Earthrise (Her Instruments Book 1) (29 page)

It was no use not thinking about what had happened. Her mother had disinherited her... disinherited. Reese rubbed her forehead. A pretty word she’d lifted from books about princesses and royalty. What little she would have inherited from the Eddings family had already gone into buying the
Earthrise
. What more did she have to look forward to? A catalog featuring photos of smiling men with their vital statistics listed alongside? A mail-order daughter? A life without testosterone? Not that men weren’t annoying, but things started to feel lopsided without them. Reese flicked to the cover of the latest novel and stared at the Tam-illee girl swooning in the arms of the Eldritch prince.

No, she still had a home: the
Earthrise
. Even if she could never come back to Mars, she had a place to go back to. She’d never really planned to come here, settle down and have a fatherless baby... had she?

Maybe she’d merely never planned that far ahead.

Reese spent several hours sitting in front of the lockers, trying to sort it out and failing.

“Hey, boss... how’d it go?”

“Sascha, do you have the ticket for our baggage claim?” Hirianthial interrupted. “I can’t seem to find it.”

“I thought you—no, wait.” Sascha checked his vest and pant pockets, came up with a plastic chip. “I have the ticket after all. I’ll be right back.”

Reese watched Sascha disappear into the building, then squinted at Hirianthial. “You sent him away.”

“You needed a moment to compose yourself,” the Eldritch said, stopping in front of her.

She stared at his square-tipped boots. “I don’t need you reading my mind—”

“Lady,” Hirianthial said, “I don’t need to read your mind when your body fair screams your dejection.”

Reese straightened, squared her shoulders. “I don’t look dejected.”

He simply looked at her. It was one of his most disarming, infuriating habits: actually looking at people, instead of glossing over them. She grew more and more uncomfortable until the absurdity of the situation stuck her. Her family had kicked her out for good and she was worrying about having an Eldritch stare her down. Reese managed a weak laugh. “Okay, I am dejected—woah!”

Hirianthial kneeled in front of her—not quite kneeling, but one knee down and the other up. It put his face on eye level. He looked comfortable there, posing like a knight for a book cover... except in the book covers, the fragile Eldritch princes had always looked effeminate. Reese reflected on how badly they’d messed that up. Long hair and long bones alone did not feminize a man. The fussy lace cuffs, the camellias on the tunic, the blood-sparkle ring on his finger, none of it mattered. It was all in the carriage.

“It will pass,” he said.

“I... I guess I know that,” Reese said, looking away. The silence that fell was so comfortable she couldn’t stand it. Without deciding to, she glanced at him and asked, “Do you have a home?”

“My lady?” He looked as startled as he ever did.

“A home,” Reese said. “Like the
Earthrise
is mine.”

“I hadn’t really given the matter much thought,” he said.

“Isn’t it a hard thing not to know?” Reese asked, and was rewarded by his eyes... closing. She wasn’t sure how he did it, but their warmth drained away. The result wasn’t hostile, like her mother’s blue stare, just distant. Formal. She hurried on. “Because everyone should have one.”

“Of course,” he said.

“Look, I want to give you an employment contract. Instead of you just... you know. Hanging around until you get bored or I get frustrated.”

This time she expected the stillness. She’d hit a nerve. Maybe. “You don’t have to take it. But everyone else in the crew’s got one and you deserve one too. If you want one.”

The warmth returned to his gaze, as slowly as a spring replenishing. For once his smile was neither cautious nor tired, merely small. He never seemed to do anything large or loud; it made Reese wonder how he bore her. “I would be honored.”

“Yeah, okay. Then get up, all right? Last thing we need is Sascha coming in on you like this and getting all sorts of ideas—”

“What sorts of ideas?” Sascha asked, dragging their bags behind him as Hirianthial stood.

“The wrong ones,” Reese said. Hirianthial brushed the dust from his pants.

“Curse it all!” Sascha said, shaking a fist at the ceiling. “Why do I always miss all the juicy bits?”

“Oh, hush,” Reese said. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Aye aye, ma’am.”

“I’d like to meet your boss,” Reese said.

The man on the other side of the screen grinned. “You’ve decided to take the job?”

“If no one else has taken it yet, sure,” Reese said. “The climate here doesn’t agree with me.”

The man guffawed. “Yeah. Harat-Sharii: you either like it or you don’t. I’m zapping you a contract. You sign it, I’ll connect you with the boss and he’ll explain what you need to do.”

“All right,” Reese said.

Her mail chirped a moment later, and Reese spread the contract. Excepting the clauses about the acceptable delivery of cargo, it didn’t resemble anything she’d ever signed before. Granted, she hadn’t signed many contracts in her life; most of the time she bought up what looked cheap but profitable and tried to sell it elsewhere. This document had clauses about whether she could talk about what they were doing, whether she could question what she was asked to do, who she was allowed to contact after signing it for more details... it even included encryption keys for later information drops. Reese groped for her glass of water and read. And read.

After half an hour she decided the document sounded like the work of a paranoid merchant but not a pirate, so she signed it and sent it back.

Within minutes, the man reappeared. “I’ll build the call for you.”

“Thanks,” Reese said.

The screen blanked for a sector map with a connection status bar; some kind of encryption protocol, but Reese didn’t recognize it. The Riggins scheme dominated the high-security real-time transmission market. No one with any money or power used anything else. Reese suspected that most of the successes claimed by the lesser schemes were the result of no one being interested enough in the contents of their calls to intercept them. Which, in itself, was a form of security.

The man now facing her was human, corpulent with sallow skin and dark eyes rimmed in a webbing of flesh and shadows. Reese disliked him on sight.

“Captain Eddings,” he said in a thin tenor. “So glad to have you on board. Now that we have your signature, please proceed to Sector Tau, to the solar system designated in the file I’m sending you now. Once you’ve arrived, you’ll go to the planet there to fetch no less than two hundred pounds of crystals and no more than two hundred twenty. Use the instructions in the file to properly remove and store the crystals, then send a call to inform us that you have completed the objective. We will transmit a location for your drop-off. Is that clear?”

Startled by the recitation, Reese said, “Fairly.”

“If you have questions, you may use the contact address specified in the contract.”

“I won’t be able to lift off immediately,” Reese said. “I have repairs to finish on Harat-Sharii.”

“We don’t care when you leave so long as you deliver the crystals within the contract window.”

“Right,” Reese said. “Who am I talking to?”

“Pardon?”

“Your name,” Reese said. “In case I need to talk to you again.”

“Your contract is with Surapinet Industries,” the man said. “That should be sufficient. We look forward to seeing you within three months.”

Before Reese could object, the screen blanked and her mail chirped again. She grumbled as she flipped to the box and spread the message: a bank statement. A bank statement now much, much larger than she anticipated. She stared at it for several minutes, trying to grasp it, then shook herself out of her trance.

“Nothing talks like money,” Reese muttered, and placed a call to the repair shop on Harat-Sharii. By the time the shuttle brought them back to the crew she’d have good news for them.

Returning to Harat-Sharii did not disturb Hirianthial’s re-won equilibrium until Zhemala found him in his borrowed chamber.

“Would you mind seeing me in the Moon Patio? I’d like to discuss a possible single-service contract with you and Captain Eddings.”

“Of course,” Hirianthial said, when what he wanted to do was to send her away. Still, it was not his to do, so he found his way to the Moon Patio and set himself on a stool to wait. Slaves brought meat-and-cheese rolls and milk; not long after, Zhemala appeared with Reese.

“Have a seat,” the Harat-Shar said.

Reese sat on the bench, her aura a suspicious green.

“A drink?” Zhemala asked, pouring herself a cup.

“What is it?” Reese asked.

“Milk,” Zhemala said. “A morning drink.”

Reese eyed the spiraled rolls. “And you usually eat this heavily for breakfast?”

She laughed, showing off pointed eyeteeth. “We are part carnivore. And we work hard. We need the food. Now you,” she said, turning to Hirianthial. “There’s a loose end here that we’d appreciate you tying.”

“What do you mean?” Reese interrupted. When Zhemala glanced at her, she said, “I’m in charge, right? So I’m asking the question. What loose end?”

Zhemala stroked the top of her nose, wrinkling the fabric of her veil. “I asked your doctor to look over a pregnant co-wife.”

“And she miscarried. I heard the story,” Reese said, and the sudden spikes of scarlet anger leaping from her aura made her scowl seem mild in comparison. “You’re not pinning that on him, are you?”

“Should I?” Zhemala asked.

“You only hired him for three hours a day!” Reese exclaimed.

“He could have prevented it,” Zhemala replied.

“He may be as arrogant as a god but he doesn’t have magical powers,” Reese said acerbically. “If he’s not there, he can’t help.”

“A good doctor would have seen the signs,” Zhemala said.

Reese turned to him, and through his numbness he wondered at the indignant prickles that traveled her aura. Why was she defending him? His negligence was indefensible.

“Well?” Reese asked. “Were there signs you could have seen a day in advance?”

“Often,” Hirianthial replied.

Reese’s eyes narrowed. “How often? And what kind of signs?”

“Often enough,” Hirianthial said. “Bleeding accompanied by cramping and pain. A cervical examination would have demonstrated whether a miscarriage was pending.”

“So either it happened very suddenly, someone forgot to inform you about all these symptoms... or there were other factors,” Reese said, aura flattening. She looked at Zhemala. “You wouldn’t happen to know about other factors, would you?”

Zhemala’s ears pressed against her head. “I assure you I have no idea what you’re talking about, Captain... but your point is taken. You would agree that the situation is irregular?”

“Only if you agree that a doctor on call for only three hours out of a day can’t perform miracles if no one tells him there’s something wrong,” Reese said.

Zhemala turned her cup. “I suppose we might agree.”

Reese folded her arms. “Fine. Now tell me why you called us here.”

“We’d like your doctor to perform an operation for us.”

“What kind of operation?” Reese asked.

Zhemala glanced at Hirianthial, her eyes sly. “We’d like him to sterilize Salaena.”

Hirianthial’s hands began to tremble. He clasped them tightly in his lap. “My oath does not allow me to perform permanent operations on individuals without their consent.”

She laughed. “You’ve absorbed the culture well, if you’ve assumed that I made the decision for her. You’d even be right. But I’m not the only one who wants it to be done. Salaena wants it as well. Miscarrying the baby has only convinced her that she’ll die if she has another. Everyone will be happier if you ensure that for us.”

“I don’t have a specialization in gynecology,” Hirianthial said.

Zhemala nodded. “Nicely said. Quite true. But a dodge. You do have a specialization in surgery which would be more than adequate for the task. We’re not asking you to do something difficult. A few twitches with a medical laser and you’ll take care of a very difficult situation for us. We’ll pay you well for the service.”

“I am not moved by money,” Hirianthial said.

“Then be moved by pity,” Zhemala said, exasperation tingeing her aura orange. “Salaena needs your help.”

“No,” Reese said.

They both looked at her.

“It’s my decision to make, right? I’m the only one who can release him to employment in town. Well, I’m making the decision. He’s not going to do it.”

Zhemala paused. “Captain—”

“I’m sorry,” Reese said. “That was a little abrupt. It’s just that I have too much for him to do before we leave. I can’t spare him.”

The Harat-Shar looked at Hirianthial again, eyes half-lidded, with an expression of such cloying sweetness he didn’t need to read the steel-gray resolve around her to feel its falsehood. “That’s too bad. I thought you’d like the opportunity to make up for what happened.”

Hirianthial stared at her.

“You would, wouldn’t you? You feel responsible. Salaena would be glad of your help. It would answer nicely for you not being there for her in her need.”

“
That’s enough
.”

Hirianthial hadn’t heard that tone from Reese... ever. Her aura had expanded to twice its size and blazed fire as she stood. “Zhemala, the answer is no. And if you’re looking to pin the blame on someone, choose someone else. But don’t you go sticking it on my crew because it’s more convenient to point fingers at someone who’ll be gone in a few weeks.”

The Harat-Shar’s ears slicked back. “You can’t blame me for trying, Captain.”

Reese’s halo sizzled. “I most certainly can. Hirianthial, we’re leaving.”

Struggling with ambivalence and guilt, he followed her into the hall and all the way to her chamber. There she turned, still seething.

“Did you unpack?”

“Lady?” Hirianthial asked, distracted by the roil of her aura.

“From our trip to Mars. Is there anything in your chambers that belongs to you.”

“A few things, yes,” he said.

“Go pack them and meet me at the cafe when you’re done. We’ll bunk at an overnight house until they’re done with the
Earthrise
.”

“Lady?” Hirianthial asked.

“You think I’m leaving you here? You’re crazy. I’m not staying either. This might be a fine place for the twins and maybe Bryer and Kis’eh’t are just too unflappable for it to get to them, but we’re not staying here a minute longer than we have to. Get moving.”

“Irine and Sascha will be disappointed,” Hirianthial said.

“Then they can yell at me when I arrange the crew meeting later today,” Reese said. “They’re going to anyway when they find out we’re leaving.”

He said softly, “She was right.”

Reese squinted at him. “About what part?”

“About being there. I should have been there.”

Reese growled. “If she’d wanted you there twenty-four hours a day she should have hired you for them. I’m not going to let her blame you for not being precognitive. Unless that’s a secret ability you haven’t let me in on.”

He looked away.

“Damn it all, Hirianthial. Could you have known? Under the circumstances?”

“No,” he said after a moment, voice hoarse. “Up until I left her, there were no signs.”

“And no one called you to tell you she’d started cramping and bleeding?”

He shook his head, his hair barely brushing his jaw with the motion.

“So how the bleeding soil is this your fault?” She waved a hand. “Don’t even answer that. It’s obvious. It’s not. They have no business putting it on you and you have no business taking it. Pack up your things and meet me at the cafe, and don’t waste a single minute doing it. Go.”

Hirianthial took the first few steps down the hall, propelled by the force of her command. When it dissipated, he stopped, staring at the corridor and realizing some part of him had responded to the conviction of her words... her absolute belief in his innocence. He looked over his shoulder at her.

“What?” Reese asked, aura crackling.

What to ask? How to quantify the tangled confusion? It made no sense to him that she would believe in him. “Why?”

Something in his stare unnerved her: the wreath of anger deflated and was replaced with an embarrassed wrinkle of brown and something mysterious and iridescent. With a shrug, Reese said, “Because you didn’t deserve it. Because you didn’t want to do the operation. Because it was the right thing to do.” She glared at him from beneath lowered brow. “I’d have done the same for any of my people.”