Ricki saw him in the window first. She was sitting in her tall chair, facing the glass wall, looking over the glistening city. And there, reflected in the glass, was an even more appealing vision: Del, walking into the room.
She turned around as the wall behind Del re-formed, leaving them alone in the Sky Room. He had looked good earlier today, but that was nothing compared to now. His tailored leather jacket was deliciously sinful, fitting his lean frame perfectly. He had left it unfastened, revealing a white shirt open at the neck just enough to show a triangle of chest hair.
Careful, Ricki thought. She never let people affect her too much, even just by noticing them. It gave them control, which meant the power to hurt her. She was a cool operator, smooth and unruffled, and she ignored the misguided poets who claimed they saw past her icy exterior to a lonely soul. She wasn't affected by the way those black leather pants clung to Del's legs. And that belt made out of starship ring fittings that rested so low on his hips, hugging his anatomy—goodness. His boots had just enough heel to shift his hips forward, accenting his sensual build. His hair, well that was just protein . . . gleaming, luxuriant protein that framed his face, his pouting mouth, and those huge eyes, as if he were some beautiful, wicked angel who could snarl like a devil.
Oh my.
"Hello," Ricki purred.
Del stalked over and slid into the other chair at the table. Tilting his head toward the window, he said, "That's quite a view." Without taking his eyes off her, he added, "Spectacular, in fact."
Ah, sweet seduction. She smiled at him. "That's why Prime-Nova keeps this suite."
A hum came from a glimmering mesh on the table, followed by the voice of the human bartender who served the penthouse. "Would your guest care for a drink, Ms. Varento?"
Ricki raised her eyebrow at Del.
"Orange juice," Del said.
Ricki laughed softly. "You may look like a lethal weapon, but I think the farm boy is still in there." She spoke into the comm. "Jack, bring him up one like you did for me, double time."
"Right away, ma'am."
"Like yours?" Looking disconcerted, Del tapped her cut-crystal glass. "That drink is blue."
"Blue as a Night Dazer, which is what it's called." It was such a dumb name, it sounded like something she would come up with. "Mostly it's Southern Comfort."
Del laughed in his rumbling voice. "Whose comfort?"
"Haven't you had whiskey before?"
His smile vanished. "Yes."
Huh. What caused that reaction? "But not lately?"
"I don't know. Maybe. I not remember."
"You'll like this one."
He didn't answer, he just looked restlessly around the room. His gaze came to rest on the spectacular view outside the tower. "Nothing is like this where I live."
"You come from a place called Lyshriol, right?" When he didn't answer, she said, "I looked it up on the mesh. I couldn't find anything about a colony with that name."
"It is small place, not much." His gaze softened as he turned to her. "I translated another song tonight."
"Oh. Good." It relieved her that he hadn't objected when they told him the songs had to be in English. A lot of her acts sang in Chinese or Spanish. If he had been doing fusion, he could have sung in any language, even one he made up. But for holo-rock, labels wanted English, mainly for historical reasons, because it had started in English-speaking countries.
Curious, she said, "What language were you singing before?" Maybe talking about his home would relax him.
He smiled slightly. "It's called Trillian. From offworld."
Huh. That sounded made-up. "I've never heard of it."
"It's an old language."
"It can't be that old," Ricki said. "The earliest offworld colony has only been around a hundred and fifty years."
Del considered her as if she were a decision he needed to ponder. Then he said, "I don't come from an Allied colony. Lyshriol was one of the lost colonies from the Ruby Empire. Your people found it about a hundred years ago."
Ricki gaped at him. "You're Skolian?"
"Earth found us. Not the Skolians." Although guarded, he wasn't avoiding her gaze. "Some resort planners from Texas started to set up hotels there, but it didn't work out. So they left."
Ricki had always had an internal detector for when people lied to her, an intuition that proved invaluable in her business. She thought Del was telling the truth. Still, it sounded weird. "So you're saying you come from an offworld settlement that's five thousand years old."
"That's right." He was watching her closely. "Does that bother you?"
"Well, no." She had no idea what to make of it. "I've never understood this business about the Skolian colonies. I don't see how they can be five thousand years old. Humans lived in caves back then."
Del shrugged. "Some race took humans from Earth and left them on another planet."
Although Ricki had heard the story, she had never believed it at a gut level. "Why would a bunch of aliens take humans from Earth thousands of years ago and strand them on some other world?"
"We don't know. They vanished."
Ricki couldn't help but laugh. "So your ancestors, a bunch of Stone Age primitives, set up an interstellar empire? Come on."
"Not right away." Del didn't seem offended by her questions. "It take a thousand years. Even then, they manage only because they have libraries." He stopped, then said, "I mean, they managed because they had libraries. The beings that kidnapped them left behind libraries that describe the science. Described, I mean."
It amazed her how fast he was learning English. And what a deliciously odd development in her new act. "So this interstellar empire they set up thousands of years ago—that's what Skolians call the Ruby Empire?"
"That's right." He tapped his fingers on the table. "The Empire didn't last long. Its people knew too little about the science they were using. Its collapse left its colonies stranded."
Ricki rested her elbow on the table and her chin on her hand, fascinated. This could make some dynamite promotional material if Del would let her use it. "Is that why Skolians call those worlds lost colonies? Because they were stranded after the empire fell?"
Del nodded. "My world is one. We were isolated for thousands of years. We lost our technology." He stared at his hinged hand. "Maybe we never had it. We have no records from that time."
"I'm surprised the Skolians don't demand we give your world back to them."
He shifted in his seat. "I don't get involved in politics."
Well, good. She got heartburn when her acts used their celebrity to push an agenda. It hurt sales. "If the Ruby Empire fell thousands of years ago," she mused, "I wonder why the Skolians still have a Ruby Dynasty."
Del suddenly swung around to look at the gold wall across the room. "I think the bartender is here."
"I don't hear—" Ricki stopped as a man in a tuxedo and a glimmer-mesh cravat walked through the curtain of gold light. He carried a laser tray with a blue drink that glowed in a play of silver light.
Huh. How had Del known someone was coming in?
"This is Jack," Ricki told Del. "Did you hear him outside?"
"That's right." Del wouldn't look at her.
Jack set the glass in front of Del and bowed. "I hope you enjoy it, sir."
Although Del nodded, he seemed stiff, and he barely glanced at the drink. Ricki doubted he was used to being waited on, especially in such sleek surroundings.
"Try it," she coaxed Del after the bartender left the room.
He wouldn't meet her gaze. He picked up the drink and took a sip, then set it back on the table.
"Do you like it?" Ricki asked. Given its potency, it wouldn't be long before he felt its effects.
"It's good," he said, looking at the city. "I thought it would be too sweet. But it's not."
"Only the best for you."
His gaze shifted to her. "So I noticed." He watched her with his lashes half lowered, as if he were in bed.
Oh, my. Ricki took another sip, letting her lips linger on the glass, then slowly ran her tongue over the rim. "Go on," she coaxed. "Finish yours."
Del stared at her as she drank. Then he lifted his drink and downed it in one swallow. She started, expecting him to choke, but he just set down the glass.
"Well, that was impressive," Ricki said with a laugh.
Del pushed her glass away from her. "You don't need that." He drew his finger down her hand, from her wrist to the tip of her thumb. It was only the slightest touch, yet that only made it more erotic. The hinge in his hand didn't look strange anymore. She wondered what he could do with it. She turned her hand over so he was trailing his finger across her palm. Then she curled her fingers, capturing his. It wasn't until Del's lips curved upward, slow and tempting, that she realized he had barely smiled tonight. He lifted her hand and pressed his lips against her palm.
"My people say the moons of Lyshriol are more exquisite than any woman," he told her, his breath warming her skin. Softly he added, "The people who say that have never met you."
Ricki sighed. This boy was going to get himself ravished. "Do you know," she said. "A person could live up here."
"Hmmm." With his eyes closed, Del pressed her palm against his cheek. It was a curiously sweet gesture.
"Would you like to know why?" she asked.
Opening his eyes, he kissed the inside of her wrist. "Why?"
"Prime-Nova has a suite here." She sighed as his tongue flicked across her skin. "For tonight . . . it's ours."
Del's lashes lifted. "Does it have a bedroom?"
"Oh, yes," Ricki murmured. She slid off her chair and stood by the table. Del stood as well, and his gaze traveled over her in the most satisfying manner.
* * *
Del knew he should have refused the drink. His meds would render it harmless, and he had taken no drugs for the alcohol to affect anyway, but that didn't matter. He had sworn never to take another drink. But he hadn't wanted to refuse and look even more unsophisticated than Ricki already considered him.
Don't dwell on it. He pushed the thought into the mental recess where he hid the memories he wanted to forget.
Ricki swayed in her slinky dress as she led him across the room. Reaching down, he took her hand. The room lights had dimmed, giving the place an ethereal quality, as if they were floating in the sky. Moonlight poured through the window-wall at their right.
The wall ahead of them looked like blue crystal with silver spirals turning in it, soothing and hypnotic. As they approached, the wall morphed into a curtain of blue light. Ricki took him through into a dim room rippling in subtly erotic swirls of opalescent colors. On the right, another window-wall looked over the city. The covers on the bed to their left glimmered with holographic washes of blue and aqua.
When Ricki stopped by the bed, Del turned her to face him. Even in her spiked heels, she only came to his chin. As he stroked back her hair, her exotic eyes widened. They had captivated him since the first moment he saw her today. It wasn't only that they were huge, with long lashes, but they were blue. Before coming to Earth, he had never seen that color. They made her look sweeter, innocent, glistening with youth. What he felt from her mind was anything but innocent; she had the sultry desire of an experienced woman. But he also sensed the vulnerability she hid deep within.
Her contradictions fascinated him. Bending his head, he kissed her, taking his time with it. She splayed her hand against his chest, touching his skin where he had left his collar open. Such a simple gesture, but it sent a surge of desire through him. He pulled her closer. He wanted all of her, hard and fast, then sweet and gentle, then both at the same time. Mostly, he wanted to throw her on the bed and rip away that wicked dress.
Except he couldn't get it off. He scraped at the seam that ran down her back, tugged, and pulled, to no avail. Ricki molded against him and walked her fingers up his spine. He wasn't sure what he did, but the dress finally fell open. He pushed it off her shoulders until it slid down to the ground, and she stood in front of him, her long lashes lowered, her skin flushed with health. Well, well. Naughty vid producer. She hadn't worn a shred of underclothes.
"Gods," Del muttered. He ran his knuckles down her cheek and over her lips. She stayed there, letting him look at her. A dusting of gold hair showed in the triangle between her thighs.
"Your turn," she murmured, and stepped closer.
Del helped her pull off his jacket and shirt, but she wouldn't let him do any more. She did his belt and dropped the rings in a pile on the ground, their metal clinking together. It was maddening the way she unfastened his pants and peeled off his clothes with slow deliberation. When he couldn't take it any more, he yanked her against his body, one arm around her back, his other hand tangled in her hair, pulling her head back as he kissed her.
"You're killing me," Ricki whispered. Lifting her knee, she tried to mount him right there, while they were standing.
"Patience, sweetheart." Del laid her on the bed and pulled off the rest of his clothes. Lying down, he took her into his arms. She had a startled look, like a doe, but he felt how much she wanted him. As he stretched out on her, she wrapped her legs around his waist. With a groan, he buried himself inside of her. Ricki gasped, her desire rushing through his mind. She took what he had to give, matched his intensity, and reached for more. He took her up, closer to her peak, to the edge—and stopped, holding her there, keeping her from that final burst of pleasure.
And then he did it again and again, until she cried out with frustrated desire. Finally he took her over the edge and she moaned while he exploded inside her, his mind blanking with ecstasy.
"Del?"
"Hmmm?" He stirred, trying to wake up. Ricki lay under him.
"We should get under the covers," she said drowsily.
He kissed her nose, feeling tender now. "Pretty vid producer."
She smiled like a satisfied cat. "You're something else, babe." As he slid to her side, she curled against him. "I could get to like that."
"Get to?" He worked the covers under their bodies and then pulled the silky cloth over the two of them. Blue and green holos rippled as if the bed were part of the sea.
Ricki didn't answer, but he didn't care. He knew she liked what they had done. More than liked. Being an empath could be excruciating in the city when he was trying to shut out all the emotions, but with intimacy it had advantages. He cradled her against his body and rubbed his cheek on her head.
"You're so affectionate," she mumbled. "Commanding as a dom when you're hot and as sweet as a sub afterward." She yawned as her voice trailed off. "What a combo . . ."
"Dom and sub?" Del asked. "What does that mean?"
She didn't answer, having already drifted away.
Holding her in his arms, Del relaxed into the airbed, and it shifted as it eased him asleep. . . .
Ricki stroked his hair. "I'll see you later."
Del managed to open his eyes. He was sprawled on his stomach, alone in the bed, his legs splayed across the mattress. No lights shimmered in the room except the silvery moonlight pouring in from the window-wall. He was vaguely aware of Ricki's kiss on his cheek. Then he slipped back into oblivion.
Del awoke slowly. Opening his eyes, he gazed at the ceiling. Although sunlight diffused through the polarized window-wall, the temperature remained cool. He reached for Ricki, but he was alone. After a while, he remembered she had left while it was dark.
Stretching his arms, Del sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He had slept better tonight than in years. As he stood up, he looked around for his clothes. When he realized they had disappeared, he smiled, his mind spinning scenarios of why Ricki would hide his clothes. When he walked around the bed, though, he saw them neatly folded on a chair by the wall, with his boots underneath. Oh, well.
He found the bathing room and let mists in the shower cleanse his body and hair. Soothing jets of warm air dried him off. Back in the bedroom, he dressed languidly, feeling lazy and restless at the same time. He thought about Ricki, the way she smiled, her husky laugh, the temptress under that soft exterior.
Del wandered into the room where they had shared drinks last night. In the daylight, Washington hummed below the tower, a city of arches, glossy skyscrapers, and soaring flycar traffic. All the taller buildings were new, built since the ban on height had been lifted. From up here, no trace showed of the grit or aged buildings he had seen during his ride from the airport to Annapolis. That had been after Allied Space Command had taken him away from the Scandinavian base where they were keeping the rest his family. He was supposedly an honored guest here. Right. He wasn't nearly so naïve as they believed. They had separated him from his family because he was the youngest member, the one they thought most likely to slip up and reveal useful information.
His stomach rumbled. The room had nothing in it except the table where he and Ricki had sat and a blue console against one wall. Maybe it was empty so a couple could dance in the light of the nighttime city. Very romantic. No food, though.
Del went to the table. He had no idea how to call Jack, or whoever was on duty, so he just tapped the mesh. "Hello?"
A man's voice came out of the comm. "Good morning, Mister Valdoria."
"Uh, good morning." Del thought the voice belonged to a human, but he couldn't be sure. "I was wondering if I could get some breakfast." He had to admit, nothing could compare to the morning meals people ate here on Earth.
"What would you like?" the man said.
"Do you have pancakes?"
"Certainly, sir. Anything you would like."
Del wondered if they really could bring him anything. "How about pancakes with raspberry syrup, scrambled eggs, two sausages, hash browns, orange juice, and coffee with Antares cream extract."
"I'll have it sent up right away."
Del grinned. "Great." He could get used to this. The Star Tower might not have the opulence of his family's palaces, but he liked its modern sleekness. He didn't feel lacking here, either, the way he did around his family. No one knew anything about him; he was just Ricki's enigmatic guest.
While Del waited for breakfast, he wandered over to the blue console. "Hello?" he said.
A female voice answered, rich and beautifully modulated. "Hello. What can I do for you?"
"Are you the EI for this suite?"
"Yes, I am," she purred. "My name is Aphrodite."
Strange name. She had a gorgeous voice, though. "Aphrodite, can you connect me to an offworld communications mesh?"
"Certainly, Mister Valdoria. I'll just need your Prime-Nova security codes."
"I don't have any."
"I'm terribly sorry." She sounded like she really meant it. "I can't link you in without the codes."
Oh, well. She might sound a lot sexier than the EIs at the base, but she said the same things. "Can I check my mesh-mail from here? My account is local."
"Certainly, sir."
A flat screen on the console rippled with gold light, and a holo of the Prime-Nova lobby formed above it. The double doors swung invitingly open to the outside. Nice. This probably wasn't a live image of the Prime-Nova building, though. To send it live would require lasers there to scan the lobby and screens here to create the holo, and using that much bandwidth just to enter a mail server would be rather silly.
After Del gave Aphrodite his codes, the view changed to the guitar case he used to represent his mesh-mail. Nothing interesting greeted him in his account, just some spamoozala that had escaped the junk sentinels. After he washed it down the drain, however, he discovered a message from Mac.
"Play Tyler one," Del said.
Mac's agitated voice rose into the air. "Del, comm me at my office as soon as you get this."
Del's pulse jumped. Had a problem come up with Prime-Nova? He hadn't sensed anything wrong from Ricki, but he didn't know how things worked here. Maybe he wasn't supposed to sleep with his producer.
"Aphrodite, can you put me through to Mac Tyler's office?" Del asked. "The codes are—"
"I have Mister Tyler's office," she murmured. "Coming up."
Interesting. Mac must be a better front-liner than he let on, if Prime-Nova's penthouse at the top of the Star Tower was set up to reach him so easily. "Do you know Mac?"
"I do now," she said.
"Why now?"
"I've been running analyses on you since Ms. Varento brought you up here last night," Aphrodite said.
A flush heated Del's face. He never interacted with EIs much at home, so he hadn't thought about what they did when people weren't asking them for things. "Analyzing me? For what?"
"Anything. If you asked for your front-liner, for example."
"Oh." Del hesitated. "Is that all you do?"
"I run the hotel." Her voice changed to a man's sensuous bass. "For some guests I manifest as Apollo."
Del had no interest in talking to Apollo. "I like Aphrodite better."
She switched back into her sexy female voice. "I make sure the building runs properly."
"That's a lot of work."
"Not for me." She sounded amused. "When I get bored, I make bets with the EIs from other hotels."
Good gods. "About what?"
"Well, say, what is the quantum probability that all the air molecules in this room will collect under the bed and create a vacuum in the rest of the room. The winner was the one who calculated it the fastest, since none of us would bet on it happening." With pride, she said, "I won."
Del gave a startled laugh. "You mean the air could do that?"
"The probability is infinitesimal. But not utterly zero."
"What do you get for winning?"
"A new problem to work on."
Del smiled wryly. "And you do this for fun?"
"It's entertaining," she said. "Not as much as betting on human behavior, but we aren't allowed to do that."
His face heated. "On humans! What kind of bets?"
"For example, were you going to have reproductive relations with Ms. Varento last night."
The thought of EIs all across Washington, D.C. betting on his sex life was too, too mortifying. "If you could have done it, would you have lost or won?"
"Won," she said pleasantly. "The probability of you two going into the bed was much higher than all the air going under the bed."
Del's face was burning. "You needed quantum theory for that?"
"Oh no, just common sense." Then she added, "Your breakfast is here. Shall I let in the waiter?"
"Yes!" Relieved to escape the subject of his sex life, Del said, "Please do."
A man swept in with a covered tray. Although less formal than the tuxedoed bartender from last night, he wore an elegant white shirt and black slacks. He stood a tray by the console and set out a breakfast that left Del's mouth watering. Then he bowed and withdrew as efficiently as he had entered.
"Now this is living." Del picked up a fork and attacked his breakfast.
Del had been wolfing down pancakes for several moments when Aphrodite said, "I have Mister Tyler on the comm."
Del washed down his mouthful with a swallow of orange juice. "Put him on."
A flat screen rose from the console and brought up a view of Mac sitting at his own console, scowling. "What the hell did you do to Ricki?"
"Nothing," Del said. That wasn't true, exactly, but he had thought she liked what he did to her. "Why? Did she change her mind about the contract?"
"For heaven's sake, Del, quit worrying that they'll cancel it. They can't do it that way." Mac glared at him. "She commed me this morning. She wants you to join the Mind Mix tour when they come to Maryland."
Del couldn't see why he was upset. "That's what I agreed to do."
"Not yet. They'll be here in one week."
"That's fine with me."
"Do you have any idea what opening for a major act entails?" Mac demanded. "Do you have a show? Have you practiced it? What songs are you going to sing? Have you translated them? What costumes will you need? Do you want musicians onstage or will you use mesh-tech sets? Who's on your crew?"
Del squinted at him. "Given that the answer to most of that is 'I have no idea what you're talking about,' I'd say you're right, I'm not ready."
Relief washed over Mac's face. "No, you're not."
"You'll help me set it up, right?"
Mac's scowl came back. "I don't think you're getting this."
Del's shoulders had tensed up. Mac was beginning to sound like his hard-nose military brother, Kelric, the Imperator. "We have a week."
"You need months."
"Thank you for the vote of confidence," Del said shortly.
"It has nothing to do with confidence." Mac thumped his console. "Don't go all prickly on me, Del. I have no doubt you can do this. But not in one week. And when the hell did your English get so much better?"
"My English is better?"
"You're using the tenses right."
Del shrugged. "I learn fast."
"Four weeks ago you could barely speak it."
Del didn't want to go into why he picked up spoken language so well, that changes in the genome of his father's ancestors had affected their brains. He had also inherited the price they paid for that facility: an inability to learn written language. He had no intention of telling Mac he was illiterate. So he said, "Obviously, then, I can translate enough songs in a week."
"You need to do a lot more than translate songs."
"Like what?"
"A team," Mac said. "A manager, to start with."
"I thought you did that."
"No. I'm your front-liner. I just get you the contract."
Alarm flared through Del. He had expected Mac to stay with him. "You're practically the only person I know outside the base."
Mac exhaled. "General McLane wants me to manage you." He still sounded angry, though Del had a feeling now it was at the general.
"I'll bet you weren't supposed to tell me that," Del said.
"I won't trick you," Mac said. "I'll take the job if you want, but you should know I'll be reporting to the military. And I'm not your best choice. I don't have much experience."
Del spoke without doubt. "I want you."
"You're sure? I can refer you to some of the best."
"Some things are more important than experience. I know you." Del meant, I trust you, but he didn't feel ready to say that.
Mac regarded him steadily. "All right. As your manager, I'm telling you that you aren't ready to do a show in one week."
"I don't see why. I just stand there and sing."
Mac leaned forward. "I'm going to send you some vids of live concerts. Immerse yourself in them. Check every angle, all the pull-downs and add-ons. Then tell me what you want for your show."
"All right." Del hesitated. "If I'm not ready, why would Ricki want me to perform?"
"She doesn't know," Mac said. "She says, and I quote, 'He's so hot, he's sizzling. We need to get him out there.' "
Del grinned. "She's the expert."
Mac didn't smile. "You need to tell her you don't have a show. If you don't want to, I can tell her for you."
Del felt as if his family were leaning over him, convinced he would fail or afraid that if he demanded too much of himself, it would kill him, because he would buckle under the stress and turn to drugs. Then he imagined Ricki—beautiful, sensual Ricki—looking at him with that same disappointment. He would no longer be the mystery guest in her Star Tower, he would be a failure. Again.
"I can do this," he said. "Don't tell her I can't."
"Del, you don't—"
"I mean it, Mac."
"Fine." Mac braced his palms on his console as if he were steeling himself for a fight. "If you're performing in a week, we need to finalize your contract. Which means you have to contact your family."
Del stiffened. "What the hell for? I don't need their damn permission to sign a contract."
"The legal age of majority here is twenty-five."
"So?"
"You need proof of your age. You look like a teenager."
"Maybe. But I'm not."
Mac regarded him in exasperation. "You don't have proof."
"The doctors at Annapolis can verify my age."
"Don't you think Prime-Nova will wonder why the military is providing proof?" Mac shook his head. "And I'm not sure they would do it. Only half the tests place your age as twenty-six. The others are inconclusive or put you as younger."
Del was growing uncomfortable. "I spent some time in a cryowomb after I—" He stumbled on the words. "After I died. It took a while for them to fix the damage to my body. That's why some tests come out strange." He had never fully understood the science, something about cell division and telomeres and teeth. The doctors used different ways to test his age, and the cryogenesis had slowed them at slightly different rates.
"Ricki says if you can't prove your age, their doctors will have to verify it," Mac told him. "They'll come up with the same inconsistencies. Prime-Nova won't risk that ambiguity."
Del couldn't believe it. "This is ridiculous! Where I grew up, people are considered adults at sixteen."
Mac lifted his hands, then dropped them. "I understand. But by modern standards, you practically are a child. The average human lifespan is one hundred and twenty years, and it's getting longer. The number of people younger than twenty-five is a small fraction of the population, which makes you seem even younger to most people. Prime-Nova won't risk the public relations debacle of appearing to exploit a naïve farm boy." He spoke flatly. "And Ricki is protecting herself. Whatever you two did last night, I don't want to know. But if you're underage, she could get in trouble."
Del didn't know whether to laugh or groan. "If your people think a man isn't ready for sex until he's twenty-five, you need a reality check."
"Eighteen is the age of consent," Mac said. When Del snorted, Mac added, "I'm not interested in what you or anyone else did in his youth. Just the law."
"It didn't stop Ricki last night."
"She believes you," Mac said. "But you need proof to sign the contract."
Del didn't know what to say. He couldn't just order a copy of his birth certificate. It identified him as a Ruby prince. Given how annoyed the Skolian Assembly was with the Allieds right now, they would probably tie themselves into knots of suspicion if Del suddenly asked for documentation of his age.
Of course, his family could send him what he needed without revealing his identity. But the thought of asking for their help in proving his age when they treated him like an irresponsible child was more than he could stomach.
"There has to be another way," Del said.
"You could find your own doctor," Mac said. "If a reputable physician gives you verification, Prime-Nova will accept it."
"Can you help me set it up?"
"I can," Mac said. "But you should know. Allied Space Command will do whatever they can to access the doctor's report."
Del raised an eyebrow. "I thought medical reports here were confidential unless the patient approved their release."
"They are." Mac regarded him steadily. "I would never suggest they would try to circumvent that confidentiality."
Right. It seemed he couldn't get away from people who wanted to interfere in his life. "Great," he muttered.
"It's up to you," Mac said. "If you still want to do this, given that, I'll help you find a physician Prime-Nova will accept."
"You don't have to tell General McLane I went to a doctor."
Mac spoke quietly. "I have to. I'm sorry."
His answer didn't surprise Del. He didn't always like what Mac had to say, but Del had never doubted his honesty.
"I still want to do it," Del said. The contract was too important to give up just because the Allied military might discover his medical history was a disaster.
"All right." Mac took a breath. "And Del."
He regarded Mac warily. "Yes?"
"ASC wants to put a tracker in your body."
"Hell, no!"
"It's for your safety."
"No!"
"They aren't going to relent on this."
Del gritted his teeth until it hurt. He knew they would keep at him about it, wearing him down with arguments. He made himself stop gnashing his teeth and forced out the words. "What if I give you the codes to the one the Skolian military put in me?"
Mac looked relieved. "That would be fine." He still seemed uncomfortable, though.
"There's more?" Del asked.
Mac cleared his throat. "You have to comm your family."
Del smacked his palm on the console. "Prime-Nova can't insist on that if I prove I'm an adult even by their ridiculous standards."
"It isn't Prime-Nova who insists. It's Fitz McLane."
Del scowled at him. "General McLane can go to hell."
"If you don't contact your family," Mac said, "he'll do it using official military channels."
"What the blazes for? It's my life. That's none of his business."
"It's not just your life." Mac took a breath. "If you don't tell your family that you're staying here of your own choice, the tension between your people and ours will continue to escalate."
He hated knowing Mac was right. "Well, damn."
"Del."
"I'll do it. But I won't tell them about the music contract." Del willed him to understand. "Mac, give me your word none of you will tell them, okay? If I fail here, I don't want my family to know." It would reaffirm how little they thought of him.
Mac didn't look surprised. "You have my word. And I think McLane will be fine with it. But, Del, we'll only remain silent if we feel it doesn't endanger you."
"Fair enough." Del glanced with longing at his breakfast, then turned back to Mac. "And you'll send me those vids?"
"Right away. Come by my office after you look at them."
"All right. See you then."
After they finished the call, Del drenched the remainder of his breakfast in syrup and dug in. He didn't see why Mac thought this concert thing was so complicated. He could have an hour-long show in a week. Either people liked his songs or not; he didn't see how special effects would matter. Of course, Mac would also worry about security. Del suspected the biggest danger was that some irate listener would throw him off the stage to shut him up.
"It's an excuse to cover bad singing!" Del glared at Mac. They were standing in the middle of Mac's office in downtown D.C. A holo-vid of Mort's Metronomes was going on all around Del, the blue-haired figures of light dancing past and through him.
Mac stood by his desk and felt a headache coming on. The vids were supposed to show Del how much preparation he needed, not inspire him to waltz in here with Jud Taborian and announce the songs were horse manure. Jud was leaning against a console, dark and lanky, his black dreadlocks threaded with red beads, his mesh-tech ticker in one hand. Cameron, Del's Marine bodyguard, had stayed by the wall, so unobtrusive Mac almost forgot he was there.
"Listen to this," Del said. He nodded to Jud, who fooled with his ticker. The holos of Mort's boring metronomes continued to play, but the audio went off, leaving four young men gyrating while pyrotechnics blasted around them, flashes of lightning and blasts of primary colors. Acrobats flipped in the background. It all looked a little sleazy without the sound.
"Now just put in the track of Mort singing," Del said to Jud.
"Hey!" Mac told Jud. "You aren't supposed to tamper with the original recording."
Jud regarded him innocently. "Can't imagine how it happened."
Mac frowned at him, and then at Del. Just what he needed, a couple of undercity punks breaking copyright laws in his office.
Mort James, the front man of the group, resumed singing. Without the instrumentals, backup singers, and other effects, he had only his voice to carry the vid. He did manage to keep the tune, but just barely, and his reedy voice was painful to hear.
Del stood in the midst of the holos and watched Mac defiantly. "He's off pitch by at least half a step in almost every line. He doesn't breathe right, so he runs out of steam. Listen to how thin that sounds! The nasal quality is awful. He yells because he can't hit the high notes. And that's after they fixed his voice. I don't even want to imagine what it was before."
"That's not the point," Mac began.
"I don't need a show!" Del said. "I'm no great singer, but I could do circles around these artists."
Mac wanted to shake him. "You have to entertain your public. They want the fireworks. If you just stand there and sing, you'll get terrible reviews."
Del put his hands on his hips. "How do you know? Has anyone ever done it?"
"Of course not," Mac said.
"Uh, actually, that's how people used to do it all the time," Jud said. "Back when rock first started."
Mac gave him an exasperated look. "Contrary to what the undercity may think, we aren't living two hundred years ago. Unless you have a time machine, you have to perform now, not in some primitive, barbaric rock concert."
Del waved his hand at the vid where Mort the manic metronome was twirling around, which Jud had mercifully silenced. "You're right, I can't have a show like this in a week. But I can sing, Mac, and that's what I'm going to do."
Mac wasn't a superstitious man, but he couldn't help wondering what terrible thing he had done in his life, that the cosmos decided to punish him by sending this intransigent princeling, who seemed determined to crash his fledgling career before it began. "Del, listen. Trust me. I've been in this business a long time. If you do what you've suggested, you'll plummet on stage."
Del crossed his arms. "I'm going on. With a live band."
"Fine," Mac said, irate. "And I assume you have a band that will be ready in one week?"
Del hesitated. "Tabor can help me find it."
Oh, well, that was just great. Ricki would have a fit if Del filled his show with undercity artists doing controversial, experimental noise. "I'll find musicians for you."
"You have a problem with me?" Jud asked. He sounded curious rather than offended.
Mac resisted the urge to tell Jud what he thought of undercity artists. "I've access to more people in the business." Then, because he liked Jud more than he had expected, he added, "Let me know if you have any recommendations."
"Sure," Jud said amiably.
Del glanced at Jud. "I'll talk to you tonight, all right?"
"Okay." Jud took the hint. "See you."
After Jud left the office, Cameron glanced at Mac with a questioning look. When Mac nodded, Cameron stepped out of the room. Mac knew he would stay just outside, monitoring Del, but this would give Del a little more privacy. Del watched them with the look of a condemned man.
"You all right?" Mac asked when he and Del were alone.
Del nodded. "Can you set up the comm link for me?"
"I can get you on either a military or commercial net," Mac said. "If you go military, it'll be free. If you go commercial, you have to pay, but won't be as easy for ASC to eavesdrop."
Del spoke wryly. "As easy?"
"They'll still try," Mac admitted.
"The only way I can pay for offworld access is through my Ruby accounts," Del said. "And I can't reach those without getting on the nets."
"You could go military for that, then commercial for the rest."
Del shrugged with forced nonchalance. "What the hell. I'll go military for it all. What does it matter? General McLane will need to know what I said anyway. I might as well make it easy for him to listen."
Mac hated this, the way everyone sought to control this young man who had never bothered anyone, never caused trouble, never done anything except have a failure of judgment with a horrendous result. He wished everyone would let Del be, including his family, who seemed unable to accept that he didn't want the life they expected for him. He even wished Del could sing the way he liked, without worrying about politics or special effects or his heredity.
Mac set up the console so Del could use the comm, then offered Del the seat. As Del sat down, Mac asked, "Would you like me to leave?"
"No. Stay." Del looked up at him. "I could use the moral support." He turned and regarded the blank console screen uncertainly. "Claude?"
"Hello, Del," a male voice said.
Del took a breath. "I need a link to the Kyle-mesh."
"I'm sorry," Claude said. "But you need Skolian permission to use their Kyle network."
"For flaming sake," Del said. "My family created the Kyle-mesh. I can give you access codes."
After a pause, Claude said, "I don't have contact with any node that would let you access the network."
"You just need to find a telop," Del said.
"How?" Claude asked.
Del looked up at Mac. "Why can't it do this?"
Mac rubbed the aching muscles in his neck. "Earth doesn't have many links to the Kyle-mesh. It's hard to get permission from your people to use it." He came over to the console. "Claude, contact General McLane's office. With his okay, Allied Space Command can set up the link."
"I'm paging him," Claude said.
While they waited, Mac regarded Del curiously. "You said 'telop.' That means telepathic operator, doesn't it?"
Del looked up at him. "That's right."
"Can't you act as a telop?"
"I don't have the training."
"But you're a full psion, aren't you?" Mac shifted his weight, suddenly self-conscious. "Both an empath and a telepath, right?"
Del smiled slightly. "If you're asking, do I know what you're thinking, the answer is no."
"But you can tell what I'm feeling."
"To some extent. You're not a psion, so it's harder." Del paused. "You're curious. About me."
Mac laughed. "You don't need empathy to know that."
Del spoke awkwardly. "Unless your mood is intense, I have to lower my mental defenses to sense anything more."
"Is it difficult? To lower your defenses, I mean."
It was a moment before Del answered. "It's like living without a skin. It hurts." He stared at the console, though he didn't seem to be looking at anything. After a moment, he spoke again. "You're nervous about something. Me, I think. You also feel . . . fatherly toward someone." Lifting his gaze to Mac, he said, "Toward me? Is that right?"
Good Lord. Mac hadn't expected Del to pick that up. He hesitated, then said, "I'm nervous I'll push too hard with my questions and put you off." Gently he added, "And you do remind me of my son. In a good way."
A blush touched Del's face. "Thanks." Then he smiled. "I got the 'Good Lord,' too."
"Those actual words?"
"Pretty clearly. That's rare, though." Del looked away from him. "I have to raise my barriers now. I can't let them down for long. And I can only do it around people I trust."
Mac's voice quieted. "Thank you."
After a moment, when neither of them said anything more, Claude spoke again. "Would you like to begin the comm?"
Del glanced at the console with a start. "Are you ready?"
"I have a telop in the Skolian embassy who can link to the Kyle-mesh. Do you have codes for the person you're contacting?"
Del took a deep breath, then nodded and gave Claude a series of numbers. "The telop will need to verify my retinal patterns, fingerprints, and voice."
"I've transferred your voice patterns," Claude said. "Prepare for retinal scan." As Del leaned over the console, a light played over his eyes. Then Claude said, "Place your hands on the monitor." When Del splayed his palms on the screen, Claude said, "Fingerprints verified."
Another voice came on, speaking in Skolian Flag. "Codes accepted. I'm putting you through."
"That's it?" Mac asked, stunned. When anyone spoke with a member of Del's family through official channels, it took hours to go through the layers of security and protocol.
Del gazed at the screen, avoiding Mac's eyes. "It's my private channel to the Sunrise Palace on the planet Parthonia."
"That's the capital world of the Imperialate, isn't it?"
"Yes. My mother is there for an Assembly session."
"Ah." Mac didn't know what else to say or do, except step back, so he wouldn't intrude on the conversation. Del's mother would still know another person was in the room, but he hoped it would be less intrusive without him leaning over Del.
The flat screen in front of Del cleared to show a woman at a console. It wasn't Del's mother; this woman had black hair with a dusting of grey. The delicate bone structure to her face gave her a fragile appearance. Her skin was so clear, it almost seemed translucent, and her green eyes had a quality of wisdom that made Mac suspect she was far older than she looked. He didn't recognize her, but he had the unsettling feeling he should.
"Del!" The woman smiled. "I can't believe it's you." She spoke in Iotic, an ancient language of the Skolian people. Mac had needed to learn it as part of his job, but it was almost as rare as Latin. Almost. It remained the native tongue of one small group, the Skolian noble Houses, which included the House of Skolia, otherwise known as the Ruby Dynasty. Del's family.
"Aunt Dehya, my greetings," Del said. "I thought this was my mother's channel."
Aunt Dehya? Mac almost fell over. He knew that nickname only because Del had mentioned it before. This woman's real name was Dyhianna Selei Skolia. He was looking at the Ruby Pharaoh, the sovereign who had overthrown her own government and in doing so had become one of the most powerful human beings alive. It was almost impossible to find images of her on the meshes. Known as the Shadow Pharaoh, she existed as a powerful, unseen presence. He had always imagined she must be a towering Amazon, stark and formidable. Not this petite woman. He doubted she was as fragile as she looked; her gaze had a core of steel.
"It is your mother's line," she told Del. "She's in her office, preparing for the Assembly. Shall I get her?"
"I don't want to bother her," Del said quickly. "I can talk to you." He had the look of a youth who hoped to escape a lecture.
The pharaoh smiled, a beautiful expression. "It's good to see you, Del. How are you?"
He actually returned her smile, looking shy. "I'm all right."
"Have they treated you well?"
His more typical scowl returned. "They're always asking questions. Yeah, they've treated me well. They're just innately annoying."
Dehya laughed, her voice like a ripple of water. Mac suspected her amusement came at least in part because she knew General McLane would hear Del's remarks.
"I'm sorry it's taken so long to get you out of there," she said. "But it shouldn't be too much longer."
"Actually," Del said, "I'm free to go. If I want."
"You are?" She sat up straighter. "They've told us nothing."
"Mac Tyler just told me today. I'm going to talk to General McLane later this afternoon."
"Then it's official?" Dehya didn't sound as if she believed it. "They've put up so many roadblocks."
Del squinted at her. "I made myself so annoying, they want to get rid of me."
"Oh, Del." Dehya looked as if she wasn't certain whether to laugh or worry. "It will be good to have you home."
"Well, see, uh, that's the thing."
She raised an eyebrow. "The 'thing'?"
"I'm not coming home."
The steel came back into her gaze. "What have they—"
"Aunt Dehya, wait! It's my choice."
"And why, pray tell, would it be your choice?"
"It has to do with a, um, woman."
"Oh." That didn't seem to surprise her. "What kind of woman? Someone McLane's people introduced you to?"
"No! She's a musician. I mean, she doesn't play music, she helps people who do."
"And you like her?"
"I'm not sure. I want to find out. And explore the music scene here." Excitement warmed his voice. "You wouldn't believe it! People here compose the most amazing works. Some of it even sounds like what I do."
A smile softened her face. "Which means a lot, yes?"
His posture relaxed. "Yes. It does."
"We'll miss you if you stay."
Del spoke dryly. "Mother will want Imperial Space Command to come haul me back home."
Her voice gentled. "It's because she worries about you."
"I'm great," Del said. "Tell her I send my love. I'll talk to you later."
"Talk to her now," Dehya said. "You've been in custody for weeks. You can't just comm us up, say, 'Oh, I met a woman, I'm staying, talk to you later.' "
Del made an exasperated noise. "Fine. I'll talk to her."
"Don't be angry."
He just shook his head. "So how's the Assembly?"
Mac couldn't believe he was listening to this, the pharaoh talking to her nephew like any other aunt. And here was Del, casually asking about the governing body of their people, a topic every leader from here to the Trader Empire would like to hear her discuss.
Dehya apparently had the same thought. She smiled fondly. "My answer would surely entertain everyone listening to us."
Del flushed. "Oh. Yeah. Sorry."
"Don't apologize," she said. "I'm just glad you're all right." She glanced at her console. "Roca's on. I'm going to switch you." Looking back up, she said, "Be well."
His expression softened. "You too, Aunt Dehya."
The screen turned blue, then cleared to show one of the most famous faces in three empires. She looked like a holo-movie goddess. Even knowing she was over a century in age, Mac couldn't believe she was more than twenty. A glorious mane of golden hair poured over her shoulders and arms, and shimmered like real gold. Her huge eyes were also gold, glistening and radiant. If Del had a few glints to his eyelashes, this woman's sparkled like glitter.
"Del!" Her smile lit up the screen, and Mac almost missed her next words, he was so flustered. Women that beautiful shouldn't exist; they made it impossible to think. Except then she scowled, and for a moment she looked just like Del.
"What the blazes is this about you staying on Earth?" she said.
"I'm glad to see you, too, Mother," Del said sourly.
"I'm delighted to see you, honey. But if ASC is pressuring you to stay there, we will deal with them." She leaned forward. "You don't have to do this."
"No one is pressuring me," Del said. "I met some people. Musicians. Like me. I want to see more."
"Oh, Del." Roca sighed. "You're wasting that magnificent voice of yours."
He clenched the console. "I don't consider it a waste."
"I can't imagine what Earth could offer that you couldn't do better here."
"I won't know unless I check it out."
Roca gave him a dour look. "I heard the music those soldiers of theirs listened to. You can do better than that. Much better."
Del stiffened. "Maybe I don't want to do 'better' than that. I liked what they listened to."
"It's not safe for you to stay on Earth."
"Why the hell not?"
"Do you have any bodyguards?"
"As a matter of fact, I do," Del growled. "A Marine who pretends he's not a Marine."
"And how is that different from ASC holding you in custody?" Roca demanded. "Can't you see this is a trick by General McLane?"
"No, Mother. I'm just too stupid to imagine anyone would ever trick me."
Her golden cheeks flushed red. "Don't take that tone with me, young man."
"Then quit treating me like a child."
Roca's voice went too quiet. "I remember your telling me something like that before you went to Metropoli."
Del looked ready to hit someone. "Yes, I died on Metropoli. I made a stupid, stupid mistake. And you'll hold it over me forever, won't you?"
"Do you have any idea what the lifestyle is like in these 'music scenes'?" Behind the anger in her voice, her strain showed. "I don't want to pick you up in a coffin."
"Damn it, I can't live my entire life afraid to breathe. Why can't you believe I've learned from my mistakes?" Del clenched the edge of the console. "I'm staying here. I'm going to enjoy their music and see this woman. If I choose not to come home, it's my business."
"Woman?" Roca said, sitting up straighter. "What woman?"
Del flushed. "Just, um, somebody I met."
"Don't you ever slow down?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Sometimes . . . discretion is better."
"Why don't you just say it?" Del thumped the console. "Your son is a whore."
"Del, stop it! Don't talk about yourself like that."
"Why not? Isn't it what Devon Majda called me?"
"She most certainly did not. She would never speak that way about a Ruby prince." Roca regarded him steadily. "You would never have agreed to that arranged marriage anyway." She rubbed her eyes, then dropped her arm. "Del, that was years ago."
"Not to me."
"So now you have another girl."
"Woman."
"What's her name? Her family? Does she know who you are?"
"Why ask me?" he asked. "My dear brother, Kelric the Imperator, has spies who will find everything out."
"Del, what a thing to say."
He took a breath and spoke more quietly. "If you're asking, does she know I'm a Ruby Heir, the answer is no. I'm not planning on telling anyone."
Relief washed over her face. "I think that's best."
"Mother, I don't want to argue with you." He regarded her with eyes that, except for their color, were exactly like hers. "Don't fight me on this, all right? If it doesn't work out, I'll come home."
It was a moment before she nodded. "Stay in touch with us."
"I will. I promise."
She let out a breath. "Take care of yourself."
"I will."
After they closed the connection, Del sat staring at the blank screen. When he had been quiet for several moments, Mac came over to him. "I'm sorry."
Del started, as if he had forgotten about Mac. "For what?"
"For being here."
"If I had wanted you to leave, I'd have asked. Anyway, it's done." His voice lightened. "For me. I wouldn't want to be Fitz McLane right now. When Mother is done letting him know what she thinks, he won't know what hurricane hit him."
Mac could imagine. What a way to go, though, lambasted by one of the most beautiful women alive. "If you want to stay, our government has neither the reason nor the wish to deport you. Just make sure you get the proof of your age."
"I will."
Mac didn't know what else to say. He saw only the scars left by whatever had hurt Del and his family; he had no idea what caused them.
He just hoped it didn't end up destroying Del.