That she’d deferred to the Advisor/Observer irritated something deep in Derek’s chest. Yes, Begay was the senior Corporate official. But to spurn a Taglioni? What was the woman trying to prove? What was her game? What percentage did she play by antagonizing him and throwing down the gauntlet . . .
Stop it. You’re not that guy anymore.
Derek fixed on Begay’s face, realized that the man looked stricken. On the verge of tears, Begay said, “Thank you, Supervisor. A lot of us, well, we thought we’d never see this day.”
Michaela, too, was looking shaken. Her mouth was working, a glitter of incipient tears behind her eyes. At the moment she seemed too overcome for words.
When Aguila finally looked his way, Dek stepped forward, dropped his bags, and offered his hand. “Derek Taglioni, Supervisor. Good to see you again. Allow me to introduce Michaela Hailwood, in charge of the Maritime Unit and our lead scientist.”
She ignored his hand, a mere quiver of distaste at the corner of her mouth. A thousand questions lay behind the look she gave him.
He tried not to be distracted by the tracery of scars across her face. Oh, yes. She remembered that last meeting. Her blue gaze seemed to shoot through him like lasers. “Welcome, sir. I hope the vicissitudes of your journey weren’t unbearable.”
Derek felt an old part of himself bristle at the reserve she tried to keep from her voice. She still loathed him. That brought him no little amusement. And yes, had he stepped down from the shuttle ten years ago . . .
Have I changed so much?
Aguila had shifted her attention to Michaela, saying, “Welcome to Donovan.” She had no trouble offering the woman her hand in a firm shake.
Mosadek—a beneficent smile on his lips—said, “I look forward to getting to know you all. Port Authority is delighted to welcome you.”
Dek could hear the buildup of people behind him as the Maritime Unit came flooding down the stairs. Children were crying, people wondering at the smell of the air, the feel of sunlight on their skin and ground underfoot. He could hear complaints about the gravity.
Grabbing up his luggage, he stepped off to the side, happy to be out of the limelight.
In a loud voice, the alien-eyed Perez called, “Welcome to Donovan. I’m Security Officer Talina Perez. If you’ll all follow me, my associate, Corporal Abu Sassi, has a registration and orientation set up in the cafeteria.”
Aguila turned to the crowd. “Please stay close. We don’t want anyone to stray off on this side of the fence. Once you are in the cafeteria and have completed orientation, your Corporate status will be determined. Temporary housing will be assigned, and we’ll get you fed.” A beat. “With real food!”
That brought a round of happy cries and applause.
As Perez lined them out, Dek matched Aguila’s step, asking, “Is the fence to keep people in, or something out?”
“Out.” Aguila shot him a measuring glance. “Sir, forgive me for being blunt, but Donovan is not Solar System, and Port Authority is not Transluna. In the next few moments you are going to hear yourself referred to as ‘soft meat,’ a ‘Skull,’ and who knows what else? The terms are not disrespectful, but a reference to your having been aboard a ship. It’s a difficult request, but if you would be so kind as to grant the locals a bit of leeway, I would sincerely appreciate it.”
Derek tried to decipher the message she was sending him. Obviously, a warning, but not even Miko’s woman would dare hint to another Taglioni that he not behave like an ass.
They were nearing the gate, and behind the fence he could see the crowd, all dressed in insane costumes of leather, boots, worn coveralls, and looking like ruffians from a VR fantasy. The number of weapons alone should have sent prickles down his back. Would have, once upon a time. What kind of lunatic gave weapons to the common people? They couldn’t be trusted.
Is that what living two decks up from the Unreconciled for all these years has done? It’s left me numb to physical threat?
The gate was a big thing, ten meters wide, fifteen tall, but the smaller “man gate” was set into the side. His Donovanian escort led the way through, and Derek followed them into Port Authority proper.
He returned greetings called from the cheerful Donovanians and delighted in the fact that though they carried them, none were waving guns around. Gravel crunched under his feet. Gravel? Not paved?
The domes to either side appeared old, weathered, streaked with what looked like fungus. Here and there he could see pieces of cannibalized equipment, much of it sitting up on blocks. The sunlight seemed harsher, the sky a deep shade of turquoise that hinted of lapis.
Stopping before the double doors at the cafeteria dome, Aguila said, “Sir, rather than attend the orientation, how about you and I get some things straight on our own?”
“Listen, Supervisor, given our last meeting, I don’t blame you for the chilly reception. Just for the record, I’m not here to cause you any grief. Not after what I’ve been through.”
Skepticism filled her laser-blue eyes. “Actually, nothing would delight me more than to leave you on the other side of the fence. But I’ll tell you what you need to know to stay alive. Call it the Aguila crash course.”
“And where are we going to do that? Your office?”
“Hardly.” She barked a laugh. “Follow me. And don’t worry about the rest of your luggage. They’ll send it to a dome. Two Spot will tell me where.”
“This is it.” He raised his bags and gun case. “Well, there are a couple of containers in cargo. An airplane. Some other toys. But this is all I’ve got.”
“You’re kidding.”
“It’s all that’s left.”
For a long moment she tried to dissect him with her cutting gaze. “Whatever game you’re—”
“No game. I don’t have any left to play.”
He watched the others as they passed through the doors into the cafeteria dome. All those expectant faces, men and women, their children. People he’d known so intimately for all those horrifying years. And here and there a crewman. Including Koikosan, with whom he’d worked hydroponics. How had she managed to snag a seat downplanet?
“Long story, Supervisor. Call it a beautiful terror, a wondrous nightmare. A numbing epiphany.”
She was giving him that you’re-more-disgusting-than-shit-on-my-shoe look again. “Let’s just get this over with as painlessly as possible so I can be shut of you.”
She led the way down what looked like the main avenue. Domes were interspersed with stone-and-wood buildings of local manufacture. He saw signs proclaiming ASSAY OFFICE, GUNSMITH, GLASSWORKS, and FOUNDRY. The street was empty of traffic. The town’s entire population, it appeared, was back at the cafeteria and shuttle field.
“Not even a stray dog,” he mused.
“According to the records, dogs rarely lasted more than a couple of months before Donovan got them. The invertebrates took out the cats even faster.”
Derek had started to pant. His feet heavy, the two bags like sodden weights. He could feel the strain in his shoulders, wondered if they’d be pulled out of joint. When had he gotten so soft?
Fortunately she led him to a dome a block down. The place looked old; oddly matched benches sat in front of a double door. A faded sign proclaimed: THE BLOODY DRINK.
Derek glanced at it, then at the I’ll-take-no-shit-off-you Supervisor as she opened the door.
What the hell have I gotten myself into?
12
Kalico took the chair to the left of Talina’s. Indicated that Taglioni seat himself on the stool generally occupied by Shig when he chose to join her. Or sometimes by Step Allenovich, the part-time biologist and security third.
Puffing to catch his breath, a sheen of sweat on his too-pale skin, Taglioni dropped his bags and the expensive gun case on the fitted stone slabs. The guy was way out of shape, and Donovan’s grav
ity was a couple of points higher than that provided by the ship’s rotation.
He looked sallow, half-starved, and he probably didn’t have a clue that he smelled bad. But then, after ten years in the same ship, they all did. Hard to believe this was the same man as that foul-mouthed maggot back in Transluna.
“What is this place?” Taglioni asked, glancing around at the tables, the benches, the stairway that led up to ground level, and the high dome overhead.
“It’s called Inga’s. The local tavern. And this is Inga herself.” Kalico gestured to the big blonde woman who made her way down the bar. “Do treat her respectfully. Or not, if you want a quick one-way trip up to a grave in the cemetery.”
“What’ll it be?” Inga demanded in a tone that obviously shocked Taglioni’s patrician sensibilities.
Kalico indicated Taglioni. “Meet Derek Taglioni. Fresh in from Solar System. Sir, this is Inga Lock, master brewer, distiller, and winemaker. She’s also owner of Donovan’s finest and only tavern.”
“My pleasure.” Inga shook Taglioni’s hand. From the guy’s expression, it looked like she was crushing his bones. “What’ll you have?”
“Um . . .” Taglioni looked suddenly unsure. “It’s been so long.”
“You name it, we got it.”
Kalico asked, “Sir, do you prefer wine or beer or spirits?”
She watched the corners of his mouth quiver. “Something mild, I suppose.”
“I recommend the blond ale,” Kalico said. “Me? I’ll have the new-cask whiskey.”
Inga inclined her head. “He on your tab?”
“Yeah. You eaten, sir?”
“Ration this morning.” Taglioni replied, a curious insecurity growing behind his eyes.
“Two plates of the lunch special.” Kalico added.
“You got it, Supervisor.” Slapping her bar towel over her shoulder, Inga went bundling off down her bar, bellowing, “Two lunch specials!” at the top her lungs. As if she’d need to, given that Kalico and Taglioni were the only people in the place.
Kalico considered the man next to her, watched the interplay of emotion behind his too-perfect face. He was still handsome, striking actually, with his yellow-green designer eyes and sandy hair. “I doubt you would recall, but you and I have actually met before, sir. Several times. The last was at a Board reception in the Heiman Hotel. You were rather intoxicated. Knew I was accompanying Miko. Offered your own—”
“Loud, lewd, and vulgar offer of . . . um, companionship.” He finished, followed by a crestfallen look and a humorless laugh.
In a weary voice he said, “I am deeply and sincerely apologetic. Not that I remember the totality of the occasion. I’d like to blame my behavior on the liquor or whatever mood-altering substance was dulling my brain. Unfortunately, I can’t, knowing that it was the man himself who proved himself a rude boor.”
Kalico blinked. Of all the . . . Was this really Derek Taglioni? “You’re not exactly what I expected, sir.”
In a soft voice, he said, “Can we dispense with this ‘sir’ thing? At least for the moment.”
“Would you prefer that I call you Mr. Taglioni?”
“Most call me Dek.”
Dek? Kalico arched an eyebrow. “Okay . . . Dek. An apology from a Taglioni? Whatever game you’re playing—”
“I meant what I said. No game. After what I’ve been through . . . well, I’m just sorry for the way I behaved back then. I mean that.”
“Just like that?”
He seemed to fidget, and for an instant, gave her a crafty sidelong glance. “You’re not exactly what I was expecting, either. Back on Transluna, you were in the game for keeps. You’re . . . let’s say, a little different.”
“Welcome to Donovan. If you survive here for long, you’ll get the humor in that. Start with why you were aboard that bucket of air in the first place.”
“You are still in my cousin’s service?”
“Miko helped wrangle me this appointment. One of my tasks upon arrival here four years ago was to ascertain your whereabouts and status. Obviously, if Ashanti never arrived, neither had you, so I forgot about it.”
“Back on Transluna . . . Can we just say I was angry and feeling slighted? In a fit of irrational and puerile rage, I ran away from home. Thought I’d come to Donovan and make a name for myself.”
“You say that with a good deal of regret.” Real or faked?
“Ashanti reinverted symmetry and popped back into the universe way off course.” Taglioni’s lips twitched. “Thought we were lost. Not enough fuel. Surely you’ve read Miguel’s report. He told you the God’s awful truth. Damn noble fool thinks he’s going to get the ax for what he did to the transportees. Supervisor, I was there. At that time, at that moment, the smartest thing Miguel could have done was seal the transportees into Deck Three.”
“No other choice?”
“Looking back with twenty-twenty hindsight, he could have taken the Freelander option. But no. No choice.” Taglioni shook his head, eyes fixed on some internal hell. “Oh, if he’d let the transportees take the ship, under some freak of fate Ashanti might have arrived here under the ship’s AI. But it would have been filled with corpses.”
“Like Freelander.”
“Right. All dead. Even with Miguel’s actions, it was a close-cut thing. For nearly six months it was nip and tuck as to whether we lived or succumbed to starvation. When it finally became clear that we were going to make it, I weighed eighty-nine pounds.” He smiled into infinity. “That sort of thing changes a man.”
“What about these others? This Maritime Unit?”
“They got the same ration as the crew and I did. Their director, Michaela Hailwood, she got them out of Deck Three before the shit came down. Kept them together. They’re supposed to start the first oceanographic survey of Cap III.” Taglioni’s brow lined. “It’s like three worlds up there in Ashanti. There’s the Maritime Unit and there’s crew. But no one knows the Unreconciled. They’re locked away in their own private hell.”
“Okay, Dek”—awkward calling him that—“let’s step off the record.”
“Seriously? Does anyone really go OTR?”
She chuckled at his skepticism. “You haven’t lost all of the Taglioni wits. But, yes. We do. On Donovan. What’s your call on what to do with the Irredenta?”
“Heard you had someplace where you could isolate them.”
“We do.”
“Hope it’s far away. ’Cause if you’re putting them here, inside this fence, I’m shuttling back up to Ashanti the moment they’re off board.”
“See, this is the thing I don’t get: If they’ve been sealed on that deck for seven years, how do you have any idea what kind of people they really are?”
His haunted look was more eloquent than his words. “Because I worked hydroponics. I saw the remains that slid down that chute from Deck Three. You putting them here, in Port Authority? I want to be outside that fence when you do. And I’m still beating feet into the hinterlands as fast as I can.”
Derek Taglioni worked hydroponics? Was she seriously supposed to believe that? But then, he carried his own bags. Claimed they were all he owned. “As soft meat you wouldn’t last a day out there.”
“Wouldn’t last a day in here with the Unreconciled, either. I’d rather be eaten by your local monsters, thank you.”
Inga thumped one of the handblown beer mugs onto the battered chabacho-wood bar in front of Taglioni. It was filled to the rim with golden ale. She set Kalico’s whiskey in front of her. “Food’s coming up. Good news is that you didn’t have any orders in front of you.”
And then she was gone.
Kalico lifted her whiskey. “To Donovan.”
Watched Derek raise the ale. “To Donovan.”
He took a sniff and closed his eyes. Then the man touched the glass to his lips, suck
ed a small taste. A look of other-worldly transcendence filled his face. Then he took another drink, deeper. Made a moaning sound of ecstasy down in his throat.
Kalico signaled Inga for another ale as he drained his mug and sighed in contentment.
“I remember exactly what you’re experiencing,” Kalico told him. “And that was after only two years stuck in Turalon.”
Then came the plates. Hot, steaming, and smelling of crest meat, beans, peppers, and recado with a side of fresh cherries and blueberries. She watched the man eat like it was the fulfillment of dreams.
This was Derek Taglioni. She’d never forget the eyes, the dimple in the chin. But where he’d been arrogant and vile, the guy was now like a pastiche of hard and soft, clever and mellow. It was the damaged-but-strong part of him that intrigued her. Still, she remembered that old Derek Taglioni. The one who’d wanted to “fuck Miko’s squeeze inside and out.” Was that man truly gone? Or was this just his quetzal side, working under a most convincing camouflage?
Never trust a Taglioni.
When he’d finished, she asked, “What the hell are you doing here? Seriously. With everything you had back in Solar System, you left because of a temper tantrum?”
He ran thin fingers through his sandy-blonde hair, a bitter smile on his sculpted lips. Then he turned those yellow-green eyes her way and said, “I was going to prove that they’d misjudged me. That when it came to guts and daring, I could tame an entire world.”
“And?”
“Something funny happened during the months when we didn’t know if any of us were going to live out the week . . . if Ashanti was going to be our tomb. That man who’d been Derek Taglioni was slowly leeched away. For a while, I thought I could see him go. Sort of like a faint dye, swirling around and disappearing down the drain every time I washed. When I started working hydroponics, I looked carefully in the vats. Tried to see if anything of him was left. All I ever saw was brown goo.”
In her ear bud, Kalico heard Two Spot announce: “The alert is about to sound. This is a drill. Repeat: This is a drill.”
Unreconciled Page 9