To my surprise, Dina flashes me a sheepish smile. “Yeah, Hit talked me out of that. She said she can always tell when somebody’s getting down, and you haven’t had any since we left Lachion.”
My eyebrows feel like they’re shooting off the top of my head. “She can do what now? How?”
Hit smiles. “If I told you that, I’d have to kill you.”
“Funny,” I mutter. “Like I haven’t heard that line a thousand times. It was old when your great-grandmamma was young.”
In the pilot’s case, however, it just might be true. I opt not to stick around long enough to find out. I have work to do.
* * *
CHAPTER 47
We’re on Venice Minor.
Kai and I vacationed here once, four years ago. There’s a unique brilliance in the sunshine, and the quality of the air possesses an indefinable sweetness. It actually soothes the lungs as you draw it in, soft and balmy. Back then, I laughingly called it paradise, but today it’s my prison, however prettily they package it.
And let me say, it’s a fabulous villa, all shimmering white stone designed in faux-classical style. Spacious grounds with seven open gardens and terraces invite you to take a stroll; tiered balconies overflow with miniature fruit trees. Yes, you can pluck grapes right off the vine and peaches from the bough. Sweetness drizzles from your lips down your chin.
Though Keller and his goons refuse to confirm, I know perfectly well where we are. And the first time I get access to an unsecured terminal, I’ll bounce a message so that the whole world knows, too. They’re not blaming this on me; I refuse to be held responsible for increased Morgut attacks and diplomatic failure on Ithiss-Tor.
Maybe I took my role lightly at first, but our time on Emry, and later, on Lachion, put me ass deep in human suffering. I won’t stand aside. I won’t let the Syndicate neutralize me with promises of future meetings and astonishing opulence.
Keller assigned us lavish suites that actually manage to dim the luxury we enjoyed while aboard the ship. I refuse to be distracted by promises of steam baths, pure-earth facials, and deep-tissue massages, however. I pace my gilt-and-ivory cell, feverish with the need to act.
Everything is coded. It practically requires Keller’s permission to take a bath. He plays the role of host quite convincingly. If I didn’t know better, I’d almost believe him when he says, “Mr. Jewel has been called away unexpectedly, but he wishes you all to avail yourself of his hospitality in the meantime.”
Bullshit.
I’m starting to wonder if this Mr. Jewel even exists. He might be Keller for all I know. The voice that spoke through my mother’s voice was distorted enough that I wouldn’t recognize it if I heard it without augmentation.
The first day, I amuse myself playing with the ridiculously sophisticated wardrober that came with my room. The Fashionista 4000 has patterns and styles that I’ve never seen before. By the time I’m finished, I’ve come a long way toward replenishing all the clothes I’ve seen lost or destroyed along the way.
In some of them, I might even look like an ambassador, although Dina refuses to watch me try on outfits and give me her opinion. Too bad, since she’s the only one of us with any experience in such matters. But maybe I shouldn’t have asked because she wears a queer look when she shakes her head.
“That’s all behind me,” she says quietly. “I’m a mechanic now.”
“Yeah, okay.” I turn from the mirror, clad in a filmy scarlet dress that gives me the look of a fetish vid star not afraid to show some skin. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m going to go see what Hit’s up to.” The way she leaves makes me sure I’ve struck a sore spot.
Damn, I hate when I’m an insensitive asshole. Usually I can see it coming, but this one blindsided me. Now that I’m thinking about it, I can imagine Dina sitting in her sister’s rooms, watching them try on clothes, talking about the parties they’ll attend. Maybe the coup on Tarnus took place twenty years ago, but she still wears the scars. Hers just go further than skin deep.
With a sigh, I peel off the red gown and don something more sensible: skinny white slacks, white vest, and light woven shoes. While checking to make sure I got the sizing right on the new clothes, I notice that my dark hair’s almost three centimeters long now, and it’s starting to curl. I’m finally losing the lost-refugee look.
With a shrug, I close the closet door. Most times, when I look at my reflection, I see the scars to the exclusion of all else. They remind me of the people who died for the Corp’s greed; I carry their shadows in my skin.
If I’m a walking memorial, my life has to mean something. I never used to think along those lines. Never saw patterns or purpose—I think that’s March’s influence. I force back the mood shift that threatens at the thought of him. No time for that. I’ll yearn or grieve, or whatever the right emotion is, later. For now I’ll do some poking around; see what I can find out.
Mary, I can’t believe I have to put my faith in a politician like Tarn. Now that I understand his angle—and what he’s trying to prevent—it scares the shit out of me. I hope he can come up with an explanation for where I am this time. I’m supposed to be on Ielos, inspiring the pioneers that eke out an existence on the winter world.
He must think I’m the biggest fuckup in the world. When we win free, I’m going to take this job seriously. I can do this. I can be more than Jax the jumper. I’ve already memorized half the list that Vel went over with me. Morning to night, 245 drills me mercilessly, and it’s not like I have anything else to do.
Hit would like to slaughter everyone on the estate and steal a ship. But then she tends to solve all problems with a closed fist, which explains why she and Dina get on so well. Fortunately, cooler heads have prevailed so far, and we’re doing recon, trying to find out how many men are at this place, what types of ships are docked here, and what security we can expect—Vel’s forte.