“Thanks for not treating Val like a victim,” Pico said. “The medics here mean well, but…”
Sojaire shrugged a shoulder. “I know. How is she, really?”
“Good, considering. In a way, I think she’s less traumatized than the therapist who had to hear all the details.” She tapped her temple to indicate the telepath who’d done the initial evaluation. “Val had to live through the aftermath alone last time. This time, she’ll get the help she needs immediately.”
“How soon does her family get here?”
Pico pointed left, toward the wide bank of lifts. “Her parents will be here tomorrow, late. I think others are en route.” She hoped to hell that Valenia’s bigoted, sententious great-grandmother wasn’t one of them. Pico stabbed at the wallcomp to tell the lift their destination. If that poisonous suka tried to meddle again, maybe Mairwen could be persuaded to go with Pico on a late-night visit and bring all her knives.
The lift doors opened, and she and Sojaire stepped inside. The doors closed quietly and the lift began to rise.
Sojaire was gazing at his feet. “I don’t think I ever got a chance to say it, but sorry about your mother leaving.”
“Thanks. It totally tanked.” She was glad that with him, she didn’t have to pretend that it had been anything other than awful. At least her mom had just abandoned her, instead of desperately trying to control her life by sabotaging her career. “Sorry about what your father did. Have you had to file any more injunctions since I left?”
Sojaire shook his head. “No, the weeks of top-trend bad publicity for his lies took care of that. It all but tanked his ‘gentleman jack’ image. If he wasn’t the team’s high-scoring star player, they’d have termed him. As it was, their lawyer threatened to sell his contract to a frontier league if he ever said another word about me, ever, public or private.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, then tilted his head up to look at her. “But if I hadn’t lost that internship, I wouldn’t have asked Luka for a job, and I wouldn’t be here.”
It was the “here” part that was eroding her defenses. That, and his treating her like someone he cared about. She wished she’d worn her homemade mech-suit chest plate, to protect her heart. “You still like it, then?”
He nodded. “Yeah, I do. Luka and Mairwen are great.” He smiled almost sheepishly. “Not at all what I’d expected to be doing with my medical certificate.”
“Do they know about your, uhm, gift, or do they think you’re just a medic?” His healer talent had helped save both their lives in the space camp escape. She hadn’t understood why he’d kept it hidden until her own mother had taught her what most of the galaxy thought of minders. They’d made a solemn pact after that to keep each other’s secrets.
“They know. That’s why Luka hired me. Mairwen doesn’t like medics, and won’t step foot in a medical center. She trusts me because he does.” His voice held a touch of satisfaction, or perhaps gratefulness. No surprise there. His hateful, vengeful father would have used the knowledge to get his son’s license yanked, like he’d tried to before by paying a family to claim his son’s malpractice had killed their grandmother. Sojaire was no more suited to being a professional pelotón player than she was to being a two-meter-tall, mech-suited Jumper.
She didn’t know how to handle Sojaire right then. He’d been less guarded and more open in the last hour than he’d been since, well, ever. She loved the light banter, but had always dreamed of more, and never gotten it until now. She drew a deep breath and let it out slowly, and told herself it didn’t mean anything. She distracted herself by calculating the T’Schuh anti-diagonal hypercubic progression in her head. She always knew what to expect from numbers.
The lift vibrated a little as it went from going up to going sideways. Tremplin’s main medical center was big enough to need a capsule system to get people around.
Sojaire cleared his throat. “How’s your dad coping? I don’t get to talk to him very often. I know he got promoted recently.”
Pico sighed inside. She couldn’t fault him for ignoring her this time. “Good, I think. Took him a while.” She let out an audible sigh. “I had to have the talk with him about sex.”
Sojaire quirked a smile. “You mean, that you know he’s having it?”
“No, that he’s not having it.” She smoothed the front of her apron. “He needs affection.”
“Still in love with you mother?”
“No, she killed that dead. He just thinks he tanks at relationships.” She smiled a little. “Might be hope for him yet, though, with Professor De Luna.” He’d changed his shirt three times before the fancy dinner the other night, and worn his nicest jewelry.
“She seemed nice.” He frowned. “But what does she think about, uh, secrets?”
Pico closed her eyes a moment. Did he really think she was that careless with her dad’s happiness? “She says she doesn’t care, and I believe her. She knows about dad and me, and it hasn’t changed how she treats either of us.” The lift paused, then started up again. “I asked Mairwen what older women like in a man, so I could give my dad some hints about Professor De Luna.”
Sojaire laughed. “And what did she say?”
“That she’d have to think about it.” She remembered the serious look on Mairwen’s face. “I don’t think she was putting me off. I think she’s really thinking about it.”
The lift doors opened, and they stepped out onto the rooftop airpad. Fortunately, the stacker kiosk was only a few steps away, so he couldn’t get lost finding it. She watched while he entered the code and paid the fee. The stacker slots began rotating like a giant articulated chain. Newer stackers had robot arms and adjustable slots.
A gentle breeze animated his side-parted long hair and pressed his shirt tight against his sleek chest, which had filled out with muscular definition since last she’d seen him. He was shorter than average, but the perfect height for her. She stepped backward toward the lift. She’d always felt a visceral attraction to him, like a pulsar in her throat and chest, and tonight was no different. Actually, it was worse, because he’d been so companionable. Absolute zero, hard vacuum, null chance, she told her hopeful hormones. She turned to the lift tube’s wallcomp and entered Valenia’s room coordinates. Luckily, the capsule was still there, and the lift doors opened.
“Pico, wait. Would you have dinner with me tomorrow evening?” His words were rushed.
She turned, smoothing her expression as she did so. She eyed him cautiously, but saw only sincerity on his face. It was the invitation she’d been fantasizing about for three years, where they’d acknowledge their special connection and talk about the future.
Then she remembered two nights ago, at Dominar Carlotta’s, where he’d said all of ten words to her and spent the rest of the dinner glued to his percomp. Tonight’s illegal clone version of Sojaire had made her hope, but just like in the show, the clone would get kidnapped by the evil jack crew, sold to the sex slavers on the frontier planet, rescued by the dashing pirate-clan captain who loved him, and betrayed to the secret lab researcher who wanted him back for more evil experiments. Which would leave her with the baseline Sojaire, the one who either forgot she was in the room or treated her like a child.
“Sorry, but I’ll be worthless after kid wrangling.” She smiled and shrugged, to show she didn’t care. “Another time, perhaps.” Like, say, in her next lifetime, the one where she couldn’t be hurt by him again.
He shrugged a shoulder. “Yeah, sure. Another time.” He turned away to watch the stacker deliver his small rental flitter.
She decided it was her stupid, ever-hopeful heart that made her imagine the look of loss on his face. She stepped into the lift and didn’t turn around until the capsule was past the first drop.
Since looking back hurt too much, she decided to look forward. She’d be glad to recycle her beautiful but uncomfortable Florence Nightingale costume when she went home tomorrow morning. She thought the kids would like her favorite pirate clan outfit. Luckily, sh
e had a rich roommate with a home autotailor and enough spin thread to travel to the six moons and back. Otherwise, she’d have to make them all by hand, which would seriously cut into her time for making more rockets like the one she’d be launching the day after tomorrow. Now that was going to be stellar.
Chapter 14
* Planet: Nila Marbela * GDAT 3241.148 *
“Don’t make me pull rank on you, gunnin,” Andra said, giving Jerzi a mock glare. “My invitation, my restaurant choice, my treat.”
Jerzi glared right back. “No go, Lightning. You pay yours, I’ll pay mine.” The corners of his mouth started to drift upward. “And when Mairwen gets here, we’ll tell her she’s buying because she’s late.”
Andra laughed. “You can tell her that. Me, I like breathing too much.”
Jerzi chuckled as they each used their percomps to transmit cashflow account information in the table’s terminal. “Nah, she’d just become selectively deaf.”
At two thirty in the afternoon, the quiet Blue Clouds in Sky restaurant, away from the student and tourist haunts, was almost deserted, which is why Andra had chosen it. That, and the multi-ethnic cuisine that was both good and reasonably priced. Jerzi and Mairwen deserved better than the questionable choices near the university. Students would eat anything, and tourists would pay anything.
Jerzi had recommended they order their meals, rather than wait, as there was a good chance Mairwen wouldn’t have anything except water.
“Eats like the proverbial bird, does she?” She poured them both some fruit-infused water from the iced pitcher on the table.
“Most of the time,” he agreed. “But every once in a while, I’ve seen her pack it away like a Jumper after a battle.” There was a good reason why tourist buffets in Tremplin often made visiting active-duty Jumpers, the elite shock force of the Citizen Protection Service, pay double.
As this was her only day off, she decided to treat herself to her favorite spread of appetizers, rather than a meal. She’d known them as tapas growing up, but her well-traveled family had happily pilfered from a variety of other ethnic cuisines, so Blue Clouds’ eclectic menu was comfort food. Jerzi ordered a salad with strips of pickled sweetfish and a rice-wine dressing. He said he’d had a big breakfast before his morning workout and short run. He looked relaxed in his grey cargo shorts and loose-weave red shirt.
Andra had lasted a whole day before giving in to fate regarding further entanglement with the Adams clan. She wanted the briefing from Mairwen on the security assessment, and it felt wrong excluding Jerzi. Besides, she felt bad about the awkward way they’d parted the other night. She’d been mad at all of humanity at the time, and his solicitousness had made her feel vulnerable She’d had to walk away to stop herself from asking him for comfort. It would have led to sex, probably hot sex, and then he’d leave the planet with a part of her heart.
“How is Valenia?” she asked. “For that matter, how is Pico holding up?”
“Valenia’s wounds are healed. She’ll need body shop work to remove all traces, but the cuts were more painful and bloody than anything else.” He selected a small, dark roll from the breadbasket, then dipped it in the garlic-infused olive oil. “She’s getting top-level mind therapy, because she can afford it, and because Pico made it happen. She thinks she ought to have been there to protect Val, so being her unofficial patient advocate lets her feel like she’s making up for it. She even agreed to take Val’s childcare center shift this afternoon.”
“That’s true dedication. Can’t say I’m impressed by the center’s management, though. From what Pico has said, they rely far too much on volunteer labor.”
Jerzi nodded. “She’s only taking the one afternoon shift so Val will stop worrying about the kids. After that, the center is on its own.”
They were interrupted by simultaneous pings on their percomps. The message was the same to both of them, from Mairwen, who was stuck in a traffic holding pattern because part of the Tremplin traffic system was malfunctioning. She would ping again to set up a new meeting time once she was free.
The decision to stay or leave was made moot by the arrival of their food. In between bites of pincho moruno, spicy beef on a stick, Andra decided to tell Jerzi what she’d been up to. She had no one else she’d rather talk to about her unofficial investigation into the sabotage—or not—of the Chem building’s labs.
“When I got home after we found Valenia, I was too keyed up to sleep, and something Luka said the other night at dinner about murders made to look like accidents got me curious. That man who died in the accident behind the Math building that I was ordered to keep quiet about? His family has enough historical newstrends to fill a hypercube with allegations of shady business, mostly theft crews and blackmarket cloning of licensed pharma drugs.”
She pushed a small dish of spicy sausage slices toward him. “You’ll like these. Hot as the fires of stellar creation, but good.”
He smiled and speared one with his fork. “Thought I’d have to distract you to steal one.”
“Yeah? Good luck with that.” She brandished her fork in her left hand as she popped a stuffed olive in her mouth with her right. “Anyway, I got to wondering if Optimal Polytechnic gets funding from pharmas. They do, and lots of it, but it’s all grants and gifts to the Human Medicine department. It’s the university’s second biggest department, outside of Marine Science. Human Med has an entire building of organic labs, part of the mainland campus and two islands, and a dedicated skyskimmer. We—Physical Chemistry and Materials Science—get a small, crowded floater and public transport tokens.”
“How un-inclusive of the pharmas. Is the local blackmarketer family more civic-minded?”
She shook her head. “Not that you’d notice, at least not officially.”
He put one of his sweetfish strips on one of her empty small plates. “Trade you for a sarma.” He pointed to one of the bulgur-and-walnut stuffed grape leaf rolls. She pushed the dish toward him.
She speared the sweetfish strip. “During her assessment, Mairwen asked about funding. Lavong implied that lab funding and purchasing are handled by O-Poly administration, and he has little control. That’s not what he says during staff meetings, though, so yesterday morning before class, I stopped in at some of the labs to ask the supervisors and monitors about it. They say he knows the budget exactly and makes them report expenses down to the fourth decimal.” She ate the pickled sweetfish and stabbed a marinated mushroom. “Both could be true, of course, just spins for different audiences. Romila’s good at finding out that sort of thing, because she’s a low-level finder, but I don’t want to involve her if it might get her hurt.”
He nodded. “I don’t know her at all, but I don’t think she’s very, uhm, stealthy.”
Andra laughed out loud. “Nope, not subtle at all.” She saw he’d polished off the spicy sausages while she was talking, so she started in on the cubed lamb in persimmon sauce, before he got to that, too. She’d always liked that he had an adventurous palate.
“So this morning, I read a tiny trend about this local pharma rep who died by ‘misadventure,’ whatever the hell that means, the night before the blackmarketer had his accident behind the Math building. Care to guess which pharma company’s sales have been cratering lately because of a flood of clones?”
“Two accidents?” The sarcasm in those two words could have cut a steak.
“Exactly. That’s what I hoped to talk to Mairwen about.”
He swallowed the last of his water. “Uncovering patterns like that is more in Luka’s star lane, I think.” He held up the water pitcher. She shook her head and selected another olive. They were too salty today, but still good.
She suddenly felt guilty for talking business while he was trying to enjoy a meal. “So, have you done any of the touristy things? Dive the Great Reef? See the galaxy-famous Offering of the Naked Nubile Youths to the Volcano ceremony? Overpaid for souvenirs?”
He shook his head. “No. I probably should do someth
ing normal, or my boss will tease me endlessly.” He snorted in good humor. “She says I need to live a little. Laissez les bons temps rouler.”
“‘Let the good times roll’ is a better life philosophy than most. You like working for her?”
“Best boss ever, present company excepted.”
“I wasn’t your boss, gunnin. Higher rank, yes, but never your superior.” She didn’t want him thinking of her as an officer, even though they both technically were by the time they each left the service. Their Forward Intelligence unit worked because they’d been equals, more or less, who regularly pulled off miracles for the colonel, so she’d have clout when High Command wanted her to deploy the unit for something stupid or suicidal. Mostly, it had worked like a charm, except the one devastating time it hadn’t.
He raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, you tanked as a boss.”
She smiled. “Burro.” She surveyed the remains of her food and decided it wasn’t worth taking home. She put her napkin on the table with his. “Ready?”
She was amused to see he’d been stacking the dishes and flatware to make it easier for the server to clear. “How long did you work in restaurants?”
He smiled as they stood and headed for the exit. “I started about eight or nine, as soon as I was big enough to carry plates. It’s easy to get off-the-net jobs in food service.” Central Galactic Concordance law said kids under fourteen weren’t allowed to take jobs, even if their parents signed the contract waiver, but anonymous cashflow jobs could be found almost anywhere.
Andra nodded to the manager as they left the restaurant’s lanai and turned right. The walkways were narrower in this part of town, intended for residents, rather than gaggles of tourists. She congratulated herself on wearing good walking shoes, casual shorts, and a sleeveless, side-buttoned knit top, because winter in Tremplin was still warm, and they’d had to park Jerzi’s flitter several hillocks away in a small, almost empty flitter stacker. Most of its customers were probably away during the day.
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