Sweet Starfire (42 page)

Severance reached up and touched the rockrug. Fred went still, his body still and alert. Satisfied that the creature was going to obey the silent command, Severance reached for the knife in his utility belt. Logically, whoever was outside the window shouldn’t be able to open it. The diazite was locked. But there were ways around locks. Too many ways.

Severance wasn’t very surprised when the diazite pane swung inward without a sound. The figure coming through the window was holding a pulser. He got no more man one leg hooked over the windowsill. Severance came to a sitting position in a smooth rush of movement, launching the knife in his hand with the full power of his shoulder and upper arm.

The heavy-duty utility knife caught the intruder in the right side of his chest. The pulser dropped to the floor as the victim yelled in pain and rage. The force of the blow sent him spinning backward, out of the window and onto the ground.

“Severance!” Cidra came awake with a startled gasp, clutching at the sheet. Rain was pouring through the open window. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

But he was already out of bed and leaning out of the window. An instant later he was through it and crouching on the ground outside. Cidra heard Fred moving agitatedly on the ledge above her, and then she felt him undulating down onto her shoulder and along the bed. He was moving almost as fast as Severance had moved. The rockrug crossed the room and wriggled onto the other window ledge. Cidra wasn’t far behind both of them.

“Severance? What are you… Sweet Harmony, it’s him!” She stared at the man lying flat on the ground in the pouring rain. Severance was hunkered down beside him, his nude body gleaming sleekly from the steady downpour. “It’s him,” she said again, dazed. “The man who attacked Desma and me in the lab.”

Then she saw the blood mingling with the rainwater that was running down the man’s chest. The hilt of the utility knife protruded from his rumpled clothing. She caught her breath. “Is he… is he dead?”

“No. My aim was a little off. It’s hard to get an accurate shot from a sitting position. Especially when you’re in a hurry.” Severance was examining his victim. “You’re sure it’s the same renegade?”

She stared at the stricken man, whose face was twisted in a grimace of pain. It was an expression that wasn’t all that different from the one of fear she had last seen him wearing. “It’s him. What’s he doing here? Everyone assumed he’d disappeared.”

“Since he’s still alive, we’ll be able to ask him a whole lot of interesting questions. See if Desma is home yet. If not, use her comp-phone to get company Security out here.”

Cidra hesitated, deeply aware of the pain the intruder must be feeling. “We’ve got to stop the bleeding, Severance.”

He looked up at her as she stood framed in the window. For the first time Cidra saw the expression on his face. Rain washed over his hard features, revealing a grim, hollow stare that shook her to the core.

“I’m almost sure he came through that window to kill you,” Severance said much too softly. “I don’t give a damn if he dies right here and now. Go wake Desma.”

She still had far to go yet before she became completely accustomed to Wolf ways, Cidra thought as she went in search of Desma. There was no sense fooling herself. In some respects she would never become a true Wolf. She wondered if it was that weakness in her nature that made Severance wary of taking her with him.

Severance watched the window as Cidra disappeared and wondered if she could ever accept the part of him that was capable of this kind of violence. Then he looked down at the man on the ground and felt like slitting the renegade’s throat. The temptation to finish the job he’d begun with the utility knife was strong. Not only had the intruder represented a threat to Cidra, he had given her one more glimpse of Severance as a man who was about as far from being a Harmonic as it was possible to get.

Cidra stood in the departure lounge the next day waiting for Severance to confirm her reservation. She was wearing her embroidered green midday robe, and her hair was in its usual coronet. Her hands were clasped in front of her in the formal position of patience. Around her the hustle of passengers and crew flowed unheeded, not touching her either physically or emotionally. She felt isolated and intensely alone, her eyes following Severance as he verified her flight. As he turned to make his way back through the crowd she searched his face, hoping for some sign of a reprieve.

There was none. Severance had made up his mind, and she knew better than to expect to change it at this late hour. Cidra felt a rush of anger and resentment at the midnight intruder, not because he had come through the window with the intention of killing her so mat she couldn’t identify him, but because he had succeeded in ruining what was left of her last night with Severance. The man had been questioned by company security immediately after he had received medical aid for the knife wound. Then Severance and Cidra had both been obliged to give statements. It was all cut-and-dried as far as the legal aspects went. Violence within Try Again was dealt with severely. Renaissance couldn’t afford to encourage it inside the one safe zone on the planet. Bad for business. The intruder was under computer lock, but no one could give Cidra back the rest of her night with Severance. Morning had arrived all too quickly.

“You’re all set. I upgraded your cabin. This way you’ll have more room.”

She inclined her head in formal thanks.

“Bigger lav too,” he added in a deadpan tone. “You can bathe to your heart’s content. You’ll be able to spend the whole trip under a spray if you feel like it.”

“It was very thoughtful of you. I am in your debt.”

Severance winced. “Could you cut out the ritualistic good manners? Sometimes lately I’ve had the feeling that you use them when you want to be sarcastic. I’m never sure how to take them.”

“I’m sorry, Severance,” she whispered unhappily. Nothing was going right. Severance had been short-tempered with her since he had used his knife against the man who had tried to kill her. Time was running out, and they seemed to have less and less to say to each other. Cidra was aware of a sensation of panic waiting to swamp her.

Severance ignored her soft apology, took her arm, and guided her over to a quieter section of the lounge. “I’ve got something I want you to do for me.”

Cidra’s heart lifted for the first time that morning. “Of course,” she said simply, but her eyes were shining.

He handed her a credit plate. “Take it.”

She stared at it in dismay. “But it’s for your account.”

“I’ve had it opened for you. You can use that card to access it.”

“But, Severance, I don’t need any credit. I have plenty of my own, remember? What is this all about? I don’t understand. If this is some gesture of warped responsibility on your part, you can just forget it. I don’t want your share of the stake!”

“Cidra, try not to get hysterical on me over a little thing like this. I am not exactly giving you the entire contents of my credit account.”

“Then what are you giving me?”

“Access to it. I’m going to be stuck on board Severance Pay for the next several weeks. On board, communications are limited. You know that. I don’t have the facilities to do research or make investments from the deck of a mail ship. On the other hand, you’re going to be running around Clementia with access to the best information sources on three planets. I don’t want my two hundred and fifty thousand sitting still in a credit account. I want it working.”

“You want me to invest it for you?”

“Something short-term and highly profitable,” he said bluntly. “You’re the one with all the education. Do something useful with it and with my stake. Take good care of it, Cidra. Lose my capital for me and I’ll—”

“I know,” she said. “You’ll take it out of my hide.” She was gazing up at him with a palpable glow as she clutched the credit slip tightly in her palm. “I’ll take care of your stake for you, Severance. I swear it.”

He smiled crookedly. “I know you will. I trust you.”

Not with his heart and not yet with his future, but he trusted her with his credit. It was a hopeful sign, and Cidra clung to it. She dropped the credit slip carefully into the concealed pocket of her robe. It was a bond between herself and Severance, one that would surely draw him back for no other reason than to find out what she had done with his capital. Any kind of dust at all from a Wolf like Severance was a small miracle.

“You will be very careful, Severance?”

“I’ll be careful.” He touched the tip of her ear. “You’ll go straight home to Clementia and stay out of second-class taverns and dives?”

“I promise.”

“Cidra—” He broke off as if uncertain about what to say next.

Cidra touched his hand. “It’s all right, Severance. I understand. It has to be mis way. This is the only way you can be sure of yourself and of me.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed him lightly. Then she stepped back. “I’ll be waiting for you.” She turned and was gone.

Severance felt his gut twist as she walked into the crowd of departing passengers. Her slender, green-robed figure was lost amid the hulking uniforms and standard-issue Renaissance jungle garb. For an instant he almost gave into the sense of panic that was clawing at his insides. She was out of reach already. The panel doors of the boarding gate were sealing shut, cutting her off from him, perhaps forever.

He had been a fool. He should have taken his chances, should have risked the odds and kept her with him. He’d taken so many risks in his life; why hadn’t he been able to take this one?

But he had no right to try to make up her mind for her. She needed time and the peace of Clementia. Only then could she be sure of what she was doing.

Severance reached into a small pouch on his utility belt and let bis fingers close around the fireberyl comb. The feel of it seemed to soothe the gnawing uncertainty that he knew was going to be a close companion during the long weeks ahead.

QED
looked different on this trip, Severance realized as he oversaw the unloading of the mail. The endless vistas of orange and red dust were as barren and forbidding as ever, but the sight of them no longer made his stomach tighten or caused his mind to beat at him in angry frustration.

Revenge was exactly what he had always suspected it would be: calming and satisfying. It hadn’t taken away the old pain or allowed him to forget his own sense of responsibility for what had happened to Jeude, but it had quieted him inside. The pain and the feeling of being partially responsible were things he had already learned to live with during the past two years. Time diluted the self-recriminations and would continue to do so. But exacting a measure of justice had eased him inside in a way that time would never have succeeded in doing. Racer’s death had paid not only for the threats to Cidra but also for Jeude’s death, and it had balanced some internal scale.

QED
was never going to be his idea of the ideal vacation spot of the Stanza Nine system. The planet would always hold memories of the deaths of his parents and his brother. But Severance could view the raw, boomtown of Proof and the outlying orange hills with a sense of perspective now. It occurred to him that it wasn’t simply revenge that had enabled him to gain perspective. He had learned something from Cidra too. Her gentleness had also eased something inside him.

This was an ore and mineral-rich land. Companies and individuals were wresting fortunes out of the ground with the assistance of the ubiquitous spidersleds. Severance was obliged to step out of the way of one of the mobil metal monsters as he crossed the landing field to the port office. Its long, insectlike legs, so useful for covering rough terrain, narrowly missed his boot.

“Hey, up there,” he yelled to the man in the driver’s seat, “if you can’t operate that thing properly, someone’s going to show you how it’s done the hard way.”

“Don’t need any advice on how to do it the hard way,” the middle-aged ex-miner rasped. “I do it that way all the time. Back again, huh, Severance? Miss the local fun spots?”

“The only thing I’ve missed is taking your loose credit in a game of Free Market, Tanner.” Severance stopped beside the spidersled as the man halted it. “You interested in trying to take back some of what you lost last time I was in Port?”

“Sure, if we can use my cubes.” Tanner grinned hugely, his weathered face crinkling into a hundred creases.

“The day I let you use your cubes is the day I’ll be too spaced to play.”

“Don’t trust anyone, do you, Severance?” Tanner observed with mock admiration.

Severance thought about it. At one time his answer would have been a ready no. “Maybe one woman I know.”

“Severance, you’re a damn fool if the one person you decide to trust is female. I do believe you’ve got a problem.”

“I’m coping. See you this evening. And I’ll bring the cubes.” He moved away from the spidersled as it lurched into motion.

One night was all he would be spending on
QED
this trip. Severance no longer cared if he missed a few mail contracts by rushing back off-planet. He didn’t care that he would be turning around to face another six weeks of empty space without more than a one night’s break. All he cared about was starting the journey back to Lovelady.

The six weeks from Renaissance had been the longest and loneliest of his life, even worse than the dark season after Jeude’s death. At least during that period he’d had his own bitterness and self-reproach to keep him company. But for the past six weeks the only company he’d had aside from Fred had been memories of Cidra.

The ship had seemed deserted without her. It had amazed Severance at first. He was accustomed to being alone on board with only Fred as a companion. He shouldn’t have been so shocked to find himself alone again, but he was. He would wake up in the morning longing for the smell of hot coffade and someone to share it with. He would stand under the spray in the lav, and his mind would be filled with images of Cidra’s charming tendency to waste water. She was so scrupulously clean and sweet-smelling.

He missed other things too. She’d had the ability to share time with him without demanding that he entertain her. Cidra was a woman with whom he could be quiet. For hours at a time she had retreated to her bunk to read or become absorbed in her programming while he worked out on the exercise machine or fiddled with a gadget. But he had always been pleasantly conscious of her presence, a satisfying sensation. She had become a companion, not just a passenger.