Read Online Dance by the Light of the Moon by Milo James Fowler - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Milo James Fowler
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my
question." He faced her as he walked. "Your lifetime?"
"I
don't see that it's any of your business."
"A
single question. If we are to work together, we must know something about one
another."
His
non-confrontational demeanor coupled with such a rude request made a strange
juxtaposition—as if knowing her current lifetime would sum up her entire
existence for him.
"My
fifth—on Futuro."
"And
in all your time here, nothing like this has ever happened before?"
"Of
course not. I included that in my preliminary report."
Twenty
meters ahead, the corridor branched in two; one side led to the control team's
operations center where all six of them would be on duty at this hour, and the
other side led to the mess hall and conference room. Futuro 2 was small enough
that everyone knew how to get everywhere they needed within the first
twenty-four hours aboard. But unless Cade had managed to memorize a map of the
station's layout, he wouldn't know she was leading him to the vidLink with Dr.
Hammersmith, as scheduled, despite his request to meet the crew.
"How
long are the team's shifts?"
"Six
hours." The same as any workday on Earth—also in her report. "What's
your order?"
His
pace slowed, but he did not stop, his face an indecipherable mask.
"My
single question." She shrugged, nodding at his attire. "Not exactly
what I'd expect from a UW official."
"I
do not represent the United World government."
Of
course not. He was an impartial observer . "Last I heard, religions
on Earth had died out."
"Five
lifetimes ago, perhaps. But things have changed. There are new ways that harken
back to the beliefs of the ancients—when life was simpler."
"How
ancient is that?" She pointed to his scabbard, still uncomfortable with
him bringing such a thing onto her station.
His
thin lips curved upward slightly. "There has never been a death aboard a
Futuro station." He stopped where the corridor forked. He didn't know the
way, or he wouldn't have stood there waiting for her to lead onward.
"Until today."
Eyan
folded her arms, flexing her slim-but-sizeable biceps. "You're not a
bureaucrat, and you're not a priest. So who the hell are you?"
"I
am the man to get the job done, according to your employer."
With
a polite nod, he struck off down the corridor leading to the operations center
as if he'd known the way all along.
* * *
Dr.
Hammersmith's attention was divided, but he managed to catch the gist of what
Eyan relayed.
"He's
there already? Excellent. You just let him do his job, and we'll be able to put
all of this behind us in no time." He didn't bother to meet her gaze.
Eyan
stood at attention, alone in the conference room, and faced the wide screen on
the wall before her. From the vidLink's perspective—low on Hammersmith's desk,
intentionally placed there to make him look like an imposing figure—he appeared
incredibly busy, juggling two slates while he entered streaming data into his
desktop console.
"He
came aboard armed, sir. With a sword."
"As
well he should have. You might have a murderer on board, Eyan. It's only
prudent that this fellow come able to defend himself. You carry around one of
those shock prods, don't you?"
She'd
never had to use it. "Part of my uniform, sir."
"Then
consider that sword to be part of his. Eccentric maybe, but the world takes all
kinds, as you should know well enough." With a wink, he met her gaze long
enough to reach over and end the transmission.
Eyan
stared at her reflection as the screen faded to black. What sort of religion
would expect its priests to carry long blades across their backs? But of more
concern was the fact that Dr. Hammersmith didn't appear to see anything amiss
with the situation.
Eyan
lifted her prod from its holster, and the weapon snapped to life, crackling
with static energy as its forked prongs glowed in the dark.
* * *
Outside
the operations center, the situation in the corridor was already getting ugly.
"Open
up!" Franklin's eyes bulged
question." He faced her as he walked. "Your lifetime?"
"I
don't see that it's any of your business."
"A
single question. If we are to work together, we must know something about one
another."
His
non-confrontational demeanor coupled with such a rude request made a strange
juxtaposition—as if knowing her current lifetime would sum up her entire
existence for him.
"My
fifth—on Futuro."
"And
in all your time here, nothing like this has ever happened before?"
"Of
course not. I included that in my preliminary report."
Twenty
meters ahead, the corridor branched in two; one side led to the control team's
operations center where all six of them would be on duty at this hour, and the
other side led to the mess hall and conference room. Futuro 2 was small enough
that everyone knew how to get everywhere they needed within the first
twenty-four hours aboard. But unless Cade had managed to memorize a map of the
station's layout, he wouldn't know she was leading him to the vidLink with Dr.
Hammersmith, as scheduled, despite his request to meet the crew.
"How
long are the team's shifts?"
"Six
hours." The same as any workday on Earth—also in her report. "What's
your order?"
His
pace slowed, but he did not stop, his face an indecipherable mask.
"My
single question." She shrugged, nodding at his attire. "Not exactly
what I'd expect from a UW official."
"I
do not represent the United World government."
Of
course not. He was an impartial observer . "Last I heard, religions
on Earth had died out."
"Five
lifetimes ago, perhaps. But things have changed. There are new ways that harken
back to the beliefs of the ancients—when life was simpler."
"How
ancient is that?" She pointed to his scabbard, still uncomfortable with
him bringing such a thing onto her station.
His
thin lips curved upward slightly. "There has never been a death aboard a
Futuro station." He stopped where the corridor forked. He didn't know the
way, or he wouldn't have stood there waiting for her to lead onward.
"Until today."
Eyan
folded her arms, flexing her slim-but-sizeable biceps. "You're not a
bureaucrat, and you're not a priest. So who the hell are you?"
"I
am the man to get the job done, according to your employer."
With
a polite nod, he struck off down the corridor leading to the operations center
as if he'd known the way all along.
* * *
Dr.
Hammersmith's attention was divided, but he managed to catch the gist of what
Eyan relayed.
"He's
there already? Excellent. You just let him do his job, and we'll be able to put
all of this behind us in no time." He didn't bother to meet her gaze.
Eyan
stood at attention, alone in the conference room, and faced the wide screen on
the wall before her. From the vidLink's perspective—low on Hammersmith's desk,
intentionally placed there to make him look like an imposing figure—he appeared
incredibly busy, juggling two slates while he entered streaming data into his
desktop console.
"He
came aboard armed, sir. With a sword."
"As
well he should have. You might have a murderer on board, Eyan. It's only
prudent that this fellow come able to defend himself. You carry around one of
those shock prods, don't you?"
She'd
never had to use it. "Part of my uniform, sir."
"Then
consider that sword to be part of his. Eccentric maybe, but the world takes all
kinds, as you should know well enough." With a wink, he met her gaze long
enough to reach over and end the transmission.
Eyan
stared at her reflection as the screen faded to black. What sort of religion
would expect its priests to carry long blades across their backs? But of more
concern was the fact that Dr. Hammersmith didn't appear to see anything amiss
with the situation.
Eyan
lifted her prod from its holster, and the weapon snapped to life, crackling
with static energy as its forked prongs glowed in the dark.
* * *
Outside
the operations center, the situation in the corridor was already getting ugly.
"Open
up!" Franklin's eyes bulged
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