prattled
on conversationally, as though he didn’t get to talk much, but Sara barely
listened. She followed the lead of Solimar Robbins, who sat in silence and
stared out of the rain-streaked window.
Shiraz Dock’s nightscape slid by.
A fog rolling in from Carrey Bay muted the signature glow of Shiraz’s myriad
blue and green lights. The nightly water show would be in full swing by now,
but they’d not get a glimpse of the synth spiders weaving their webs of
colorful light with long mechanical arms in time to the music they generated.
As a child she had spent many evenings entranced by the floating musical
artists. Maybe she’d hear some of the spiders’ music once they made it to the
berth.
Sara shifted uncomfortably, crossing
and uncrossing her legs too many times as she willed the transport to move
faster. Solimar kept an arm curled around David’s, but the lines on her face
said he was of little comfort right now. Being taken into Embassy care had
shaken her.
Things like this don’t happen
to Socialites, she had complained tearfully to Rainer and the other
contractors upon release.
Sara thought her a tad
melodramatic, but then Solimar hadn’t spent a month under Faya’s modification
at Palomin so had no idea what true discomfort was.
“You hate space travel,
huh?” David asked.
“Excuse me?” Sara
couldn’t tell if David were being serious or trying to feel her out. His cheery
Armadan tone surprised her. She’d not met many Armadans during her childhood.
They were as foreign to her as contractors had been, probably why Chen’s
promise of rogue adventure pulled her into his criminal world.
Life with Chen seemed so long
ago, another lifetime, when Sara was still Sara, not Ambasadora Mendoza.
“I mean, there had to be
some reason you shoved those contractors down the magno, then took off
running.”
David’s implication startled
Sara, about as much as Solimar’s eager attention to hear the response. Was the
archivist recording this interaction? Sara would have to get used to having a
snoop around.
“By the way.” He cocked
his head to look down at the skirt hem covering her feet. “Did you get
your shoes back okay?”
Sara wiggled her toes in the
black pumps. “Yes. Thanks for picking them up for me.”
“No problem. I had to do
something while waiting to be detained by Embassy officials,” David said.
Solimar nudged him in the ribs
with her elbow, but kept her wide-eyed focus on Sara.
The transport stopped. Solimar
waited for David to help her out. When he turned back to do the same for Sara,
she touched his hand long enough to be polite, but pushed out of the transport
all on her own.
Before her rested the sexiest
craft she’d ever seen. The silvery ship reminded her of a woman lying on her
side, all pregnant curves, dips and mounds of opalescent metal. Purples, greens,
and blues shimmered from the hull in the berthing lights of Shiraz Dock. The
sheen of her new home certainly fit the ideal of a pleasure cruiser, even one
acting as its own kind of prison.
“Good night, David.”
Solimar leaned up to kiss his cheek and whisper, “Thanks for coddling me
today.”
“My pleasure.”
“Forgive me,
ambasadora.” She took Sara’s hands in her own. The gesture of friendship,
though expected in polite society, still softened Sara’s mood a bit. “It’s
just been…an unusual day.”
“I understand, and please
call me Sara.”
Solimar smiled, then headed for
the Bard ’s covered gangway.
“I don’t make a very good
first impression, do I?” Sara watched the archivist disappear under the
soft chartreuse light of the gangway. “Not like the Bard .”
“You were just nervous about
the flight. Who could blame you?”
Sara found a real smile creeping
onto her face for the first time since that night at Palomin when Chen had given
her the ill-fated black cuff. She wondered who was charming who. Surely David
realized something was off about her behavior, yet he didn’t push
on conversationally, as though he didn’t get to talk much, but Sara barely
listened. She followed the lead of Solimar Robbins, who sat in silence and
stared out of the rain-streaked window.
Shiraz Dock’s nightscape slid by.
A fog rolling in from Carrey Bay muted the signature glow of Shiraz’s myriad
blue and green lights. The nightly water show would be in full swing by now,
but they’d not get a glimpse of the synth spiders weaving their webs of
colorful light with long mechanical arms in time to the music they generated.
As a child she had spent many evenings entranced by the floating musical
artists. Maybe she’d hear some of the spiders’ music once they made it to the
berth.
Sara shifted uncomfortably, crossing
and uncrossing her legs too many times as she willed the transport to move
faster. Solimar kept an arm curled around David’s, but the lines on her face
said he was of little comfort right now. Being taken into Embassy care had
shaken her.
Things like this don’t happen
to Socialites, she had complained tearfully to Rainer and the other
contractors upon release.
Sara thought her a tad
melodramatic, but then Solimar hadn’t spent a month under Faya’s modification
at Palomin so had no idea what true discomfort was.
“You hate space travel,
huh?” David asked.
“Excuse me?” Sara
couldn’t tell if David were being serious or trying to feel her out. His cheery
Armadan tone surprised her. She’d not met many Armadans during her childhood.
They were as foreign to her as contractors had been, probably why Chen’s
promise of rogue adventure pulled her into his criminal world.
Life with Chen seemed so long
ago, another lifetime, when Sara was still Sara, not Ambasadora Mendoza.
“I mean, there had to be
some reason you shoved those contractors down the magno, then took off
running.”
David’s implication startled
Sara, about as much as Solimar’s eager attention to hear the response. Was the
archivist recording this interaction? Sara would have to get used to having a
snoop around.
“By the way.” He cocked
his head to look down at the skirt hem covering her feet. “Did you get
your shoes back okay?”
Sara wiggled her toes in the
black pumps. “Yes. Thanks for picking them up for me.”
“No problem. I had to do
something while waiting to be detained by Embassy officials,” David said.
Solimar nudged him in the ribs
with her elbow, but kept her wide-eyed focus on Sara.
The transport stopped. Solimar
waited for David to help her out. When he turned back to do the same for Sara,
she touched his hand long enough to be polite, but pushed out of the transport
all on her own.
Before her rested the sexiest
craft she’d ever seen. The silvery ship reminded her of a woman lying on her
side, all pregnant curves, dips and mounds of opalescent metal. Purples, greens,
and blues shimmered from the hull in the berthing lights of Shiraz Dock. The
sheen of her new home certainly fit the ideal of a pleasure cruiser, even one
acting as its own kind of prison.
“Good night, David.”
Solimar leaned up to kiss his cheek and whisper, “Thanks for coddling me
today.”
“My pleasure.”
“Forgive me,
ambasadora.” She took Sara’s hands in her own. The gesture of friendship,
though expected in polite society, still softened Sara’s mood a bit. “It’s
just been…an unusual day.”
“I understand, and please
call me Sara.”
Solimar smiled, then headed for
the Bard ’s covered gangway.
“I don’t make a very good
first impression, do I?” Sara watched the archivist disappear under the
soft chartreuse light of the gangway. “Not like the Bard .”
“You were just nervous about
the flight. Who could blame you?”
Sara found a real smile creeping
onto her face for the first time since that night at Palomin when Chen had given
her the ill-fated black cuff. She wondered who was charming who. Surely David
realized something was off about her behavior, yet he didn’t push
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