Diamond Star (5 page)

Risk, hell. A typical vid only held ten songs. Del had enough material to fill five cubes. Vids were simple, just holographic movies that played as if the artists were in the room. Viewers could rotate them, zoom in or out, pull down a story vid, customize the songs for themselves. Prime-Nova should be offering Del a virt, or virtual reality simulation. Virt users weren't passive listeners; they participated in the holo-vid, which created a "reality" they could play with themselves. Entire communities in the mesh universe had built up around the more sophisticated virts. The interactive experience fascinated, even obsessed its fans.

Mac knew why they hadn't mentioned a virt. It was riskier to produce because it cost more. But they were also potentially much more lucrative. Of course, Del had
no
experience. So yeah, they were taking a risk. But even if for some reason Del had trouble providing twenty songs over the next few years, Greg and his crew could make whatever he gave them succeed. They had a lot to work with. Two holo cubes for a first-time artist was normally a good offer, but if Mac had actually been representing Del, he would have pushed for a virt on at least one, maybe both.

Today he said only, "I'll talk to him."

Zachary and Ricki waited. After a moment, Zachary said, "Prime-Nova has the longest track record in the business."

Mac didn't see his point. Yes, Prime-Nova was established. Then he realized what Zachary meant. They thought he was auditioning Del elsewhere, that he was waiting because he wanted to know who else was going to offer what. Cripes. They thought he was playing hardball.

"I'll tell him," Mac answered. "We'll get back to you."

"Mac, I've known you a long time," Zachary said. "I like you. For the sake of our relationship, we're willing to take a chance on this farm boy. We'll give you virts with both of his albums."

Hell and damnation.
If Del had been anyone else, Mac would have started negotiating royalties, publishing rights, the whole game. But he
couldn't
make a commitment, and he sure as blazes couldn't tell them why. He didn't want Del to take the offer, but neither could he just walk away.

"I'll let him know," Mac said.

Ricki looked incredulous. "You won't get a better offer, Mac. And you sure as hell won't get the high level of backing Prime-Nova can give him."

Mac didn't doubt it. If Del had it in him to become a star, Prime-Nova could make him one.
If.
Sure, Del could play the undercity fringe. But succeeding on the level Prime-Nova wanted was another matter altogether, and Mac had his doubts that Del could manage that transition, especially given that he had spent so many years with no outlet for his music. The youth had no idea what it meant to conduct a professional career.

Mac kept his voice neutral. "Like I said. Del and I will talk."

Ricki's voice cooled. "I can't promise the deal will stay on the table. I've two more auditions today. A lot of boys out there want what we're offering your client."

Mac nodded, secretly relieved. If he put them off, maybe they would withdraw the deal. Then he felt guilty; he knew how much this would mean to Del, to have people not only believe in his music, but offer him the backing of a conglomerate powerhouse.

"Just give me a day," Mac said.
Just a day.

She shook her head. "Even a few hours may be too long."

Mac had never seen her push this hard before. "I understand."

She and Zachary waited. When Mac said no more, Zachary let out a sharp breath. "I need an opener for Mind Mix's live concert tour. I'll give the spot to your client."

It was all Mac could do to keep his mouth from falling open. They were offering Del a tour with a top band, one of the few good enough to play live concerts? It was
absurd
--and it made sense. Del could, in theory, give a show people would want to hear, which was better than most of the "talent" in the Prime-Nova stable. Except Del had never performed in concert. In fact, he had never played for more than fifty people. Mind Mix played live for hundreds of thousands, even millions. Prime-Nova would be crazy to put Del under that kind of pressure so soon.

"Look," Mac said. "I appreciate that offer. It's a good one. But I have to talk this over with Del."

"Take it now or not," Zachary told him. "You walk out of here looking for a better blast, that's it. Ours is gone."

Sweat beaded on Mac's forehead. If they were following the usual procedures, this conversation was being recorded and the offer would be binding on them if he agreed. Mac knew he should be jumping at the opportunity. But blast it, he
couldn't.

The hum of the lift vibrated in the booth, followed by the whisper of its door opening. Mac had one moment to panic before Del walked through the gold shimmer to their right.

"Hey, Mac." Del grinned. "The acoustics in that room, you not believe it. They are being incredible."

"Del, hello." Zachary stepped past Mac and extended his hand. "It's good to meet you. I'm Zachary Marksman, Vice President of Technology, Mechanicals, and Media."

After the slightest pause, Del shook his hand. "Hello."

Mac recognized Del's hesitation. The youth's parents may have raised their children in a rural community, but Del wasn't naive, not by a long shot. He knew vice presidents didn't just show up and introduce themselves for no reason. Suspicion flickered in his eyes, the knowledge of a prince whose acquaintance many people coveted for the status it brought them. It was ironic, because Zachary lived in the same type of world, where hopeful artists would do
anything
for that handshake he had just offered Del.

"We were discussing our contract offer with Mac," Ricki said smoothly. "He says he needs to discuss it with you."

Del looked from Ricki to Zachary. To Ricki. To Mac. Back to Ricki. Mac didn't miss the way Del's gaze skimmed over her voluptuous body and lingered on her face.
Damn.

"What contract offer?" Del asked.

Ricki eased past Zachary, right up to Del. The vice president stepped back, giving her room to work. "Two cubes," Ricki purred. "Holo-vid and virt. And opening for Mind Mix in concert. Like it?"

"Del," Mac warned. "Don't answer. Your responses are being recorded. A yes could be interpreted as a binding contract." He doubted Del had a clue what they were talking about, but it didn't matter as long as the prince kept his mouth shut. Otherwise, Del could end up committing himself to Prime-Nova indenture.

Del's forehead furrowed. "I don't understand."

"I told them you and I need to talk it over," Mac said.

"Talk what over?" Del frowned at him, then focused on Ricki. "You want my music?" Although his voice was guarded, Mac could hear the incredulity that lay under that neutral tone.

"That's right." Ricki tapped his chest with her manicured fingernail, the blood-red polish bright against Del's snowy shirt. "We want your songs. And
you.
On stage. With Mind Mix."

"What is mind mix?" Del asked.

Silence greeted him. Mac didn't know whether to laugh or groan. A smile spread across Ricki's face, smooth and all too knowing, the master player sizing up an innocent lamb. "You probably don't hear them out in the edge colonies. They sing, Del. A great band. The best. And
you
could open for them."

"You mean sing on stage, before they come out?" Del asked.

"That's right." She splayed her hand on his chest, and he looked down, his lashes lowering over his eyes. In her sultriest voice, she added, "Would you like that?"

"Don't answer her." Mac stepped up and pushed away her hand.

She glanced indolently at Mac, then back at Del. "There's one catch, honey. You have to give us an answer now."

"Ricki," Mac warned.

Del considered him. "They want me to sing on one of those holo-vids, right? And as a warm-up for this other group?"

Mac felt as if the roof were about to fall on him. "That's right."

Del's face was hard to read. He was as guarded now with Mac as with the others. When he turned to Ricki, his eyes glinted. "Yes," he said, his voice deepening. "I do it."

"Damn it, Del!" Mac grabbed his arm and pulled him across the booth. He spoke in a low voice. "
Don't
say anything else. A deal like this has to be negotiated."

Del regarded him with a coldness he had never shown Mac before. "I need an expert to talk with them. You do this? Yes or no?"

Mac raked his hand through his hair. "Of course I'll do it."

"Good." Del's tension eased. He turned to Ricki and indicated Mac. "My front-liner, he work out details with you."

Ricki's smile dripped satisfaction. "I'm glad to hear that."

Mac stared at her, and hoped to blazes he wasn't looking at the catalyst for an interstellar catastrophe.

III: First Step

Fitzwilliam R. McLane, aka Fitz, wasn't the only general Mac knew, but he left the others in the dust when it came to the force of his personality. His grey hair resembled iron, and his grey eyes were set under brows of the same color. He sat in his big chair behind his big desk and regarded Mac with a considering stare.

"What does it mean, exactly?" Fitz asked. "He'll sing in those things the kids watch?"

"That's right," Mac said, uncomfortable in his chair despite its smart-tech, which kept shifting the cushions, trying to relax him. "And he'll go on tour with the other band."

To Mac's surprise, Fitz
smiled.
"Who would have guessed? Of all the ways I thought he might find to get away from us here at the base, I never would have come up with this. I thought he'd go to the Skolian embassy when he realized we wouldn't stop him."

"I'm not so sure he wants to go home," Mac said. "Except for his sister's kids. He's been sort of surrogate father to them."

"Two boys, right?" Fitz asked. "One grown and the other--what? Ten?"

"Eight, actually," Mac said. "They use an octal system, so they say ten. The other boy is eighteen. I don't know much else; the family kept them away from our Allied delegation." Dryly he said, "We weren't exactly welcome on Del's world."

"So I gathered." Fitz tapped his desk, bringing up a screen, and flicked through a few displays. "The sister never married?"

"I don't think so." From what Mac understood, the Skolian government had interfered for some reason, something to do with her children, but he had no idea what. He was still figuring out the convoluted relationship between the Skolian Assembly and the Ruby Dynasty. The Assembly and royal family split the rule of the Imperialate, half an elected government and half dynastic. But that had only been since the war, which had ended with a bizarre twist when the Ruby Pharaoh overthrew her
own
government. Before that, she had been a titular ruler without political power.

From cryptic remarks Del had made, Mac gathered that in the past, the Assembly had mistreated his family in some way, spurring the pharaoh's coup at the end of the war. Politics had poisoned his family in some inscrutable Skolian way Mac had yet to figure out, but Del wouldn't talk about it.

"Do you think Del wants to stay on Earth?" Fitz asked.

"Yes, I think so, if this business with Prime-Nova works out," Mac said. "If he bombs, they'll probably drop him after his contract ends. I don't know what he'd want to do then."

Fitz sat, rubbing his chin. "How much time is involved in making and marketing these cubes?"

"His contract says he has to complete both within three years."

"And his tour?"

"It depends on how he does," Mac said. "If he plummets, they'll yank him after a few performances." He hoped he wasn't being prophetic. "Mind Mix is one of their biggest acts. They can't risk an unpopular opener."

"Do you think he will--what was the word? Plummet."

That was the billion-dollar question. Literally. "He has the talent," Mac said. "What he does with it is a different question. He's never performed in concert. He breaks rules, too, and he walks the edge of what the censors will allow. He could fail miserably." He paused. "With Prime-Nova backing him, though, he has a chance of a good career."

Fitz smiled wryly. "It isn't what you usually associate with the Ruby Dynasty."

No kidding. Mac was having trouble deciphering the general's reaction. "If you want the contract broken, we can manage. It will take lawyers, but given Del's identity, I think we can do it."

"Broken!" Fitz actually laughed. "Mac, it's brilliant. You've convinced him to stay on Earth and given him a reason to keep you around."

"You
want
him to do this?"

"His family can hardly accuse us of forcing him to stay if
he
insists on it. And he'll be right here, under our control." He considered Mac. "How does this front-liner thing work? Do you manage him, too? The more we keep you involved, the better."

Mac couldn't believe he was hearing this. "I just get him the contract. I'm not a manager. I don't have enough experience. And it would take a lot of time away from my other clients."

"But could you do it?"

Could he? Mac didn't know if it was a good idea for Del's career, and he disliked the idea of being responsible for someone so important to interstellar politics. But he had to admit it made sense. Although concentrating on Del's career would mean giving up some of his other clients, he would receive a percentage of Del's income, which could be substantial if Del succeeded.

"I might be able to," Mac said. "Assuming I could find good front-liners for my other clients. But Del would have to agree, with full knowledge that I'm reporting back to you."

"Do you think he will?"

"I don't know." Mac exhaled. "It's his safety I'm worried about. He'll be leaving the base a lot more. He should have more security than me and my monitors."

Fitz nodded. "We'll get him a full-time bodyguard. One of the teched-up Marines. With all the bioware those boys carry in their bodies, it'll be as if he has a phalanx of guards."

"You can't have a Marine hulking around him!" Mac wondered if Fitz had any clue of the life Del would be living, especially on the road. "It would be like putting a sign over Del's head saying, 'Hey, look, I'm important.' "