Salvaged Destiny

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Salvaged Destiny Page 7

by Lynn Rae


  “Oh.” He thought for a moment. “Why not?”

  “I’m tired and we have to be up early tomorrow.”

  “Right.” Lazlo sighed a bit. At least she didn’t seem all that interested in meeting up with Wood. Then again she didn’t seem all that interested in spending any more time with him. But that was understandable. She’d been with him all day and would be again tomorrow. And this was just a quick dinner. He shouldn’t expect her to want to follow him home. Not that he wanted her to follow him home or touch his hand or laugh at his jokes. If he ever made any.

  He was hopeless at this.

  *

  They reached the quick counter and had to wait for a while for two seats to open up. The cook also acted as server and she was a blur of motion—knife flashing, wok sizzling, plates flying. Del grew hungrier and hungrier as she watched, smelling the spices and the nutty scent of hot sesame oil. Del laughed when Lazlo clutched at his stomach in faux pain because she felt like doing the same. Two women left their seats and she and Lazlo quickly claimed them and sat down.

  “Order everything. I’m going to expense this meal.”

  Del nodded, not really believing him but enjoying his good humor. After careful and polite negotiation with each other, they ordered four dishes—vegetable lo mein, bitter melon, curry eggs and sticky noodles. Del watched Lazlo as he collected napkins and chopsticks for them. She was coming to appreciate what a good man he was—open, courteous, kind. But he seemed to be alone here on Sayre, never mentioning a wife, partner or girlfriend. But maybe he liked men? She took another look at him and he caught her at it.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. I was just wondering—” Del shut her mouth, not willing to go any further with that thought.

  “Wondering what?”

  “Ah, just what your gender preference was.” Del said it in a rush while looking at the cook chopping up bitter melon on the board in front of them. She’d never been good at lying or small talk or flirting, so she decided that she would just ask and not have to stammer out some sort of awkward excuse.

  Lazlo just kept looking at her until she decided to stop staring at the vegetables and look at him. Hoping that she wasn’t blushing, she finally held his gaze. He had nice eyes—rich brown, intelligent and twinkling with good humor.

  “Hetero. And I’m not involved with anyone.” He stopped watching her to thank the cook as she passed over their vegetables and then he busied himself serving her some and then for himself. “I guess we should have gone over that before we went out.”

  “Well it’s not an actual date, so personal information wasn’t actually necessary.”

  “I don’t mind.” He took a bite of melon and nodded, grinning at the cook who smiled back and began to dish up some noodles for someone farther down the counter. “What about you?”

  “What about me what?” He raised his eyebrows and she realized what he meant. “Oh I’m hetero, but it’s been so long that I can’t be sure anymore.” She clamped her hand over her mouth, mortified at what she’d just said. Lazlo began to laugh, big barking laughs of sheer amusement, and she knew that she was blushing then, face hot, stomach fluttering. The cook glanced over at them and looked as if she was trying to determine if they were really happy with the food or just unstable.

  “Now I’m terribly embarrassed,” Del muttered and ducked her head over the sliced and stir-fried melon. Lazlo tried to stop laughing but he failed, managing to slow to hitching chuckles eventually. “I don’t think it has ever been so long for me that I would be confused on that point,” he managed to say before becoming amused again. He grinned and Del gave him an irritated look. Luckily, the cook handed over a bowl of scrambled and fragrant curry eggs, so he could concentrate on dividing that between them and let her relax a little.

  “Of course it hasn’t. You’re, you’re…” And then she trailed off again, looking mortified.

  “I’m what?” Lazlo prompted her, wondering what new hilarity was going to emerge from her. This Del Browen was full of surprises and he wanted to hear more. When she’d been out on the plateau she was different—confident, relaxed but businesslike. She’d strode around the Outlands with perfect ease, every rock formation and sand pile exactly where she’d left it.

  Now she was trying to be a conversationalist and having some difficulty. It was no wonder the thought of dining at the Mendel Club had filled her with dread.

  “I’m not saying another word about it. I’ve made enough idiotic comments for now.” She sniffed and ate some egg. “I know that I’m not the most socially graceful person out there, but the last few minutes have been a new low for me.”

  “It’s probably me,” Lazlo offered, trying to make her feel better. “People just talk to me. It makes my job easier.”

  “I bet it does. All the criminals just confess everything. They probably show up at the station looking for you.” She ate another bite of egg. “This is really good. Thanks for suggesting it.”

  “You’re welcome. Now aren’t you having a nice time with me?”

  She swallowed hard and looked at him with exasperation. It seemed to be her default expression. “Yes, but that’s not the point.”

  “Was there a point in there somewhere?” Lazlo asked as he happily accepted a bowl of hot sticky noodles from the now intrigued and eavesdropping cook. Del shook her head and started to eat the noodles he gave her. “I didn’t think there was a point. But that’s all right with me. I don’t have to have a goal in mind to enjoy myself.”

  “That’s very relaxed of you. I suppose I’ve always assumed you law enforcement types were devoted to efficiency. And lots of rules.”

  “Yes, people assume we are judgmental and severe. That we like to arrest people and use force.”

  “And do you?” Del struggled with a sticky noodle that was living up to its name.

  “No, I don’t really like to arrest most of them. Only the really dangerous ones. I feel sorry for the rest—the addicts, the unlucky ones.”

  “Isn’t sympathy a dangerous attribute for you though? Wouldn’t that make you inclined to be too lenient?”

  “No, not really.” Lazlo settled back to express himself. “What I do and how I do it is pretty well determined by Congressional mandates and the law. Leniency is for the judicial branch, not enforcement.”

  “What about using force?” She was looking cautious now, probing a bit and probably worried about what he might say. Some people really enjoyed the idea of security being tough and vengeful and taking down the offender. People on the other side were convinced that security officers were corrupt and cruel. Lazlo hoped Del’s attitude fell in the middle of that spectrum.

  “I do it when I have to, but I don’t like it.” He paused and ate the last bite of egg, which really was good. The cook had made it so quickly it had to be simple to do. Not for the first time, he realized he needed to learn how to cook. “I prefer finesse to force anyway. It’s better for everyone involved to avoid shouting and wrist clips. And I know the rules and like most of them. I like it when people behave themselves.”

  She quirked her eyebrows and nodded slowly. “So what do you do when you aren’t doing what we are doing now?”

  He grinned at her attempt to be clandestine. “Before this assignment I was working on a special investigation. Before that I worked in patrol.” Actually, he had been supervising shifts of patrol officers and training new hires, but he didn’t want to sound as if he were boasting—and of course he couldn’t tell her about the specifics of the investigation that had just concluded. But he liked her questions, she actually seemed interested in his answers and he couldn’t help but notice she was much more relaxed when she wasn’t talking about herself.

  The counter had cleared a bit by then and the number of people walking by had dwindled as well. Evening was coming and much as he liked sitting there talking with her, they both needed to get some rest before tomorrow and what was in store for them. The cook served their lo mein and Lazlo loo
ked at it regretfully.

  “Maybe we should just get that to go,” he offered and she nodded.

  “You take it. You need it.”

  “What do you mean, I need it?” Lazlo tried to act offended. She was so serious about things. He wanted her to get ruffled again.

  “You’re a big man and you need the calories. Tomorrow is going to be tough. We’re going to be out for at least twelve hours. Pack twice as much water as you did today, because we’re going to be climbing.” The remote mask had slipped on her face again. Del was back to business. She asked the cook to box up the leftovers and when they stood, no one was waiting to take their seats. Evening quiet was filling up the port and he felt more relaxed than he had in a long time.

  “I’ll walk you home.” Lazlo wanted to escort her—it seemed like the right thing to do even if this was a non-date.

  “No need. Meet me tomorrow at the same place as this morning, but one hour earlier. We can cover some ground before full light.” Del turned to leave, then looked back at him. “Thanks for dinner. Good night.” Then she walked rapidly away, disappearing around a stone corner before he could say any more.

  Lazlo stood there for a moment with the paper box of noodles in his hands, not wanting to go home to an empty apartment and a solitary evening with only the data feed for company yet again.

  Chapter Five

  “Where were you?” Dee Dee asked as Del unlocked the door to her apartment. She lived in a converted flight control observation deck above the family compound. It was small and had lots of windows, which she liked, but the proximity to her family and resulting lack of privacy was sometimes wearing. Like now, for instance. Her sister had been waiting for her to come home and followed her up the stairs like a happy puppy eager for fun.

  “I was out.” Del gestured for her sister to enter. “Coming in?”

  Dee Dee moved through the doorway quickly, flinging herself down on the only section of old sofa not covered by shipping foam and empty boxes. Del really needed to pack up some pieces to send out tomorrow and make a few marks since she was getting the feeling she was never going to earn the reward for finding the old weapons cache.

  There wasn’t much furniture in her place, just the bare essentials for living and working. A large workbench she’d pieced together from several castoffs from the Ag Research Station dominated the small room.

  On the work surface in well-lit splendor was her prize—her slightly used quark scope spectrometer, Toots. She was slightly in love with Toots and indulged the piece of equipment with every add-on and maintenance routine she could afford. Everything else in her apartment was drab, small and salvaged from somewhere else, but Toots was her lovely helper and Del gave it an affectionate pat as she passed it on her way to take a seat on the only chair.

  “You can help me pack up specimens and take them to the dock tomorrow. I’m going to be out.”

  “Must be nice to be free to wander around wherever you like,” Dee Dee griped, but moved quickly to start wrapping and packing as Del directed. Her sister was a good sport beneath the youthful surface. Dee Dee had no interest in going out prospecting anyway—too lonely and dirty for her tastes. “Dad’s assigned me to sorting with the kids. He said we’re getting in a bunch of crates from unclaimed storage so it might be exciting. Who knows what I might find? Maybe some new clothes? Of course, if there are clothes they’re likely to be dungarees and fifteen sizes too large. What are you doing tomorrow?”

  “Going out beyond the fields,” Del answered tersely, feeling anxious that she was almost lying to her sister. She really didn’t do that well. Blast this secret work and blast that annoyingly nice Lazlo Casta. If he’d just be overbearing or unfunny or irritating, it would be so much easier to deal with him.

  “I know that, but why and where and what for?” Dee Dee interrogated as she wrapped up a gorgeous little granite with gleaming inclusions.

  “Look who is working for the newsfeed now! Why are you so curious about it?” Del shot back, not wanting to lie.

  Dee Dee stopped stuffing old paper around a nice pink metrite fragment and peered at Del. “I’m curious if that security officer Lazlo is part of it, that’s all.”

  Del closed her eyes and wished she was in a deep sleep and Dee Dee was long gone. But when she opened them again, Dee Dee was still there on her sofa, bright-eyed, cute and focused on an answer.

  “So what if he is?”

  Smiling with great satisfaction, Dee Dee nodded. “I knew it. I could tell.”

  “You could tell what?”

  “That you were interested and he must be too, otherwise you wouldn’t even be talking to him,” her sister concluded with a smug look. Spare me from my sister’s absurd matchmaking please, Del begged the universe.

  “What’s that supposed to mean, Dee Dee?” Del asked, trying to divert her a bit as she took the package and doubled-checked the shipping label’s codes against her invoice. If only she could tell her romantic sister the truth and end this topic of conversation.

  “If it were up to you, you’d just watch him and sigh and never talk to him, as usual. So since you’re actually interacting with him like a person, he must be talking to you first.”

  Del shrugged and wrapped up a case containing a nice opalescent malachite destined for a classroom on Weave. If she stayed silent long enough, Dee Dee would start on another topic. And Del certainly wasn’t interested in Lazlo Casta in that way. He was so utterly not her type—too big, too handsome, with a lovely accent that made her want to listen to every word. Lazlo was a portie obviously destined for greater things than a permanent posting on out-of-the-way Sayre. Or a meaningless encounter with someone like her.

  “So what are you doing with him tomorrow?” Dee Dee continued her questioning.

  “Going out. He wants to see some sights.”

  “Oh I bet that’s not all he wants to see. Don’t scowl at me like that, Del. He’s cute and I know you think so too. So what’s he like?” Dee Dee continued to prod, not tiring of the subject yet. Stars, she was relentless when it came to discussing relationships, either hers or anyone else’s.

  “He’s very polite.” That sounded wonderfully boring. Even though in reality Del was finding Lazlo’s courtesy to be strangely appealing.

  “I know that. I met him. Is he a good kisser?”

  “Dee Dee!” Del frowned at her. “Inappropriate question!”

  “I always tell you about who I kiss. Now it’s your turn,” Dee Dee teased with a naughty grin. “So you haven’t kissed him yet. Yet! He looks as if he’d be good at it with those nice lips of his. They look strong and soft. I think that’s what I like about men, they are strong, but they can be soft. Is there anything sexier than a man just barely touching you? Not all of them of course. Some are just mean. But that Lazlo isn’t like that. And a polite man is good—he won’t be grabby or sloppy. And he’s got a great body, you can just tell.”

  Del shook her head, trying to get that thought out of her mind. Thinking about Lazlo Casta’s body was not advisable, especially after she’d acted like such a fool at dinner. It was a business dinner to be sure but she’d still ruined it. Imagine how bad it would have been if they were on a real date with genuine attraction between them? She probably would have slipped and spilled something boiling on him, or started a fire by knocking over the chef’s propane-fired wok.

  Dee Dee giggled. “Come on, Del, I know you’ve looked. How could you not? He’s perfectly proportioned. Like some sculpture or a medical illustration.” She wrapped a seal around the last box and stacked it on a table with the others. “I’ll get them to the dock first thing, don’t worry. Back to Lazlo now.” She settled down on the sofa and stared at Del.

  “How about a drink?” Del jumped up and took two steps to her tiny kitchen, thumping around to get out two glasses and her favorite bottle of non-label whiskey.

  “Bring it all back here so we can talk,” Dee Dee ordered, unpinning her hair and getting comfortable. She really had beau
tiful hair—shining reddish-brown waves that set off her gray eyes and lovely skin.

  Yet again Del felt like the older, drabber first attempt at a woman. Her original mother had fled the planet and died soon after when Del was a baby. Her father’s wife, the mother of her half-siblings, had gotten it right with Dee Dee. And even more right with Luti, who was stunning at thirteen. By the time her younger sister reached the age of majority, she’d probably be whisked off-planet by a talent agency and they’d never see her again except in entertainments.

  “But I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Ah, so there is an ‘it’.” Her sister accepted her glass of whiskey and took a small, wincing sip. “I don’t know how you can drink this stuff. I know Cousin Pin thinks he’s some skilly distiller, but it tastes like tile cleaner to me.”

  “Stop drinking tile cleaner—it will kill you. Develop your palate. I like it.” Del took her own sip, appreciating the pungent taste and the apparent change of topic.

  “I bet Lazlo Casta likes whiskey. He should be here having some with you instead of me.”

  “He’d have to arrest me if he did—you know this stuff is illegal. I’d prefer we talk about something else now.”

  “Just listen to me a bit longer, Del.” Dee Dee grew serious. “You’re so alone all the time. I worry and I know that Ma and Pa do too. You never go out, never meet anyone. You just wander around out there in the wilderness and come back and hide up here with your rocks. You’re some sort of hermit and we don’t know why.”

  Del shrugged. It was all true. And she didn’t know why either. It had all seemed to work out that way as she’d grown to adulthood—isolated work, solitary life, her time and thoughts all to herself. A therapist would probably say it was abandonment issues but who could afford a therapist’s opinion?

  “He’s nice, you said so yourself, and he’s handsome and polite. Give it a chance. Do something fun. And no, don’t tell me to go after him myself. You always try to divert things that way.” Dee Dee sat back, presumably concluding her lecture, looking much wiser than she had a right to.

 

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