Blood Will Tell (17 page)

“I can go from here,” Miala said at last. “Thanks for coming with me this far.”

Thorn gave her the familiar narrow look from under his dark brows, and shook his head. “I’ll see you over to the boarding area.”

She knew there was no point in arguing with him, and so she merely lifted her shoulders and walked into the spaceport, pausing briefly to study the glowing holographic map just inside the door. The ERS lounge was at the far end of the spaceport—
naturally
, she thought wryly—and it appeared the moving walkways were still broken. At least she had had the sense to wear flat shoes.

The corridors of the spaceport were considerably more crowded than they had been when she and Eryk Thorn first arrived on Callia. Tourism seemed to be picking back up, for which she was glad. The local economy had been in a freefall since the series of tidal waves that had obliterated most of the coastline. Of course, as Thorn had dryly pointed out after she returned from yet another shopping expedition, that didn’t mean Miala had to single-handedly shoulder the responsibility of reviving it.

As they walked, neither speaking, she wondered what stubbornness or final sense of duty led him to come with her. She knew better than to hope for a final impassioned outburst.
He probably just wants to make sure I really do get on the ship
, she thought.
I’ve complicated his life enough as it is. If he only knew just how much more complicated I could have made it….

The ERS lounge held a few travelers, mainly humans. It had survived most of the damage that had touched the rest of the spaceport. Dull gold hangings softened the huge windows, and alien flowers bloomed in tastefully grouped planters.

Thorn paused only a few steps into the lounge area, far enough away from the other travelers so he and Miala wouldn’t attract any attention. At least, she assumed that was his intention, although she reflected that spaceport lounges such as this one had probably been the stage for countless teary goodbyes and other not quite socially acceptable scenes.

At least her eyes were dry—for now. She glanced up at Thorn, and tried to look at him with the eyes of a stranger. Then he became just another swarthy, stony-faced man of slightly greater than average height, with nothing in particular to recommend him.

I can do this
.
If nothing else, Thorn has certainly taught me a good poker face.

If her own lack of expression discomfited him, he didn’t show it. “So you’re sure you have everything set?”

She nodded. “The housing agent at school already has an apartment secured for me. I’ll get the rest of what I need once I arrive on Nova Angeles.”

Was it her imagination, or was he beginning to a look a little uncomfortable? He frowned slightly, and she stifled a sudden absurd impulse to laugh. Who would have thought that the galaxy’s greatest mercenary would be laid low by a simple goodbye at a spaceport?

“It’s been fun, Thorn,” she said, making sure her voice sounded brittle and light. “I’d promise to write, but since I have no idea where you’ll even be—”

“Miala.” His voice was quiet, but something about his tone quelled her, stopped the flow of deliberately sarcastic words. “You know I’ll always be able to find you.”

“Right,” she replied. “How could I forget? The great Eryk Thorn always gets his man.”

He didn’t bother to correct her with any nonsense about a Captain Marr.

“The question is,” she continued, forcing a twisted smile to her lips, “whether you’ll want to find me.”

“Do you undervalue yourself that much?”

“Why not?” From the speaker system she heard the announcement for her flight. It had an odd, tinny quality, as if she were hearing it with ears not her own. Then, knowing a good exit line when she heard one, she added, “You did.”

And with that final shot she turned away from him and forced herself to follow the other passengers down the corridor that led to the ship. Even as she did so, she wondered whether he would try to stop her.

Of course, he did not.

Her passage was for first class, naturally. Since Miala’s only experience of space flight had been her trip to Callia in the
Fury
, she was pleasantly surprised by the luxury that greeted her as she entered the main compartment. No cramped grav seats here; the first-class lounge looked more like the lobby bar of the Eridani Majesty than the interior of a spaceship, and her sleeping quarters, although small, had been designed with every convenience in mind.

The handler mechs had done their jobs. Her luggage was already there, stowed under the bed and in the small wardrobe. A comfortable chair stood near the small square viewport, and she sat down on the well-padded seat to watch her departure from Callia.

In a gentle, majestic movement, the liner lifted straight up from the landing pad. Miala watched the ground slowly recede until all of Chistan Major lay spread out below her. Immediately ahead of her the sea glinted blue and green, glowing one last time in her vision before the ship moved up through the cloud layer. Then the curve of the planet transformed into a disk, even as the luxury liner turned away from Callia and pointed toward the black of deep space.

The shift into subspace was barely perceptible on a ship of this size. But Miala watched the starfield distort into streaks of pale fire and realized she was already on her way to Nova Angeles. Suddenly she felt very tired.

So he was gone. She realized she had never even said goodbye.

Everybody leaves
, she thought. One by one, they had all abandoned her in their way. Her mother. Her father. Why had she thought Eryk Thorn would be any different?

The hurt came then, a deep cramping ache that felt like the accumulation of every unshed tear she had ever held back, every word of love she had never spoken to him. Suddenly it seemed as if she were being suffocated, and she pulled in a deep gasping breath. At last the tears followed, and she leaned her head against the viewport and wept. She wept not because she expected any comfort from it, but because she knew if she held the tears in any longer, she would surely die.

Time passed, and gradually her sobbing eased. She raised her aching eyes to the viewport and watched the subspace-distorted heavens streak by. His absence from the pretty little stateroom felt like a gaping hole in the fabric of her universe, but she knew no amount of tears would change that.

Her mouth was dry, filled with the taste of dust and ashes, like the dryness of an Iradian summer. She stood and went to the little refrigeration unit. It, too, had been stocked with all manner of conveniences, and she pulled out a small pouch of mineral water.

The water revived her somewhat, but it did little to dispel the bitterness she could still taste. It came from somewhere deep inside her, and no amount of water could change that.

Everybody leaves
, she thought again, and she brought her hand to rest against the still flat contours of her abdomen.
But I won’t. I’ll always be here for you, little one.

Thorn might be gone, but she had this one last legacy from him, something he could never take away from her. Something to remember him by.

Where Thorn was now, she had no idea. Away from Callia already, no doubt. Quite possibly he went straight to his own ship after she was safely gone. There would always be the next job, the next score. It was what drove him, and she knew she could no more change that than change the color of his eyes.

You may think you’re alone in the galaxy
, she thought.
But there will always be this other part of you, this one good that came from my love for you.

She wished she could stop loving him. It would be easier that way. The best she could hope to do was transfer that love to his child—and hope that, one day, it would be enough.

PART TWO

Nova Angeles

XIII

The deserts of Iradia swirled past the viewport, gold and ochre and mottled brown. They did not seem to have changed much over the past eight years.

Miala shifted in her seat and frowned.
After all the times I swore I would never come back here
, she thought, then turned away from the window and began to busy herself with gathering up her belongings—her computer tablet, a half-drunk pouch of water—and placing them in the sleek leather satchel that was the only piece of luggage she had brought with her into the passenger compartment. The rest of her clothing and other personal effects were still safely stowed in the small cabin that had been her home for the past two days.

“Mistress Felaris?”

She looked up to see Master Dizhan, the Eridani who had hired her, hovering near the door to the passenger compartment. Besides herself, the only occupants were a pair of slightly shabby humans. The man and woman were dressed in the same rumpled, loose-fitting clothing that Miala herself had grown up wearing. Now, however, in her tailored synth-linen suit and tight brown boots, she looked no more like them than a Bathshevan water dancer did a cowherd.

At least no one would ever guess that this was my home world
, she thought.

She’d given herself the last name of “Felaris” when she settled on Nova Angeles, hoping to leave shabby little Miala Fels and her past far behind. Most of her friends there called her Mia as well; she’d taken her father’s pet name for her and given that to everyone she met on Nova Angeles. In her mind, however, she was still Miala and always would be.

“The captain informs me that we are about to land,” Master Dizhan went on. “A transport is already waiting to take us to Mungar’s home.”

“Thank you, Master Dizhan,” she replied, then stood. “I’ll go and ready the rest of my things.”

He nodded, then stepped aside to allow her to move past him and down the corridor toward her cabin, one of only eight the small passenger liner contained. These days she was used to flying in much higher style, but Iradia was far enough off the beaten path that the first-class passenger ships generally did not travel there.

As she tidied up the cabin and set her two suitcases near the doorway for the handler mechs, she wondered again at herself. So much for resolutions. Then again, even Felaris Security Systems didn’t get a 1.5-million-unit contract every day.

At first she had refused. But that was before she had known what they were offering...

“I’m afraid I’m not interested.” Miala had pushed the pale blue sheet of synth-paper and its accompanying credit voucher toward the lavender-skinned Eridani who faced her. “This really doesn’t sound like the sort of project that requires the services of FSS.”

The alien man blinked his dark blue eyes. “Mistress Felaris, it is imperative that my employer secure the services of a reputable security agency. Your company’s reputation has spread far beyond this sector, all the way to Iradia. He insists that no one else will do.”

Iradia, of all places. Just the mention of the planet that had been her home for the first twenty years of her life brought a dry, bitter taste to her mouth. She’d vowed when she left that she would never return, and this unappealing offer certainly wasn’t enough to make her change her mind.

Still, she’d felt a little sorry for the poor man who had come all this way on a fruitless errand. She said, “My apologies, Master Dizhan, but I’m afraid you’ve made a long journey for nothing. I’m sure that you can find someone a little closer to home to take on your project.”

The Eridani’s face remained expressionless—at least, the alien male revealed no visible emotion. “I’ve been authorized to bid up to 1.5 million units, if that is what it requires.”

One point five million?
she thought. That put a different spin on things entirely. Why anyone would think a standard software security installation required that sort of cash outlay boggled her for a second. If she’d learned anything over the past few years, however, it was never to underestimate the lower limits of human or alien intelligence. If the Eridani’s mysterious employer really felt it necessary to pay her almost double what the job required, far be it from her to dissuade him.

She’d allowed herself a small smile, and extended a manicured hand to the alien. “Master Dizhan, I believe we have a deal.”

The Eridani took her hand briefly, then inquired, “And how soon will you be able to fulfill the contract?”

“Some space appears to have just opened up on my schedule,” she replied. “Within a standard week, if not sooner. As soon as I have everything set here, I’ll be en route.”

He nodded. “Excellent.”

Mia pushed a button on her intercom, opening a direct line to her assistant. “Risa, Master Dizhan is ready to sign a contract. Standard security setup, expedited fulfillment. I’ll be on this one right away.”

“Of course, Mia,” came her assistant’s reply, with the slightest lift of a question at the end. Normally things didn’t move quite that quickly around Felaris Security Services.

Dizhan bowed his head once more, and rose as he saw her assistant appear at the door. Risa ushered him out with practiced ease, leaving Miala alone in her office.

Once she had committed herself to the project, she experienced a slight twinge of unease. She had gone away on business trips before, but never so far—merely to New Chicago, Nova Angeles’ neighboring planet, and then only for a few days. This trip to Iradia would require at least ten standard days. Then again, her son Jerem was almost eight now. Perhaps it was time to be a little less protective of the boy.

But Iradia—she closed her eyes for a moment, recalling the heat and the dust, the odd smell of baked rock and gritty sand. Were even a million and a half credits worth it? Felaris Security Systems had thrived over the mere four years of its existence, and she already had a waiting list of clients. Of course, she’d had plenty of seed money to get the business started—her half of the units she and Eryk Thorn had taken from the unguarded treasure chambers of Mast’s compound.

Mia shook her head. No need to start thinking of that now...thinking of
him
. He was gone, buried in the past, as had been the name with which she was born. No one here on Nova Angeles knew that her last name had once been Fels, or that the long-absent father of her son was none other than the notorious Eryk Thorn.