Voyage of the Sanguine Shadow 1: Shadow Galactic (16 page)

His heart ached.  “That girl can’t be you?”

Valerie shrugged.  “Maybe.  I can’t see that far
into the future.”  She scooted closer and took his hand into hers, guided his
index finger to her upper right arm.  “Now, these stars represent my freedom.”
She moved his finger to trace the thick black lines.  When she released his
hand, he continued on his own.

“The skin is rough.”

“It’s a tattoo,” she stated frankly, and for a
moment, she simply enjoyed his gentle touch.  “I was still in high school when
I realized I needed to get out of Montag.  I mean, I really needed to get
out.”  His fingers slowly traveled down her arm.  “Stars
are
freedom—to
me, anyway.  So I had one put on my arm as a permanent reminder of what I was
fighting for.  And every month after, every month I was stuck down there, I
paid someone at the parlor to add another star, just like the one before it. 
But I promised myself… I promised myself that I’d get out before I reached the
end of my arm, because if I didn’t…”  She gestured putting a gun under her chin
and pulling the trigger.

He looked to her, his gaze pained.  “Was it that
bad?”

Her pale blue eyes welled, unbidden.  With an
awkward laugh, she turned away for a moment.  “Yeah, it was that bad.”  She
puffed out her cheeks, and her warmth quickly returned.  “Anyway, it was a year
later when I ran into the captain.  We got to talking, and she caught on pretty
quick that I was gifted.  A week later, she hired me on as her diplomatic
consultant.”  She nodded subtly.  “That was… four years ago.”

Gavin asked, “How old were you?”

“Eighteen,” she answered, and a sad smile crossed
her lips.

“I’m sorry you were in so much pain.”

With a shrug, she asked, “Why?  You didn’t know
me, and even if you did, you were fourteen at the time.  There’s nothing you
could’ve done.”

He exhaled heavily.  “I’m still sorry.”

She held his hand awhile.  “You’re very sweet.”

Brightening again, she released his grip and said,
“These.”  She hiked her shirt up halfway, leaning steeply to her left.  From
somewhere under her shirt, over part of her stomach and down along her side to
the waistline, danced a huddle of black cheetah spots.  “I got these done,
because I will always be myself, no matter what happens.  Whenever I feel like
I’m not good enough, I just remember that these are my spots.  I can’t change
them.”

Gavin traced those too, and she giggled before
shying away.  “Sorry,” he said, though he smiled.

“No, don’t be.  I’m really ticklish.”  She eased
off the bed and let her shirt tumble back into place.  Walking to the other
side of Gavin, she urged him over and sat down inches away.  Twisting to face
him, she pointedly regarded her dragon tattoo.

“May I?” he asked.

Valerie tilted her head to one side and replied,
“What do you think?”  He didn’t answer, but instead reached out and ran the
back of his hand over her vibrantly colored shoulder and biceps.  She
explained, “It represents strength and wisdom, two things I constantly strive
for.  I got it a couple years ago, when Captain promoted me to first mate.”

“That’s a good thing, right?”

With a nod, she said, “It was.”  She smiled
distantly, drew a deep breath and corrected herself.  “It is.”  Looking into
his adoring eyes, she added, “I have two more, but they’re on my boobs, so I
don’t want you to get weird about it.  They’re my statements of personal
beauty, the inner me that only those I completely trust will ever see.”  She
was warm, her leg against his now.  She rested her hand upon his knee and poked
it with her fingertip.

“Sure,” he said as composedly as he could manage.

Valerie arched her back and unhooked her bra.  She
pulled it out through the top of her shirt and set it on the bed behind her. 
She hiked up her top, nearly all the way, and revealed the under-crescents of
her breasts.  Along their lower edges, pink and lavender lotus blooms outlined
her curves, set within leaves of jade, reaching up nearly to the base of her
shirt.  “Pretty, huh?  I got these done last year,” she said, and she gently
pushed Gavin’s hand away as he reached to trace those tattoos, as well.

His ears were bright read.  “Ah, sorry.  I wasn’t
thinking.”

“Not clearly, no,” she chided.  Tracing her own
skin’s artwork, she resumed, “As I was saying, I got these done last year.  My
boobs first, and then the ink.”

“Oh?  Why?”

“Well, if I did it the other way around, the
flowers would’ve looked wrong.”

He laughed, and his mood lightened.  “I meant, why
did you get your boobs done?”

She thought a moment.  “Because I wanted to. 
Because I always wanted bigger boobs.”

With a mischievous squint, he asked, “What about
the cheetah spots?”

“I meant that as a metaphor for who I am, not what
I look like.”

Gavin nodded and glanced to his feet.  “Just
making sure.”

Valerie lightly punched his shoulder.  With a
defiant smile, she muttered, “Jerk.”

He chuckled and regarded her curiously.  “What do
they feel like?”

She lowered her shirt and plucked her bra from the
bed.  Deftly, she got back into it and teased, “Nice try.”  Plopping her arms
in her lap, she gazed upon Gavin with a mix of longing and uncertainty.  As he
was about to speak, she leaned forward suddenly and kissed him.  She took his
face into her hands and lingered upon his lips.

“Oh, wow,” he breathed when she had parted.

“I knew you’d be a good kisser,” she said, and she
stood up.  She picked up her jacket and draped it over her arm.  “Walk me to
the door?”

Gavin got to his feet and hurried to the doorway,
pulled it open, and Valerie stepped out into the hall.  “Thanks for trusting me
with your story.”

She intertwined her hands with his.  “I only told
you about my tattoos.”

“That’s part of your story.”

Shifting her weight over one hip, Valerie gazed
upon him with a kind smile.  “Then that was the prologue.”  She moved her thumb
across his knuckles and squeezed.  “Good night, Gavin.”

“Good night, Valerie.”  His heart felt about to
burst, and butterflies danced in his stomach as he looked upon her.  She gently
pulled her hands free, turned to head down the hall, and he watched her go. 
When she thought she was out of sight, Valerie beamed and hugged her jacket
close against her chest.

“We have
to distrust each other.  It is our only defense against betrayal.” –Tennessee
Williams

It was still dark outside
when Zerki awoke within a cold room, dimly lit by ribbons of light that ran
along the tops of the walls.  She was warm under a floral print comforter, and
she heard Reynold’s voice coming from the next room.  Rubbing her eyes, she
tried her hardest to remember how she had gotten here. 
We had a drink, and
then
…  She shook her head and slowly sat up.  Her joints ached.  Lifting
the comforter, she discovered she was wearing nothing more than her panties and
a cream colored silk slip that was a couple sizes too big.  She lowered the
comforter and studied her confines.  Across from her stood an antique dresser,
and next to it hung a covered birdcage.  She spotted her gloves, heels, purse
and gown piled onto a white velvet chaise lounge.

From the next room, she heard Reynold bark, “No,
listen to me!”  Silently, she slipped from under the covers and crept to the
doorway.  “You didn’t tell me she was a meat popsicle.  None of the usual
cocktails worked, and I don’t have time to get my hands on something that
will.”

The person on the other end of the conversation
remained calm, speaking in even tones.  She listened intently, and although she
couldn’t decipher the words, she recognized the voice. 
Kanlen, you
son-of-a-bitch!

“I really don’t have that kind of time.”  His
couch creaked under his weight as he shifted.  “He’s already here, that’s
why!”  A moment of silence followed, and Kanlen made a suggestion that caused
Reynold to cough.  “I don’t have that much money on hand.”

Zerki gripped her arms to fend off the cold, and
she leaned as close as she dared.  She could barely make out Kanlen’s voice as
he suggested, “Give her the money you were going to pay Phoranxth with.”  The
ghalloom chuckled dryly.  “Tell him if he wants his money, he’s going to have
to kill her for it.”

“That’s unprofessional.”

“You don’t have much choice.  He’s here to kill
her anyway, right?  So, make it a game!  Tell him there’s a bonus at stake. 
It’s not like you can’t afford to pay him a little extra.  You’ll be collecting
one of the biggest ellogon bounties on record for the death of Ibarra… and the
destruction of her starship.”  Kanlen quickly added, “Minus my fee, of course.”

Reynold exhaled as evenly as he could.  “I’ll call
you when it’s done,” he grumbled, and he hung up.  The quiet popping sound of
his device’s digital keyboard ticked out as Reynold composed a text message,
and Zerki took that moment to slip back under the covers.  Her mind raced.

In time, Reynold got up and came into the guest
room.  He sat down on the chaise lounge, and she heard her things tumble to the
floor.  Muttering to himself, he leaned over to pick them up and knocked into
the birdcage on his way up.  The parakeets contained within fluttered noisily,
and one of them squawked.

Zerki took that opportunity to startle awake.  She
sat bolt upright, feigned bleary eyes, and she yawned.  Her expression gathered
into an apologetic gaze as she regarded Reynold.  “Sorry, I don’t know what
happened.  I think I blacked out.”  She regarded her attire and looked back to
him roguishly.  “Why, Mr. Cavendish, shame on you!  I thought you were a
gentleman.”

“That’s Sir Cavendish, and I am a gentleman,” he
replied.  “That slip is my wife’s.  She dressed you, expecting you to stay the
night.”  He scooped up her belongings, got to his feet and walked over to set
them down before her.  “I’ll be in the next room.  We should talk business
after you’re dressed.”

“Of course,” she answered, and she smiled
politely.  When he had gone, she shed the oversized slip and got back into her
dress and heels.  She folded her gloves, placed them inside her purse and
styled her hair with her fingers.  Satisfied with her appearance, she crossed
through the doorway into a much larger room, where Reynolds awaited her.  He
sat before a square wooden table surrounded by four narrow, high backed
chairs.  A red leather couch spanned the floor at his back.  The walls were
white or blue, depending on the wall, and a clutter of yellow recesses had been
set throughout the room, seemingly at random.  A softly luminescent globe
floated over the table.

He gestured for her to sit.  “Please.”

She brightened somewhat and joined him.  “You have
a wonderful home.”

Reynold smiled with forced patience, and he nodded
mechanically.  “Indeed.”  He leaned forward over his interlocked hands. 
“Behemothylax,” he began.  “Where is it?”

“Why the rush?”

“It’s late, and my wife is waiting for me to come
to bed.”  He fidgeted and shifted his weight.

Zerki nodded and leaned back in her chair.  She
rested one arm flat on the table and bent the other toward her chin.  “Fair
enough.”  Leaning forward, she said, “I can show you where to find
Behemothylax.  You should know that we ran into some trouble with the ellogons
on the way out.  Perhaps more importantly, the ellogons ran into some trouble
with something… else.”

“What would that be, exactly?”

She shrugged.  “I’m not sure.  Try to imagine
Downtown Anywhere suddenly lifting off and heading for space, but underneath,
it has a beam cannon that’s as large as a starship carrier.  Imagine that beam
cannon scattering the ellogon warships like they were made of building blocks.”

Reynold’s eyes widened.  “That’s impossible.  That
kind of firepower doesn’t exist.”

“Return with me to my hauler, and I’ll show you
the footage.”

His throat bobbed visibly.  “No, I choose to
believe you.”  He coughed into his hand.  “This city-ship, is it still there?”

“I doubt it.  The ellogon fleet seemed to be their
primary target, and they made short work of it.”

Reynold absently stroked his white beard.  “I’m
not sure it’s worth sending any of my own starships out there to find out.”

Zerki scooted back her chair and stood up.  “It
probably isn’t.”  She extended her hand.  “It’s been a pleasure meeting you,
Sir Reynold Cavendish.  Good evening.”

He insistently gestured with both hands for Zerki
to sit.  “Let’s rewind a few seconds.  I said I wasn’t sure, not that I wasn’t
interested.  Please, sit.”  Zerki eased back into her chair.  “Can you at least
tell me the name of the system?  I’d like the chance to verify your information
before we continue.”

“Oh, that’s not how this works.”  She crossed her
arms.  “Why are you interested in Behemothylax, anyway?”

His pale countenance flushed slightly.  “I’m a
collector, a curator of galactic wonders, if you will.”

She laughed coldly.  “Yeah, we’re done.”  With
snide regard, she clapped her hands upon her knees and stood again.  “Good
luck.”

Reynold slammed his massive hand on the table,
startling her as he boomed, “Sit down!”  His face was bright red.  Finding his
calm, he simmered, “Please, sit down.  What do my reasons matter?”

“They don’t.”  She plopped down on the chair.  “I
just wanted to know if you were serious.  Sure, I’ve got another interested
party waiting for me to get back to them, but they don’t have the same passion
that you do.”  She mimicked striking the table with her fist.  “Very
passionate.”

The red in his cheeks and forehead slowly faded. 
“I’m used to getting what I put my mind to.”

“I can see that.”  She smiled slightly and took a
pad and pen from her purse, setting them down on the table.  “This is what’s
going to happen.  I’m going to write down a number, and you’ll give me half
now.  You’ll wire the other half to an account my first mate will send you in a
day or two, after you’ve verified the location of the crash site.”

He nodded wordlessly and gestured toward the pad.

Zerki leaned over, flipped open the pad and set
pen to paper.  She pulled away and slid the pad over.  “That’s the price.”

His mouth fell slightly open as the ruddy shades
returned.  “I really don’t have that kind of money!”

“Yes, you do.  You have a hundred times that.”

“Not on hand, I don’t!”  His eyes were wide, and
his breathing was becoming increasingly more ragged.  “I can’t pay this.  Not
even half!”

She asked, “How close can you get?”

“I have 500,000 in my safe.”

“Wow, that’s still 250,000 short.”  Drumming her
fingers on the table for a moment, she stared blankly at Reynold.  She tapped
on her lower lip.  “Tell you what.  I’ll take something as collateral until I get
the rest of your payment, preferably something I can fit in my purse.  What do
you have around here that’s worth that much?”

He grinned.  “Plenty!”  Rising to his feet, he
said, “I’ll go get your payment.  While I’m busy with that, please take the
elevator down to the lower level and have a look around.  Any one of my
palladium statuettes is easily worth your asking price.”

“Wonderful!  I’ll see you downstairs, then.”  She
stood and found her way to the lift.  A moment later, she stepped out into a
darkened room, a maze of glass boxes and heavy steel display stands.  Overhead
lights flickered on automatically, and across the way she spotted a door
marked, “NO ADMITTANCE – AUTHORIZED PERSONS ONLY.”  Quickly, she crossed the
room and pushed open the door.  Inside, she found several tables and chairs,
along with a vast assortment of tools.  She sifted through stiff brushes and
tiny hammers.

Behind her, the elevator chimed.

At last, she found it!  She plucked a heavy rod
from the table and hurried back to the gallery floor.  Reynold cast his gaze
around the room in search of Zerki, and was happy to see her approaching.  He
held up a leather briefcase and set it down on a glass surface, where he popped
open its latches.  He lifted it open, and she regarded the bed of Union credits
inside.  “Count it, if you like.”

“No, I trust you.”  She showed him what she had
plucked from the restoration room.  “I’ll take this in trade.”

He furrowed his brow.  “An atom wrench?  It’s not
worth 250,000.”

She nodded.  “I know, but mine is on the fritz,
and they’re really hard to find, these days.”

Reynold looked puzzled for a moment and wagged his
head.  “Fine, take it.  In fact, you can keep it.  I have three more in the
basement.”

“Thanks.”  She retrieved a data cube from her purse
and pressed it into his hand.  “It’s got a proximity lock that’s keyed to my
starship.  As soon as she’s out of range, you’ll get access.”  After placing
the atom wrench inside her purse, she closed and latched the briefcase.  “It’s
been a pleasure doing business with you.”

“Wait,” he nervously interjected.  “How do I know
if you’re telling the truth?”

Zerki tucked her purse under her arm before
picking up the case.  “My reputation opens doors or burns bridges, and you’re
my way in to a much wealthier class of clientele.  Do you really think I’d risk
either of those things on a double-cross for half a mil?”  She held his worried
gaze until the anxiety began to fade.

He sighed.  “I suppose not.”  For an instant, he
looked about to say something more, but the temptation was gone as quickly as
it had come.

With a curt nod, Zerki turned and headed for the
front door.  She stepped out into Varuna’s glittering night and found a taxi
straightaway.  Her heart was still pounding as she climbed in and programmed her
destination.  It was almost sunup before she had returned to her room at the
VelAquant.

·· • ··

Gavin awoke to sunlight spilling in through the
window.  He rolled onto his back and smiled dreamily, replaying the kiss in his
mind.  It wasn’t long before rustling from somewhere to his left drew his
attention, and he looked over to find a blanketed lump.  He heard Filan’s
sleepy sigh, and Takeo whispered something inaudible.  She softly answered,
“No.  I’m OK.”  With a shallow yawn, she settled onto her side, facing Gavin,
though her eyes remained closed.

When it sounded like they were both sleeping
again, Gavin slipped out from under his covers dressed in plaid pajamas.  He
crossed to the easy chair to retrieve his piled clothes, and after sorting
them, placed his shirt, pants, socks and underwear neatly upon the bed. 
“Morning, Filan,” he whispered as he noticed her looking toward him.  Her eyes
faintly glowed.

“Hey, Gavin,” she whispered in kind, and she
smiled brightly.  “Are you awake for the day?”

“I think so.  Do you need to use the bathroom at
all?  I was hoping to grab a shower.”

Still in the throes of slumber, Takeo draped his
arm over Filan’s side, and she hugged it close against her.  “No, I’m fine.”

“Awesome,” he replied and made his way to the bathroom,
where he soon took his time under the rush of warm water.  When he had
finished, he stepped back into the room wearing a towel, with his bedclothes in
hand.  He lobbed them onto the easy chair and approached the clothing he had
set out for himself.  He dressed unhurriedly into a dark, button-up tropical
shirt and a pair of sandy-brown pants.  As he pulled his socks over his feet,
Filan whispered, “You look nice.”

“Thanks,” he replied and regarded her with a
grateful smile.  He shoved his feet into his shoes and said, “I’m heading
down.  I think I saw a coffee bar in the food court when we got here.”

“Does Takeo like coffee?”

“He does.  Do you?”

She sneered slightly.  “I hate coffee.”

He chuckled.  “So do I, but I still drink it. 
Actually, for as much cream and sugar as I put in, I’m not sure it still
qualifies as coffee.”  Leaning forward, he set to tying his shoes.  “You want
something else, instead?  Tea, maybe, or a dessert drink?”

“No thanks.  I’m waiting for breakfast.”

“Cool, cool.  I’ll be back soon.”  Gavin finished
tying his shoes and stood up.  He stuffed his wallet and keys into his pockets
and exited the room.