freakish she appeared, Lanoree
knew that she could not underestimate Kara for one moment.
Handing the drink to Lanoree, Kara held on for just a moment too long, staring into
the Ranger’s eyes.
“What?” Lanoree asked.
“A Je’daii, so pure,” Kara breathed. “Forgive me. It’s been years.” Those enigmatic
words hanging in the air behind her, she floated back to the table and started eating.
Lanoree took a sip to steady her nerves, looking down at her feet as she swallowed.
This large main room of the apartment was cantilevered over the top of the high tower,
and its floor was composed of a thin, incredibly clear crystal. It gave the impression
of standing on air, and at midnight the view below was staggering. Lights shifted
and moved on the ground below, passing along the network of streets and squares surrounding
the immense structure. And closer to the floor’s underside, the flashing nav beacons
of small Cloud Cruisers and other craft darted back and forth around the tower.
Lanoree glanced at Tre. He was still at the edge of the room, trying his best not
to look down. But he was also close to the door. She thought perhaps it was not only
fear that kept him there but caution, and for the first time she was grateful for
his presence.
“You’ll know why I’m here,” Lanoree said.
“I will?”
“My reasons already seem more widely known than I’d like.”
“Ah, yes. I heard about the attempt on your life.”
“Is that what it was?” Lanoree asked.
“A Noghri assassin explodes himself close to you. What else could it be?”
Unwillingness to be caught
, Lanoree thought, but she did not reply.
“Yet you have me at a disadvantage,” Kara said. “I never leave here. I exist for myself
and by myself.”
“I’m sure you have a long reach,” Lanoree said. She saw Tre breaking a smile behind
Kara, but kept her own expression neutral.
“I make provisions to know what I need to know,” Kara said. She laughed softly. “I’m
very, very rich. My businesses run themselves, but I still feed off information. It’s
my obsession. And the only true universal currency.”
“Stargazers,” Lanoree said. She watched for any reaction, but other than a slight
pause before replying, Kara gave nothing away.
“I know of them. Little to do with me.”
“You fund them.”
“I donate. They’re a charitable cause.”
“A sect of madmen,” Tre said.
“Only to those who don’t understand.”
“You’d seek to leave the system?” Lanoree asked.
“You wouldn’t?”
“No.” Lanoree shook her head, confused. A strange question. “This is home.”
Kara stared at her, and for an instant Lanoree felt something strange, as if an outside
consciousness were scratching at the wall of her mind. Then the feeling was gone.
But she tried to grab hold of it, analyze. It was like nothing she had ever felt before.
“Have you ever been to Furies Gate?”
“No,” Lanoree said.
“I have,” Kara said. “Many years ago, before I became like this, I was quite a traveler.
It’s a minimum of three hundred days to reach that small planet, and not many make
the journey. There’s really no reason to go there. But I felt … the need. The urge
to push my boundaries. I’ve always felt that way, and I’ve done so physically as well
as mentally. Even my appearance is a product of that urge. I spent twenty days there,
at Fury Station, and most of the time I simply … looked. Out, into the Deep Core.
Out, beyond anything anyone in the Tythan system knows. I wanted to see the glimmer
of a Sleeper ship returning, one of those craft sent out over the millennia to return
to the wider galaxy. I wanted to travel onward myself but knew that death would likely
be the result. But even since turning my back on Fury Station and returning here,
I have continued to look outward.”
“Gazing at the stars,” Lanoree said, and she remembered so much about her
knew that she could not underestimate Kara for one moment.
Handing the drink to Lanoree, Kara held on for just a moment too long, staring into
the Ranger’s eyes.
“What?” Lanoree asked.
“A Je’daii, so pure,” Kara breathed. “Forgive me. It’s been years.” Those enigmatic
words hanging in the air behind her, she floated back to the table and started eating.
Lanoree took a sip to steady her nerves, looking down at her feet as she swallowed.
This large main room of the apartment was cantilevered over the top of the high tower,
and its floor was composed of a thin, incredibly clear crystal. It gave the impression
of standing on air, and at midnight the view below was staggering. Lights shifted
and moved on the ground below, passing along the network of streets and squares surrounding
the immense structure. And closer to the floor’s underside, the flashing nav beacons
of small Cloud Cruisers and other craft darted back and forth around the tower.
Lanoree glanced at Tre. He was still at the edge of the room, trying his best not
to look down. But he was also close to the door. She thought perhaps it was not only
fear that kept him there but caution, and for the first time she was grateful for
his presence.
“You’ll know why I’m here,” Lanoree said.
“I will?”
“My reasons already seem more widely known than I’d like.”
“Ah, yes. I heard about the attempt on your life.”
“Is that what it was?” Lanoree asked.
“A Noghri assassin explodes himself close to you. What else could it be?”
Unwillingness to be caught
, Lanoree thought, but she did not reply.
“Yet you have me at a disadvantage,” Kara said. “I never leave here. I exist for myself
and by myself.”
“I’m sure you have a long reach,” Lanoree said. She saw Tre breaking a smile behind
Kara, but kept her own expression neutral.
“I make provisions to know what I need to know,” Kara said. She laughed softly. “I’m
very, very rich. My businesses run themselves, but I still feed off information. It’s
my obsession. And the only true universal currency.”
“Stargazers,” Lanoree said. She watched for any reaction, but other than a slight
pause before replying, Kara gave nothing away.
“I know of them. Little to do with me.”
“You fund them.”
“I donate. They’re a charitable cause.”
“A sect of madmen,” Tre said.
“Only to those who don’t understand.”
“You’d seek to leave the system?” Lanoree asked.
“You wouldn’t?”
“No.” Lanoree shook her head, confused. A strange question. “This is home.”
Kara stared at her, and for an instant Lanoree felt something strange, as if an outside
consciousness were scratching at the wall of her mind. Then the feeling was gone.
But she tried to grab hold of it, analyze. It was like nothing she had ever felt before.
“Have you ever been to Furies Gate?”
“No,” Lanoree said.
“I have,” Kara said. “Many years ago, before I became like this, I was quite a traveler.
It’s a minimum of three hundred days to reach that small planet, and not many make
the journey. There’s really no reason to go there. But I felt … the need. The urge
to push my boundaries. I’ve always felt that way, and I’ve done so physically as well
as mentally. Even my appearance is a product of that urge. I spent twenty days there,
at Fury Station, and most of the time I simply … looked. Out, into the Deep Core.
Out, beyond anything anyone in the Tythan system knows. I wanted to see the glimmer
of a Sleeper ship returning, one of those craft sent out over the millennia to return
to the wider galaxy. I wanted to travel onward myself but knew that death would likely
be the result. But even since turning my back on Fury Station and returning here,
I have continued to look outward.”
“Gazing at the stars,” Lanoree said, and she remembered so much about her
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