Ambasadora (Book 1 of Ambasadora) (18 page)

After several minutes of pushing
food around on her plate without taking a single bite, she realized David had
simply shoved his meal away without touching it. He had downed several glasses
of the honeyed mead, however, including Sara’s when she offered it to him.

Venture tried to peek under
Kenon’s jacket at her bio-lights. She snagged his thumb and bent it in on
itself, not enough to break, just enough to make a point.

He retracted his hand and glared
at her. “Best be careful, ambasadora, or you’ll ruin the Sovereign’s
little set-up.”

The whispered words struck her in
the stomach. “I guess I was moving too slow for him?” She kept her
voice low, trying to coax out what he knew.

“The Sovereign is not a man
to be kept waiting. But, he is gracious, so he arranged tonight for you.”

“What happens tonight?”
Her voice sounded tight, and not just because she was whispering.

“Ambasadora, if you need a
demonstration, I’ll be happy to oblige.” He grinned, a huge piece of
blackened meat caught between two of his upper teeth.

“This was not part of the
plan. The timing isn’t right. By rushing this, Simon is only hurting
himself.”

“On a first name basis with
the Sovereign? You must be something special,” Venture chided.

“I’m not playing this game.
I do this on my terms or not at all.” She threw her napkin down and pushed
away from the table. Speaking loudly, she turned to David. “Ready to
go?”

“Yep.”

“How regrettable. I was
informed shortly before you joined me of an impending storm moving toward Nanga
Ki.” Venture spoke up.

“I’ve flown in severe
weather before.” David started to walk away.

“You don’t seem to
understand. We operate on a mandated lock-down during storms. Barring an
emergency or Embassy directive, those doors open for no one. Not even the
Sovereign
,
if he were here.”

Sara stiffened.

Before David could mouth another
protest, Venture continued, “Not to worry. I’ve secured one of our best
guestrooms for you. Though, I regret that it is the
only
one available.
Lucky your terra observer already found a bunk mate….”

“What about the crew on the
Bard
?”

With another burst of irritation,
Venture raised his voice in finality. “Your passengers have already been
notified that any traffic into or out of the hangar is strictly prohibited for
now. The message was received by your archivist.”

The doors to the dining hall
opened, allowing Green Hair and his friends access. The other diners fell
silent.

“I could offer you a holding
cell for the evening if you’d prefer.”

Squeezing David’s arm, Sara said,
“No, that won’t be necessary. The guest room sounds very cozy.” If
Simon were part of this ruse, it was best to be careful until they knew more
about the real situation.

“I figured as much. If
you’ve finished, I’ll have you escorted there now.”

Green Hair motioned them out the
doors and through a stone passageway. David encircled Sara with his arm and
pulled her close. It would appear as an intimate gesture to unknowing eyes,
instead he used it as a way to communicate through a whisper. “This whole
thing doesn’t make sense. Do you think keeping us here is some type of
political move? Maybe Venture is buying time to work our
rescue
to his
advantage.”

“I’m not sure he’s smart
enough to have plotted something so fast.” But Simon certainly had plans
for them.

“I can take the two guys on
the right, and that would give you a chance to make a break for it, like on the
magnos that day.”

Sara felt confident she could
take the guys on the right and the woman directly in front of her before David
made a move, but now was not the time to stir up a group of edgy contractors.
“Neither of us would get very far. I think we should play it
cautious.”

They rounded the corner.

“Maybe you’re right. There’s
no way any of these idiots would touch an ambasadora.”

“Of course not.” She
hoped she kept the sarcasm out of her tone.

“Here’s your room.”
Green Hair stopped in front of the first door in this annex. He flung open the
thick Oak door and waited for David and Sara to step inside. As she passed, the
contractor leaned in to say, “Have fun.”

“You can’t break down the
door no matter how hard you pound,” Sara said.

David smashed his fist against
the solid wood again. “Someone is bound to hear us. I’ve been pounding on
it for twenty minutes. I can’t understand why they locked us in.”

She was sure someone
did
hear
them. Without being obvious, she had scanned the room for cameras or listening
devices. They could be anywhere–camouflaged in the stone walls, built into the
canopy bed, sewn into the pillows, or molded into the tray of cooling drinks
and pastries that waited for them on the table.

Simon hadn’t missed a detail. The
cozy quarters were meant to be an interrogation room of sorts, to aid Sara in
retrieving information by a particular means. The thought tore at her. Flirting
with a potential partner and consensual couplings were one thing, using her
sexuality to extract information was quite another. It reminded her too much of
contractor behavior, selfish, deceptive. She thought about the stakes, the
permanent loss of her breeding right, maybe even death. Then she thought about
the fraggers who had attacked at Palomin and their brutality. She thought
especially about the fragger who sat on top of her and would have squeezed the
life from her if not for Rainer.

Rainer.

Where there were memories of him,
memories of Faya and her torture followed. Better this than a modification
cell. David should consider himself so lucky.

“They have to let us go
eventually. I’m an ambasadora, remember? The Media follows my every move.
Didn’t you see the voyeurs in the dining hall? The whole system knows we’re
here.”

In truth, she hadn’t seen a
voyeur in the entire place, an oddity which had needled her. There was no
public arena void of Media spies, not even somewhere as remote as Nanga Ki. It
all made an eerie sense now and put her on edge—Simon didn’t want any more
witnesses than necessary. She realized how much comfort she had taken in their
transparent society, a false safety that someone was always
watching out
for you, not just
watching
you.

“Then how is Venture going
to explain holding us here?” David asked.

“He’ll say you were a
security risk.” She sat down on the bed, as there was no place else to
sit. “That you refused to obey the storm lock-down, putting the entire
complex in jeopardy. That he had no other choice. Or something along those
lines.” She patted the bed beside of her and tried not to think of the way
David had looked at Mari earlier. Sara felt guilty enough.

David sat on the edge of the bed
beside her. “I’m not sure I believe that.”

“Venture won’t do anything
to upset Sim—the Sovereign. His post and title would be forfeit.” This
same threat may have been how Simon managed to secure Venture’s cooperation in
the first place, or maybe it was a promise of a better position. Too bad for
Venture, Simon wasn’t the type to keep his promises.

David grabbed a dainty pastry
from the tray and popped the whole thing in his mouth, then offered her one.
“They’re good.”

“Yes, they are.” Her
appetite was back. “What do we have to drink?”

David took a sip. “Chai,
with a little something extra. Bourbon, maybe. My father added Bourbon to
everything he drank. Come to think of it, so did my mother.” David took a
larger swallow.

Sara followed suit. The spice of
the chai definitely hid the underlying notes of some type of alcohol. Some of
the anxiety eased. She had a little time to think now. So far, she had been a
half step ahead of Simon. There was no reason to believe she couldn’t keep that
lead. She pulled her feet under her and leaned against one of the large tasseled
pillows, some of her inhibitions fading as she let her knees rest against
David’s hip.

He noticed and looked decidedly
uncomfortable. When he handed her another pastry, she made sure their fingers
touched in the pass, her own comfort level rising as the alcohol dulled the
edges of her conscience.

“So, how did you become an
ambasadora anyway?” David’s hand rested on her knee.

“I have Sovereign Prollixer
to thank for it.” She sipped at the chai and lay back on the pillows.

David’s hand had started a slow
move up her leg, pushing the bottom of her dress with it. “Were you chosen
because of your lineage or did you apply to the position?” His speech sounded
a little off. He had a slight accent anyway, tending to draw out certain
vowels. It suited him, just another of his attractive qualities.

“It’s a long story,”
she said.

“According to Bakkin
Venture, we’ve got all night.” His hand was almost to her thigh.

Something about the way David
said
Bakkin
made Sara laugh. She knew exactly what Mari saw in the older
man. He was big and safe and the type to handle any situation that came his
way, probably how he had worked through the fleet ranks to become a captain. A
man like David Anlow would have gotten her out of Palomin. Sara wondered how those
thoughts floated into her head. Like on a cloud. She felt cloudy, as though
she
were floating a little and couldn’t see through her blurry peripheral vision. Taking
another swallow of chai, she wondered if that was what caused the dreamy
feeling. It certainly warmed her throat and belly and several other parts of
her that were responding to David’s hand on her leg.

He chugged down his drink. In
this light his facial features vaguely resembled Sean Cryer’s. Maybe they
shared some type of common ancestry. She took another sip, wishing the scruffy
blonde were sitting next to her. Stretching her legs out, she allowed that white
cloud to build around her.

David leaned over her, his face
just centimeters from hers.

She smoothed one of his eyebrows
with her thumb.

“Are you tired, Mari?”
he asked.

“Not really,” Sara said,
though her lids felt heavy. Wait. Did he just call her Mari? Sara thought he
had. She tried to shake the cloudy feeling, but her inner voice was garbled
like static.

“Me neither.” David,
or
was it Sean
, traced the swirls of purple on her hand, stirring them into a
quickening pulse. Then he slid his hands up her arms, all the way to her
shoulders, sending the satiny blue straps of her dress falling away. She
giggled and wondered where the sound had come from.

He whispered something in her
ear. It was a far-away whisper, though, and the words were incomprehensible, as
though he spoke another language. She wanted to respond, but couldn’t form her
own words. The white clouds threatened from all around her now. Understanding
poured through her. She was sliding. The chai fell from her hands. This time
David laughed, a deep throaty rumble that reverberated through her body.

“Drugged,” was all she managed to whisper. Her
hand reached for him, but he now had three faces. She couldn’t find the real
one, though she swore she had tried to touch each of them at least once. When he
brushed his lips against hers, she knew she’d found the right one, but the
clouds interfered with her movements. Confused, she kissed him back. He tasted
like chai. She parted the clouds for just a moment and tried to warn him again.

“Drugged,” she said against his mouth. He kissed
her harder.

Didn’t he realize something was wrong? She said in a lazy
voice, “I’m not Mari.”

He pulled away from her and sat up. She heard him say
something in that other language, but couldn’t respond. She froze when she saw
Rainer in David’s place. Her conscious mind battled her sliding subconscious.
Rainer wasn’t here. Just her and David. Right?

The feeling of helplessness and disorientation bloomed into
panic. Her skin felt too hot and her breath wouldn’t come easily. Dizziness
struck. She crawled past David and grabbed at the canopy’s silky curtains, but
they tore under her weight and sent her spilling onto the cold stone floor.

David stumbled to help her. Was his balance affected by the
drugs or was it her perception? The thud of his body hitting the floor at the
other end of the bed brought her answer.

“David,” she choked out.

There was a distant groaning, which slowly formed into
whispered words, just not David’s.
“Can’t have you dying on me
yet.”

Faya.

Sara looked around the room. No Faya, only a pinpoint of
light caught in her peripheral vision. She looked at the area straight on, the
light jumped to the other corner. It bounced around, appearing to her left then
her right. Now it swam directly in front of her, reminding her of the way light
reflected off a razor disc when it was thrown just right. She was sure she’d
seen one of its silvery blades.

Faya’s voice morphed into Simon’s.
“You’ve seen
their faces, you know their names. So, when they die because of your actions,
you’ll remember them.”

The disc spun directly above her. As its rotation slowed she
could discern individual specks instead one large mass. They weren’t blades;
they looked like her bio-lights. She glanced at her arm. One by one the
lavender dots popped out of her skin and rose into the air, swarming together.
She stifled a scream and crawled to a wall. Using its nooks and crevices like
handholds, she climbed to her feet.

Rainer’s voice was at her ear.
“You’re a liar.”

“Stop!” She punched at the stone wall. The pain of
smashed knuckles brought momentary clarity.

The door opened. Green Hair and a female contractor pushed
inside.

Sara rushed the woman, knocking her to the ground. She
struggled against her opponent and the half-dream state ascending on her again.
She allowed a punch to connect with her side. The pain did as she’d hoped and
parted the clouds long enough for her to shove the contractor’s head against
the stone. The woman went limp.