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Read Online [Wildcards 10] - Double Solitaire by George R. R. Martin - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: George R. R. Martin
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club. Dialed the junkyard.
Tachyon was resting in a recliner, a pillow supporting the small of her back, feet up to relieve the swelling in her ankles. The pressure of two pairs of eyes finally penetrated her darting, whirling thoughts. She looked up, meeting Tom Tudbury's concerned look, and Mark Meadows's thoughtful gaze.
"What?" she asked.
"It's, like, really weird watching you, man. At times you've got this faraway peaceful look like you're telling the world, 'I'm pregnant, so you and your problems can just go piss off.' And other times I look in your eyes, and it's pure Tachyon."
She stared at the lanky human. His six-foot-four-inch frame was too long for the sofa, so his remarkably big feet hung over the end of the couch like moving crates that had suddenly taken a mind to wearing tennis shoes. Ragged ends of hair just brushed the back of his collar. Once it had hung below his shoulders.
Tach sighed and let go of the past. "Ideal, I'm losing my self."
"Much of what we are is defined by our biology," Mark reminded her.
"How depressing." She sat silent for a moment, then asked, "I'm curious -- how did you know to rescue me?"
"They, like, read in Taos, New Mexico, too. I'd joined a commune --"
"There still are some?" It was the first thing Tommy had said in hours.
"Yeah, a couple. Anyway, we went into town for groceries, and I saw the headline on Aces . So I came."
A strange expression twisted Tommy's face, regret and guilt. Because he didn't come for me? Tach wondered. Aloud she said, "You shouldn't be here, Mark. It's too dangerous."
"Don't worry. I've gotten pretty good at this. I know how to buy fake ID. I can spot tails... well, most times," he amended, and the pale blue eyes blinked rapidly behind the thick lenses of his glasses. It was a brief glimpse of the man he had been.
"I miss my sweet Mark. My innocent one," said Tach softly.
"Mr. Bush's meaner and crueler attitude toward wild cards sent him away," Mark said in a feeble attempt at a joke.
It was a bizarre set of events which had turned the former flower child into a fugitive from federal justice. Mark's ex-wife had returned after years of absence and demanded custody of the couple's retarded daughter, Sprout. Kimberly based her case on Cap'n Trips's unfitness as a parent because he was a wild card. The court agreed but didn't find the former Mrs. Meadows too tightly wrapped either. They removed Sprout to the care of New York's foster services. Mark objected strenuously to this and, enlisting the aid of his "friends," broke his child out of the juvie home. That made him a criminal. It was a mad world, Tachyon decided.
"Anyway, I'm here, Tachy, and I want to help. So tell me what you need," Mark concluded.
She laughed. "Blood and Ancestors, where to start. She sobered.
"Go on," Tom prodded her out of her abstracted silence.
"I haven't been home in almost fifty years, and I'm coming home at a distinct disadvantage. I don't have my powers. I have to prove who I am, reclaim my place, and then I can start worrying about locating Blaise and my body. And how do I force Blaise to make the switch? And what if he kills my body to stop me? What if he's already killed my body?"
"First answer me a question," Tom said. "Why do you believe Blaise is on Takis?"
"Because of the company he took. My ship, my body... and Durg."
A slap couldn't have hit Mark harder. His fingers scrabbled at the back of the sofa, and he came bolt upright.
"Durg. I left him standin' on the side of the road. K.C. was dead, Blaise was on our trail, and about half a thousand cops right behind him. I didn't want Durg in trouble with the law. I was trying to protect him."
"Leaving him was the worst thing you could have done. He's Morakh. They're bred for only two purposes -- killing and loyal service. A Morakh cannot exist without a master." She sighed.
A delicate shivering was running through Mark's hands. "So I caused this."
Tach stood, crossed to him, and closed her
Tachyon was resting in a recliner, a pillow supporting the small of her back, feet up to relieve the swelling in her ankles. The pressure of two pairs of eyes finally penetrated her darting, whirling thoughts. She looked up, meeting Tom Tudbury's concerned look, and Mark Meadows's thoughtful gaze.
"What?" she asked.
"It's, like, really weird watching you, man. At times you've got this faraway peaceful look like you're telling the world, 'I'm pregnant, so you and your problems can just go piss off.' And other times I look in your eyes, and it's pure Tachyon."
She stared at the lanky human. His six-foot-four-inch frame was too long for the sofa, so his remarkably big feet hung over the end of the couch like moving crates that had suddenly taken a mind to wearing tennis shoes. Ragged ends of hair just brushed the back of his collar. Once it had hung below his shoulders.
Tach sighed and let go of the past. "Ideal, I'm losing my self."
"Much of what we are is defined by our biology," Mark reminded her.
"How depressing." She sat silent for a moment, then asked, "I'm curious -- how did you know to rescue me?"
"They, like, read in Taos, New Mexico, too. I'd joined a commune --"
"There still are some?" It was the first thing Tommy had said in hours.
"Yeah, a couple. Anyway, we went into town for groceries, and I saw the headline on Aces . So I came."
A strange expression twisted Tommy's face, regret and guilt. Because he didn't come for me? Tach wondered. Aloud she said, "You shouldn't be here, Mark. It's too dangerous."
"Don't worry. I've gotten pretty good at this. I know how to buy fake ID. I can spot tails... well, most times," he amended, and the pale blue eyes blinked rapidly behind the thick lenses of his glasses. It was a brief glimpse of the man he had been.
"I miss my sweet Mark. My innocent one," said Tach softly.
"Mr. Bush's meaner and crueler attitude toward wild cards sent him away," Mark said in a feeble attempt at a joke.
It was a bizarre set of events which had turned the former flower child into a fugitive from federal justice. Mark's ex-wife had returned after years of absence and demanded custody of the couple's retarded daughter, Sprout. Kimberly based her case on Cap'n Trips's unfitness as a parent because he was a wild card. The court agreed but didn't find the former Mrs. Meadows too tightly wrapped either. They removed Sprout to the care of New York's foster services. Mark objected strenuously to this and, enlisting the aid of his "friends," broke his child out of the juvie home. That made him a criminal. It was a mad world, Tachyon decided.
"Anyway, I'm here, Tachy, and I want to help. So tell me what you need," Mark concluded.
She laughed. "Blood and Ancestors, where to start. She sobered.
"Go on," Tom prodded her out of her abstracted silence.
"I haven't been home in almost fifty years, and I'm coming home at a distinct disadvantage. I don't have my powers. I have to prove who I am, reclaim my place, and then I can start worrying about locating Blaise and my body. And how do I force Blaise to make the switch? And what if he kills my body to stop me? What if he's already killed my body?"
"First answer me a question," Tom said. "Why do you believe Blaise is on Takis?"
"Because of the company he took. My ship, my body... and Durg."
A slap couldn't have hit Mark harder. His fingers scrabbled at the back of the sofa, and he came bolt upright.
"Durg. I left him standin' on the side of the road. K.C. was dead, Blaise was on our trail, and about half a thousand cops right behind him. I didn't want Durg in trouble with the law. I was trying to protect him."
"Leaving him was the worst thing you could have done. He's Morakh. They're bred for only two purposes -- killing and loyal service. A Morakh cannot exist without a master." She sighed.
A delicate shivering was running through Mark's hands. "So I caused this."
Tach stood, crossed to him, and closed her
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