The Hidden World

by Melinda Snodgrass

  “You’re very guarded. You start to tell me about an experience and then you slide away to another anecdote.”

  He regarded her for a long moment. “I love you, Mercedes, but you are the living embodiment of the League. There are some things I can’t and won’t tell you.”

  “Which makes you a little disloyal.”

  “And this is a surprise to you why?”

  “Good point,” she said and spread a bit more of the eggplant appetizer on her bread.

  “I note you’re also being very careful not to talk about yourself,” Tracy said.

  “And what would I discuss? My husband? The fact my father is failing mentally? The attacks on me by the del Campos? My most recent mission? That went so well.” The haunted look was back.

  Tracy gripped her shoulders. “Mer, you’re going to need to talk to somebody. You know that, don’t you?”

  “I will. Maybe this policy toward the Hidden Worlds should be reviewed and—”

  “That’s not what I mean and you know it. Thousands of people are dead. On both sides. I’ve held you as the nightmares hit.” He slid his hands down her arms and held her hands. “This interlude, as wonderful as it is, will not deal with your ghosts and regrets. Please promise me you’ll get counseling when you…” It hurt to say it. “Go back.”

  She ran a hand down his cheek. “All right. I promise. But, right now, let me be here. With you.”

  “Okay.”

  “Buy me an ice cream cone,” she said.

  “With pleasure.” He signaled the waiter, paid the bill and they went down to the river walk where there was a vendor selling Persian ice cream from his cart.

  Tracy went with white rose and orange blossom. Mercedes picked pistachio and mocha. She eyed their selections. “I feel like these should have been reversed. You’re an odd fellow, Thracius Ransom Belmanor. I never have figured you out.”

  “Well, welcome to the club. I haven’t figured me out either.” Tracy studied her. The sparkle in her eyes was diminished and her head drooped. “How about we go back to the hotel and rest for a bit. We’ll come back into the city for dinner.”

  She took his arm and snuggled against him. “Sounds good. And maybe do a bit more than rest?”

  “I think I can rise to the occasion.”

  “Ugh, you are impossible, and not very funny… but I love you anyway.”

  * * *

  They didn’t make it back into town that evening. Mercedes fell asleep, and slept until nearly eight. Worried, Tracy checked with Dalea, who told him to let her be, and allow her body and mind to heal. He sat in a wicker chair on the balcony where he could watch the large slow-moving Teco lizards amble down the porphyry walkways far below. A cooling breeze dried the sweat on his forehead. He read a new spy novel on his ring, and occasionally checked on Mercedes. He loved the way she curled on her side, one hand tucked under the pillow, the other under her chin. During their nights together, he had learned that she moved her foot to make the bed rock a bit before she fell asleep. She also talked in her sleep, though he couldn’t be sure if that was because of the trauma of Kusatsu-Shirane or was something she had always done. It saddened him to know he would never find out. His growling stomach told him it was time to eat and he ordered a dinner for them. Mercedes woke when room service delivered their meal. Jahan had been right, the food was very good. There was an appetizer of thinly sliced cured meat wrapped around a local fruit that was pale pink and very sweet. Their main was meat from a Cuandru ruminant that was similar to pork. The medallions were glazed in a bourbon sauce with a side of vegetables, and there were slices of cheesecake to finish.

  Afterward they took a cautious walk along the swaying sky bridges.

  “It’s like fairyland,” Mercedes said as they stood holding the elaborately carved railing and looking at the lights twinkling in the branches of the trees. Tracy looked up wondering if the stars would mirror the lights, but the forest canopy blocked most of the sky. Mercedes sighed. “I think I could live here quite happily. You?”

  He realized that after so many years in space he had to have the stars, and he shook his head. “No, if I did ever settle down the well, it would have to be a planet without too much light pollution and a good view of the sky. I need the stars.” He thought about Freehold, lost in the darkness of interstellar dust, and started to blurt, “I could never live on—” He broke off.

  “Another secret,” Mercedes said softly.

  “One that’s not mine to share. I’m sorry.”

  “No, I understand.” She stood in silence for a moment.

  “Take me to bed, Tracy. Time is rushing past us. I wish…

  Don’t let me sleep again.” Her arms went around his waist and she rested her head on his chest.

  “Your wish is my command. Particularly the first one.”

  * * *

  She woke him in the morning by gently kissing his eyelids and then his lips. He stretched and felt his spine pop. “Umm, what time is it?”

  “Early. I’ve been looking through the guest packet. There’s an interesting hike we can take.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’ve ordered a picnic basket. We can pick it up when we have breakfast.”

  Tracy wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her down on top of him. “I love how you are so efficient.”

  “Come on, lazy. Let’s go.” She bounced off the bed and threw his slacks at him.

  Fortified with a good breakfast, and armed with water and the lunch basket, they hired a flitter to take them to the trail head that led to the Seven Sisters Waterfalls. It was a little over five kilometers one way and the trail was fairly steep as they climbed out of the dense forest and into the cliffs and boulders at the foot of the mountain. There were other hikers on the trail. A mix of Isanjo, Hajin, and human. People had brought their dogs, and one couple were leading a miniature horse for their toddler to ride. The child, chubby hands twined in the horse’s mane, was giggling and shrieking with delight. The look of hungry longing on Mercedes’ face was evident.

  After an hour Tracy was puffing and feeling the pull on the back of his thighs and in his calves. Mercedes gave him a light punch in the gut. “Getting soft there, Captain.”

  “Too much time aboard ship and I’m bad about using the exercise equipment.” He flipped open the water bottle and took a long drink.

  “I’ll tell Luis to start kicking your ass,” Mercedes said. “It’s clear he’s working out.”

  “He’s young and always on the strut. I, however, am old and past my prime.”

  “You realize you just insulted me too,” Mercedes teased.

  Tracy took her in his arms. “Never. And by the way, you are perfect and beautiful.”

  Her lashes lowered and she looked away embarrassed. “Come on. We still have a way to go.”

  The trail wound higher and higher. It seemed the mountain was growling as the sound of falling water became more audible. The narrow canyon where they were walking debouched into a wide clearing. Springy grass ran down to the pebbles that edged a lake into which seven waterfalls fell with a constant roar. Tall standing stones that clearly weren’t natural formed a half-circle echoing the curve of the lake. The spume was like white lace against the gray of the rocks. On the tops of the cliffs young Isanjo and a few brave human teens peered over the edges. Mist from the falling water dampened Tracy’s face.

  Out of range of the spray visitors had spread blankets and were setting out lunches. Mercedes led them to one particularly tall and narrow stone. Its sides had been incised with elaborate abstract designs. Places on the stone had been rubbed smooth with the touch of thousands of hands. Tracy found himself tracing the lines of the figures, fascinated by the intricacy and the beauty. Mercedes was busily pulling food out of the basket.

  “What is this place?” he asked her.

  “Apparently a temple of sorts back when the Isanjo were pagans.”

  “Well, it was worth the hike.” He bent and kissed her. �
��Thank you for arranging this.”

  She handed him a bottle of sparkling white wine. “Open, please.”

  Tracy lightly bounced the bottle on his palm. “Do you remember when we—”

  “Had a picnic on the Apex cosmódromo?” she finished. “Yes.”

  “I bought us a bottle of wine just like this.”

  “And we had a fight.” Mercedes smiled up at him.

  “Seems to be a habit with us.”

  She clutched his hand. “Not anymore. Never again.”

  Because once this idyll is over I’ll never see you again. He didn’t say it though. It would have darkened the day.

  23

  IT COULDN’T LAST

  They returned to the hotel and indulged in a long soak in the wooden tub. Mercedes filled it with bath oil. The evergreen scent in the oil blended wonderfully with the cedar wood. Tracy scrubbed her back. The feel of hot water squeezed across her shoulders was both wonderfully relaxing and arousing. She reciprocated and he groaned a bit as she massaged his neck. He turned to face her and she felt his erection pressing urgently against her thighs and belly. He was seated on the narrow shelf that ran along the side of the tub. Mercedes climbed onto his lap and taking his cock in her hand she gently guided him inside. His eyes half closed, the long lashes brushing his high cheekbones. She began to ride him, slowly rising and falling as she brought him to climax. His head fell back and she could see he was falling into a doze. She tugged his hair gently.

  “Wake up. Let’s go find dinner.”

  They scrubbed up and dried each other. While Tracy dressed she studied the skirt and blouses she had purchased and decided she wanted something prettier. Wrapped in the large towel she used the terminal in the room to call up a printable dress shop. She picked a low-cut ankle-length wraparound dress in white that would flare to expose her legs. She added a pair of high-heeled sandals, lace panties and matching bra. She used Tracy’s credit spike to pay. The store promised delivery in forty minutes and true to their word a drone arrived, hovered over the balcony, and delivered her package.

  She dressed and Tracy’s reaction was all she could have hoped for. His eyes widened and his breath caught. She handed him the string of beads he had bought for her. “Please?” she said. His fingers were trembling against the nape of her neck as he hooked the clasp.

  “Madam.” He offered his arm.

  “Sir.” She took it and they stepped out of the room and onto the swaying bridge. “Okay, discretion being the better part of valor,” she said and pulled off the sandals. They made their way to the ladder and were soon on their way to the tram stop.

  They picked another restaurant on the river walk and Tracy used the fact he actually spoke some Isanjo to delight the maître d’ so they were given an exceptional table with a view of the river and park beyond. Small lantern boats floated past filled with young lovers. The Isanjo were almost complete carnivores so their steaks arrived cooked to perfection. Tracy’s ran with blood. Mercedes cut into hers and discovered it had been stuffed with blue cheese. It was a fantastic addition. Roasted root vegetables and polenta were the sides, and they washed it all down with a rich crimson wine. Tiramisu and coffee were the perfect ending notes. Mercedes leaned back in her chair, twirled the stem of the wine glass between her fingers, and studied Tracy. He was gazing off across the water so she could study his profile without him noticing. She liked his straight, narrow nose. The way his sideburns seemed to draw attention to the high, etched cheekbones. She even liked the way the dueling scar pulled up his eyebrow into a sardonic arch.

  Music began wafting across the water. Guitars and keyboard, a piano and a trumpet. It was dance music, and the syncopated beat cried out to her to move. Mercedes leaned across the table and grabbed Tracy’s arm. “Take me dancing.”

  “You will be pleased to know that as aide-de-camp to the XO aboard the Triunfo I was expected to be a gentleman so I learned to fence and whenever I took shore leave I also took a few dance classes, so I won’t embarrass you,” he said.

  “And we won’t be interrupted this time,” Mercedes added. His fingers went to the scar at his left temple and he rubbed at the darkened ridge.

  Tracy signaled the waiter and offered his credit spike. They followed the music until they came to a pier lit with multicolored lanterns. A makeshift bar was on one side, the band at the end with only water behind them. Ropes formed a spiderweb overhead and Isanjo danced on the ropes, silhouettes against the moon. Below, earthbound creatures—Hajin and human—danced on the rough wood planking. Mercedes dragged Tracy down the steps and out onto the pier. It swayed lightly underfoot as if the river and the wood wanted to dance too.

  She spun into his arms and then realized she was the neophyte here. Her training had been for FFH balls. He had learned from ordinary people who didn’t tend to dance quadrilles. The band was blending Isanjo music and the Latin rhythms that permeated the League. The pulsing rhythm beat in her blood and she found herself losing her stiffness. He pulled her closer, their hips touching, breaths mingling. The music shifted into salsa, and he attacked it with the same fiery intensity that had been the hallmark of his life. When the music smashed to an end his face glistened with sweat and his shirt clung to his chest. An aching pressure closed on her heart. She wanted to cry and couldn’t say why. He pulled her in close, her head on his shoulder, hand cupping the back of his neck.

  “I love you,” he whispered.

  The band was stretching, taking a break. Couples were drifting to the bar. The band had placed a credit reader at the front of the bandstand, and Tracy inserted his credit spike to give them a tip. They then stood in line at the bar until they could order. The glass was cold in her hand as Mercedes sipped her margarita. Tracy kissed her and she tasted rum and mint and him. The music started again, a slow tango. She led him back onto the dance floor. Each touch of his hand on her back, her hip as he spun her away, the press of their thighs against each other, was musical foreplay. Her breath grew short and fire had replaced the blood in her veins. She was lost in the moment, but then became aware of the dancers around them stumbling to a stop. The music faltered and ended. People began to murmur. They were all looking up. There were flares of light among the stars. Ships’ engines firing as they fell into orbit.

  Tracy’s ScoopRing pinged. It was Jax.

  “Been monitoring orbital control. It’s the consort and he’s got a flotilla with him,” the alien said. He broke the connection.

  “Could he know?” Mercedes asked. “Did someone talk?”

  “Nobody in the crew would betray you. And Cuandru is the logical jump-off point for any search,” Tracy said. “I’d probably do the same.”

  Mercedes clutched at Tracy’s shoulders. “Take me home.” She had to force the words past lips gone stiff as she struggled not to cry.

  * * *

  Their lovemaking had a desperate quality. Mercedes kissed him hard enough to bruise, and her nails dug at his back and shoulders. It was as if she wanted to climb inside his skin. Finally, he had nothing left to give and he fell back gasping for air, his body sweat-drenched and limp. He looked over. Mercedes had curled herself into a tight ball. He rolled over and spooned her, trying to offer comfort. His arm seemed very white against her rich dark skin.

  “Tracy.”

  “Yes, my love.”

  “Let me stay. Be a member of your crew.” She rolled over. Their faces were only inches apart. He could see the unshed tears glittering in her eyes. “Eventually they’ll decide I’m dead and stop looking.”

  “No. They won’t. They know your capsule was found. They’ll keep searching for you and eventually they’ll find us, and they could never admit that you joined us voluntarily so—”

  “They would kill you,” she finished dully.

  “Yes. And beyond the personal concerns, who would take the throne if you were gone? And would you be comfortable with that person?” Her shudder gave him the answer. He kissed her hair. “We were given a gift… that co
uldn’t last.”

  “It will last! At least until the morning.”

  They talked for hours and their final coupling was slow and gentle and sad. The sun was barely up when they left the bed, bathed, and dressed in silence. She left all the clothes she had purchased. When she slid the wedding set back onto her ring finger a knife seemed to enter his gut. The only comfort was that she didn’t leave the beads he’d bought for her.

  “Give me your bank account number.”

  “You don’t have—”

  “Of course I do. Don’t be a noble idiot.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I need to get my hair restored and I’d like to see the rest of the crew and say farewell.”

  “I’ll call them.”

  They returned to the salon where Tracy had gotten his hair cut. Mercedes explained what she needed. The Hajin took her to a basin and washed her hair with a pale blue liquid that leached the red away. It was like blood swirling away down the drain. Tracy felt like all happiness and any hope of ever being happy again was also flowing away. The Hajin dried and styled the bobbed hair, spun the chair so Mercedes could look in the mirror. The alien’s eyes widened.

  “All you’ve seen is a remarkable resemblance,” Tracy growled.

  The Hajin backed away, extended a leg, and gave a low bow. “Quite so.”

  Mercedes extended her hand to the alien. “Thank you for taking such good care of me, citizen. I appreciate it.” The barber’s expression was one of stunned adoration, and Tracy was again struck by Mercedes’ skill in dealing with people. He wished he could develop it.

  They met the crew at a cheap diner in a very native part of the city. Jax linked in so he was a shimmering hologram in the center of the table. Tracy studied the menu, checked in with his stomach, which had become a small tight ball. There was no way he was going to keep down food so he ordered the huevos rancheros. He could stir the ingredients together and no one would notice he wasn’t eating. He listened to the artless chatter from Luis, Jax, Graarack, Jahan, and Dalea and wanted to scream at them. How could they laugh when his life was ending? He picked up his coffee mug and stared down into the dark depths. Of course, his life had ended before and somehow he’d kept on living. He told himself not to be so dramatic. They stretched the brunch to an hour and a half, but then Mercedes stood.