leisurely soak in the bathtub (which did fit two very comfortably, as Eryk Thorn had pointed out), followed by a prolonged session in a bed that was even more comfortable than the one in Mast’s compound, Miala lay back against the pillows, certain that she had never felt so contented in her life. She tried to think if there was anything that could have made the evening better and decided that was impossible.
Thorn lay in bed next to her, idly playing with a strand of her unbound hair. His expression was almost sleepy, but she knew better. If any threat had presented itself, he would gave been on the alert faster than she could blink.
“Thank you,” she said at last.
He paused, one coil of shining copper hair still wrapped around his forefinger. “For what?”
“For getting me away from Iradia. For bringing me here. For everything.” She wanted to say, For letting me love you, but she knew that would be going too far. Even though they had shared all the intimacies a man and woman could share, she knew as well that was the one boundary she dared not cross. Oh, he had caressed her, held her, brought her to the heights of pleasure as she dug her fingers into his barely healed back and cried out his name over and over again—but even as she had fallen back against the pillows, sated by pleasure, she had known that she could say nothing more, could only whisper his name one last time as she collapsed from the aftermath of the waves of pleasure he had wrung her body. “Thorn...”
The dark eyes watching her in the muted glow of the overhead lamps seemed amused. “I told you I owed you one.”
“Then you repay your debts very well.” And she leaned over and kissed him on the corner of his mouth, in that one spot where he usually betrayed his amusement with her.
“In this case, that’s easy enough,” he murmured, and shifted slightly, allowing her to pull close to him once again. His free arm dropped around her, and then his eyes closed, his body relaxing against hers.
Did I wear you out, old man? she wondered with some amusement. Miala wasn’t exactly sure how old he really was, but she knew he had to be at least fifteen years or so her senior. Not that it really mattered, she supposed, and she was weary as well, her body finally succumbing to the night’s over-indulgences. Her eyes closed slowly, and she relaxed, feeling the warmth of his body and the rise and fall of his chest against her back. Every day is a victory, she thought, in those last few seconds before sleep claimed her. Every night a reprieve. Every moment longer he stays with me, I’ve won that much more.
Even then she knew better than to ask herself how long it might last.
XII
The days slipped by. Although Thorn disappeared from time to time on business he would not discuss with Miala, she still had plenty to keep herself occupied during the hours she was left alone. Her second day on Callia she purchased a computer and set about moving a good po
rtion of Mast’s off-world funds into several accounts she set up for herself. For some reason Eryk Thorn would not allow her to establish an account for him, and neither would he give her any information on where to send his share of the fortune.
“Keep it safe for me,” he said, in answer to her slightly irritated queries. “I can get it from you when I need it.”
“You’re joking,” she replied.
“I don’t joke about money,” he said. Then he got that sardonic glint in his eye and added, “I trust you.”
Miala wasn’t sure whether to be offended or amused…was he mocking her? In the end she had only shaken her head and continued with her work. It wouldn’t have been wise to drain the former crime lord’s accounts completely, anyway. Instead, she siphoned off amounts of money that seemed somewhat obscene to her but, if noticed as missing, might only lead one to conjecture that perhaps Mast hadn’t been doing quite as well as he had wanted everyone to believe.
At the same time she hacked into the admissions system at the University of New Caledonia and retrieved the transcripts she had sent there a little over a year ago. She had been accepted, but the tuition proved out of reach, and nothing had come of it. Extracting her transcripts from their system was the easiest way she could think of to apply to the other universities on her list. First among them was the university on Nova Angeles—previously Miala had thought she would never be able to afford the tuition, but of course that wasn’t a concern any longer. Epsilon Eridani was another option, and she submitted an application there and to a few other places as well.
As she waited for word, she amused herself by exploring Chistan Major and its environs. On a few occasions Thorn accompanied her, usually when the outing involved something physical in nature—climbing the low ridges that encircled the city to the north and east, riding a glass-bottomed hoverboat out into the shallow green waters beyond Chistan Bay, or even attending the local version of horse-racing, although here on Callia the “horses” were nimble six-legged beasts that Thorn told her had originally been bred on Eridani. But during all of these diversions she noticed a restlessness in him, saw the way his gaze would sometimes turn westward to where the spaceport was located, and it troubled her.
Blood Will Tell Page 12
