noticed Rob Quinn, one savant tender among thousands? What if Rob was about to suffer just because of having the wrong brother?
Emily’s face had a faint sheen of perspiration, as though dreaming were hard work. The room swelled around him, full of big things like justice and innocence and rage. He was going. Of course he was. The decision felt like fog evaporating off the ocean. He wasn’t going to watch this family suffer. He’d walked into the room having decided, but not realizing it. Now, it was clear.
As the breath he was holding left him, he felt weak with relief. He’d wanted to go from the moment Lamar asked him—he’d just hated going at Minerva’s request. But the truth was, he’d go any way he had to.
Mateo stirred, knotting his blankets around him like armor.
Okay, then. I’m going.
On his way out of the bedroom, he cast a glance at Jasmine Star, sitting in her cardboard box.
“Yes,” Quinn answered her at last. “Heading into the fray.”
In the darkness, he thought he heard a far-off din, as though he were hearing, across endless plains, a thousand voices raised in a desperate battle.
CHAPTER FIVE
S TEFAN POLICH HELD THE SILVER KNIFE, WIDE AND SHARP. “I am expected to do the honors,” he told his guests seated behind their too-thin china and too-thick wine goblets. He surveyed his fourteen dinner guests, including Lamar Gelde, Helice Maki, his mother in her dotage, a remote hanger-on uncle, and various acquaintances to complete the table. None of them could be called friends.
His wife, Dea, sat some distance away, virtually present, pretending to partake of the first course, which in her case was taro root, as she sat in her tent in Papua New Guinea, on her latest foray in search of rare flowers on Sori Island.
Amid applause, his cook entered, bringing the main course: a sparkling ham armored with cloves.
Stefan carved the ruby meat, producing the first serving for his mother, who might or might not remember which fork to use. Next to her sat Lamar Gelde, who was to help her should her manners lapse.
As he carved, Stefan tried to summon the Christmas spirit. The penthouse apartment was bedecked and fragrant, the women in their jeweled colors, the men in black and white, capturing the season with elegance. Behind him, in the sparkling view out to the city’s heart, Stefan’s aerie stood eye-to-eye with the tallest of Portland’s office towers. He missed Dea’s real presence. You couldn’t hold a holographic woman. She searched for the ultimate Christmas present: her own name on an exotic natural orchid. He’d given her everything else, so now, he supposed, she must search for a gift worthy of herself.
Helice smiled at him as he filled her plate. She looked awful in blue. Her neck and décolletage—such as it was—held a yellow pallor. Without makeup she looked like she’d just stepped out of the shower and was ready for a jog. But damn lucky to have her. She could have gone with Generics last year, with that signing bonus they’d offered. Minerva had to offer partnership to get her. Cheap at any price. She was a few points to the right of ultrasmart, and he counted on her strategic wizardry to salvage Minerva’s fortunes.
Because the ships were falling apart. Replacement costs would be staggering. Replacing any of them would suggest that they all should be replaced, since they’d all been built at the same time, back in his grandfather’s day when Minerva had the depth to create an interstellar fleet and command the K-tunnels. Hoarding the technology of black hole stabilization, Minerva had preserved their monopolistic control of the star routes. Now the K-tunnels looked more like rat holes, eating capital, breaking ships down midvoyage, stranding passengers. The public perceived that the black holes were not as controllable as Minerva claimed. There was the perception that people were dying.
Stefan Polich had the perception that he was lunchmeat. He’d be out on his
Emily’s face had a faint sheen of perspiration, as though dreaming were hard work. The room swelled around him, full of big things like justice and innocence and rage. He was going. Of course he was. The decision felt like fog evaporating off the ocean. He wasn’t going to watch this family suffer. He’d walked into the room having decided, but not realizing it. Now, it was clear.
As the breath he was holding left him, he felt weak with relief. He’d wanted to go from the moment Lamar asked him—he’d just hated going at Minerva’s request. But the truth was, he’d go any way he had to.
Mateo stirred, knotting his blankets around him like armor.
Okay, then. I’m going.
On his way out of the bedroom, he cast a glance at Jasmine Star, sitting in her cardboard box.
“Yes,” Quinn answered her at last. “Heading into the fray.”
In the darkness, he thought he heard a far-off din, as though he were hearing, across endless plains, a thousand voices raised in a desperate battle.
CHAPTER FIVE
S TEFAN POLICH HELD THE SILVER KNIFE, WIDE AND SHARP. “I am expected to do the honors,” he told his guests seated behind their too-thin china and too-thick wine goblets. He surveyed his fourteen dinner guests, including Lamar Gelde, Helice Maki, his mother in her dotage, a remote hanger-on uncle, and various acquaintances to complete the table. None of them could be called friends.
His wife, Dea, sat some distance away, virtually present, pretending to partake of the first course, which in her case was taro root, as she sat in her tent in Papua New Guinea, on her latest foray in search of rare flowers on Sori Island.
Amid applause, his cook entered, bringing the main course: a sparkling ham armored with cloves.
Stefan carved the ruby meat, producing the first serving for his mother, who might or might not remember which fork to use. Next to her sat Lamar Gelde, who was to help her should her manners lapse.
As he carved, Stefan tried to summon the Christmas spirit. The penthouse apartment was bedecked and fragrant, the women in their jeweled colors, the men in black and white, capturing the season with elegance. Behind him, in the sparkling view out to the city’s heart, Stefan’s aerie stood eye-to-eye with the tallest of Portland’s office towers. He missed Dea’s real presence. You couldn’t hold a holographic woman. She searched for the ultimate Christmas present: her own name on an exotic natural orchid. He’d given her everything else, so now, he supposed, she must search for a gift worthy of herself.
Helice smiled at him as he filled her plate. She looked awful in blue. Her neck and décolletage—such as it was—held a yellow pallor. Without makeup she looked like she’d just stepped out of the shower and was ready for a jog. But damn lucky to have her. She could have gone with Generics last year, with that signing bonus they’d offered. Minerva had to offer partnership to get her. Cheap at any price. She was a few points to the right of ultrasmart, and he counted on her strategic wizardry to salvage Minerva’s fortunes.
Because the ships were falling apart. Replacement costs would be staggering. Replacing any of them would suggest that they all should be replaced, since they’d all been built at the same time, back in his grandfather’s day when Minerva had the depth to create an interstellar fleet and command the K-tunnels. Hoarding the technology of black hole stabilization, Minerva had preserved their monopolistic control of the star routes. Now the K-tunnels looked more like rat holes, eating capital, breaking ships down midvoyage, stranding passengers. The public perceived that the black holes were not as controllable as Minerva claimed. There was the perception that people were dying.
Stefan Polich had the perception that he was lunchmeat. He’d be out on his
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