Young Rissa (27 page)

“Maybe — if we ever have time for it — maybe I will.”
 

“And I — “ But she could not say it aloud. She took her hand away.
 

“And you, what? Tari?”
 

Her violent headshake tumbled her hair. “No — not now, Tregare. I thought of something
I
must do, perhaps. But until I have done it, or failed — “ And why had she never attempted what she knew, in the cause of her own sexuality? Because until now, perhaps, she had not really wished to?
 

She forced a laugh. “It is hours short of dinner time, but I have not eaten since morning — and that seems very long ago. I do not want to leave here to dine, anyway, this day. Would you eat with me here, now, or wait and join the others?”
 

“Here and now's fine. You want me to call and order for us?”
 

“I would like that. But — “ She touched her swollen mouth. “ — remember, I cannot chew well. Get me soft foods, please.”
 

He nodded, then spoke over the intercom. Finished, he said, “Five minutes, maybe ten. All right, Tari?”
 

“Yes — that long, I can resist starvation.” She paused, frowning. “Tregare? As married persons, should we not know one another by our true names?”
 

“Huh? Oh, yeah — Hawkman mentioned you've been running on a switched ident.” He grinned. “That's why that photolock wouldn't open
 

— right? Plastic eyecaps? Funny — I never thought of it, at the time.” “You are right, Tregare; that is how it was.” She waited. He looked at her, then smiled. “You want me to ask, don't you? All right — I'm not married to Tari Obrigo. Who, then?”
 

“I am sorry it makes little difference to you. To me, it does. I am Rissa Kerguelen. Now, I suppose, we can talk about something else.”
 

His eyes widened; he looked away, at nothing, then back to her. “Sure!” He snapped his fingers. “I remember now — the kid that walked off with twenty million and left UET chasing its own tail. Hey — I was on Earth then, last time I risked that! — trying to promote a hijack, but it didn't work out. Anyway, I
saw
you, on the news!”
 

“You did?”
 

“Sure. Blank in the face, at first — bald-headed little dummy, I thought. And then — peace from a pump! — you reared up and told off the whole lot. I loved that! And when you disappeared, that was even better, because the Underground knew UET hadn't caught you.” He slapped a palm to one knee. Then his smile went away, and he said, “On the ship — I wish I'd known. I wouldn't have — ”
 

“Ease your mind, Tregare. You did me no damage.”
 

“Maybe not. But still — ”
 

“No. If you are in dire need of something to regret, I am sure we can find a more worthy subject.”
 

“But — well, all right — I — “ A knock interrupted him. He answered it, thanked someone and brought the service cart to her bedside. For a few minutes he was busy arranging food on a tray for her. “Soup all right? And fruit paste, and this meat pulped with lerta juice and sour tubers before baking. And some salt-tart pudding — “ She did not answer. He fell silent and looked at her. Then he said, “Does my order suit you? Does it — Rissa?”
 

She nodded. “Yes.”
 

“Real names — if they're important to you, mine is Bran.”
 

“Yes — Bran.”
 

“That's better. Let's eat.”
 

 

She ate slowly — even soup contains ingredients that need chewing — but with enjoyment, shifting the occasional bits of meat or vegetable back to her molars. He finished long before her and sat waiting, saying nothing. Finally she said, “I have had enough. Will you remove the tray, please?” He lifted it back to the cart. “Thank you, Bran.”
 

He made a half smile. “Don't work too hard at it; in a hurry, call me whatever comes to mind. For it's certain I'll do that sometimes; we can't change our thinking all at once.”
 

“Only in private is it important. In public we use our public names automatically; why should this between us be difficult?”
 

“I don't know — but it's different somehow, isn't it?”
 

She thought. “Yes, because publicly we use automatic defenses. By ourselves we must discard these or remain strangers. I am glad you have helped me see that difference.”
 

The intercom sounded; he answered on the hushset, then said, “It's Liesel. Wants to know if you're up to a family meeting tonight, or if tomorrow's better.”
 

“Tomorrow — if she will not mind the delay.”
 

He spoke again; then faintly she heard, “. . . tomorrow all right?” and he said, “Maybe breakfast, but I doubt it — midmorning, probably. Yes — good.” He cut the circuit and looked to her.
 

She nodded. “As you put it, is suitable.”
 

“Good. Say — you look tired, and no wonder. You want me out of here?”
 

“Not unless you wish to go. I am in invalid status, of course, but if you would like merely to
stay
with me, this bed is large, and your presence would comfort me.”
 

“Yes. All right. Maybe yours will comfort me, too.”
 

He leaned toward her. “Not on the lips, Bran — they pain me too much. The forehead, perhaps?”
 

“Your nose looks all right, to me.”
 

Then, “Yes — but when you made me laugh, then — my ribs — Bran, I am a ruin!”
 

“You need sleep. I'll darken the lights.”
 

“Yes.” But then she remembered. “There is something first,” and she told him what dal Nardo, panting as he strove to kill her, had said of UET — and of payment.
 

“A UET stringer, was he? I wonder how — but it doesn't matter. Before they can get here, I'll have — never mind, save that for later.” Then, after a moment's silence, Tregare said, “Harnain, eh? Not Kerguelen. Simple enough — I haven't entered the data into the computer network yet, but you'll recall how poor Harnain died in a faulty freeze-chamber, on
Inconnu
. That'll take care of anything dal Nardo has on file.”
 

“Yes, it should. Thank you, Bran — and good night.”
 

 

Rissa heard a noise and halfway woke. Seeing gray dimness at the window, she lay back and dozed again. Later she woke fully, alone in a room filled with daylight. Tentatively she stretched, and felt much soreness but little harsh pain. She lay relaxed, staring at the ceiling but not seeing it.
 

With no warning knock the door opened; Tregare carried a covered bed-tray. “Good. I thought you'd be awake by now. Here's breakfast.” She smiled and thanked him. He said, “And I've done some computer-diddling. Didn't have to use the fake death — Liesel gave me some access-codes, and I've nulled Harnain out of this planet's network.”
 

“Written notes, Bran? Dal Nardo may have had those.”
 

“May have, sure. No more, though — not in his dossier file, anyway. On account of it's melted down to slag.”
 

“What is this you say?”
 

“Lebeter don't mind a little night work, and he's good with thermite.”
 

“I — I see.” Tregare made to lift the food tray's lid but Rissa said, sitting up, “Leave it covered, please, to keep hot until I am back.” She stood and went into the bathroom. A few minutes later, she returned. “Now, then — I am ready to breakfast with you. And with thanks for all you have done for me.”
 

“Sure.” He nodded. “How's the eye this morning?”
 

“Better than it appears. I can see with it quite well.”
 

He arranged the tray for her convenience. “I already ate downstairs, but I brought myself an extra coffee cup.”
 

“Did I miss a vital conference?” And looking at the one bowl sitting between containers of juice and coffee, “What is this?”
 

“Conference? You'll hear it all later. That in the bowl — it's eggs and porridge.”
 

“Eggs
and
porridge? It looks as though a baby might have eaten it once already.”
 

He laughed. “Taste it first — then complain if you like. It's your tender teeth I was looking out for.”
 

From the tip of her spoon she took a wary taste, then nodded. “You are right — despite its appearance, it
is
good. From what is the porridge made?”
 

“Upland grain, I'm told — from Liesel's holdings across the Big Hills, quite a way south of here. She says there's been a mutation that improved the flavor; she's waiting to see if it breeds true on a commercial scale. Could be a profitable delicacy for the gourmet trade.”
 

“Yes.” Until she finished eating she said no more. Then; “Tell me what was said at your breakfast.”
 

“No.” He shook his head. “I said, you'll hear it. Once is plenty.” He refilled her cup and his own.
 

“Is something wrong?”
 

“No. Repetition bores the ears off me — that's all.”
 

She shrugged. “Of course — it is only that I was curious, but I will wait. Well, then — Tregare, there are questions I must ask.”
 

His brows raised. “Tregare, is it, this morning?”
 

“For these questions, yes.”
 

“Then fire away.”
 

“Tregare — I
want
to accept you. But some things I cannot accept.”
 

“Like what? Peace take you, stop orbiting a dead rock and say what you mean!”
 

“On
Inconnu
there was the girl Chira. Where is she now? She — ”
 

“Jealous, are you? Climb off it, Tari — Rissa, I mean. I've had others before, and so have you — and we will again, both of us, or I miss my sighting by a lot. What kind of smoke cloud you throwing, anyway?”
 

“None — as you would know by now, if you would stop interrupting. I am not jealous of Chira past, present or future — I am concerned for her, and for others.”
 

“Others? Who? And
how
are you concerned?”
 

“For the women on
Inconnu
, who were called property — and for Chira, that she might become one of them. Tregare — I do not condone slavery, of any kind. Under the guise of Total Welfare I have
been
a slave. I — ”
 

He laughed, and she saw his relief was real. “Oh — for the love of peace! All right — I admit I used that property thing to throw a fright into Chira when she needed one. She's a barbarian — literally — I picked her up on a backslid colony planet and her tribe was the
outcasts
of the whole sorry lot.”
 

“Then why did you want her?”
 

“I bought her, if you have to know — for a packet of drug-sticks and a rusty knife — because she was next up for sacrifice to their tribal god, who seemed to be a pretty nasty bastard as such things go. So I washed her up and moved her in with me, since she didn't fit anywhere else on the ship — and one thing and another led to where you might expect. But she's a gutsy wench — threw tantrums for any reason or none — destructive as hell. I needed something to keep her in line.”
 

“Then the — property thing — it was all fiction?”
 

“No — not all.” He frowned and gestured to her. “Wait a minute — to make sense to you, I'll have to go back a little.”
 

She sipped cool coffee. “Go back as far as you like.”
 

“All right. I was groundside — it doesn't matter where — when a UET ship landed, and I got to drinking with its captain. Hoped to find a way to take the ship, but I didn't have enough men and weapons to do it. And his ship was unarmed, so he couldn't do anything about
me
, so we had a truce. Well, the man talked, and I got another idea.”
 

“As yet there are no women in this story.”
 

“Sure there are — nearly fifty of them, on that ship as cargo. And they
were
property — UET's. Female Welfare clients, consigned to a UET mining world that's twelve men to every woman — to be sold there and kept in cribs to service the miners. Like you said — slaves.”
 

“And
your
idea, Tregare?”
 

“You're calling me that to needle me, right? Well, never mind, for now. All right — I bought those women, traded for them, while that skipper was drunk. Now, before you holler — some of the Hidden Worlds are short of women, too, and they'll pay — but for
free
women, no slavery.” He paused. “Well, there was for a while, on one planet. But the
Buona-tierra
landed there and killed a few people that needed it, and the rest changed their ways.”
 

“This is more than I need to know about places that do not concern us. What of the women on
Inconnu
?”