Diamond Star

by Catherine Asaro

  Zachary stood in his office and squinted at the stats floating in the air. Even his clothes had holoscreens woven into them, mimicking the charts in miniature. The graphs constantly changed as they took new data from the mesh.

  "It's not possible," he told Ricki. "We never released 'Diamond Star' as a single."

  "What, you aren't happy it made the chart?" she asked. Honestly, Zachary could drive her crazy sometimes. She was standing on the other side of his glossy black desk, watching him through the graphs.

  "What 'made the chart'?" He waved his hand at the holos. "It debuted at the extraordinary rank of three hundred and-gasp-three."

  "Yeah, but look at 'Sapphire Clouds.' " Ricki motioned at one of the graphs. "It might crack the top one hundred next week."

  "Or it might drop into oblivion. It's hardly moving."

  "It's the turtle," she decided.

  He peered at her through the translucent graphs. "Ricki, sweetheart, could you just for once try to make sense?"

  She wondered what bee he had in his britches. "You're in a mood."

  "Tackman got fined again for neuro-amps." He squinted at Del's graphs. "At least Mind Mix's chart-chess makes sense. The band comes out like a fission-fueled rocket and stays at the top."

  Ricki studied the graphs floating between her and Zachary. "Do you remember that ancient fable about the race between the turtle and the rabbit? The rabbit jumped out of the starting gate and got so far ahead, it figured the turtle could never catch up. So the flipping silly rabbit took a nap. Meanwhile the turtle plodded on and won the race."

  Zachary cocked an eyebrow at her. "I doubt our high-strung Mister Arden would appreciate the comparison."

  Ricki wished Zachary would get over Del challenging him on that business about the accent. No, Del didn't grovel to the tech-mech king. So what? It was good for Zachary. Besides, Zachary cared more about profits than Del's moods. "If Del breaks into the top hundred, that's a great sign."

  "His songs move too slowly. A bullet that boy is not."

  "People need time to get used to him." Ricki thought for a moment. "We should send him on tour again. It's been a few months since his last one."

  Zachary gave an incredulous laugh. "After that fiasco? You have to be kidding."

  Ricki put her fists on her hips. "It wasn't a fiasco. Yeah, he plummeted at first. But he picked himself up. And he's had four months to practice since then. With some planning, he could do a good tour. We could start with smaller venues. See what happens."

  Zachary glanced at the graph for "Sapphire Clouds." "He does have more staying power than a lot of new acts."

  "Just wait until people see him. Look at the Baltimore chart." Ricki flicked a few holicons in the air, and the graph changed to one with a steeper blue line. "See? 'Sapphire Clouds' is number eight." When Zachary raised an eyebrow, she said, "Yeah, it's a little chart, but it shows what he can do. People there know him. Del up close and personal is strong stuff." She could attest to that far too well. He drove her crazy, never able to decide if he loved or hated her. He would say they had to talk, but if she came to his apartment, he would seduce her into the bedroom instead.

  "Oh, all right," Zachary said. "Put him on tour." He smiled slightly. "That eff-you attitude of his can be entertaining when it's in his songs instead of directed at me."

  Ricki smirked at him. "He says what you wish you could tell all those hightowners who piss you off."

  "Someone has to deal with the investors," he grumbled. "I'm just glad I don't have to do it as often as some of the other VPs."

  "Have you ever heard Del's song 'Carnelians'?"

  "I don't think so. It's not on his vid, is it?"

  She shook her head. "It's beautiful, at least the version I heard. But he left it off. Mac thought it was too political."

  Zachary's tone sharpened. "Prime-Nova isn't a damn soapbox. Put in politics and it kills sales."

  Ricki shrugged. "I can't make heads or flipping pails of the song."

  "Heads or what?" Zachary asked, laughing. "Pails?"

  "Yeah, that's right." Really, why were people always making fun of the way she talked? Her singers were the lyricists, not her. " 'Carnelians' is definitely the eff-you genre. But who is he flipping off? 'I'll never kneel beneath your hightown stare.' What does that mean?"

  "Maybe he doesn't like rich people. Probably why Mac didn't want it on the vid. It might antagonize some wealthy supporter."

  "I suppose." She had asked Del, but he never gave her a real answer. "He gets tight-lipped about that one." She smiled, thinking of far more entertaining things he did with those lips.

  Zachary was watching her. "Don't mess with the act."

  Her good mood cooled. "My personal life is my business."

  "Not if it interferes with your judgment." He waved his hand through the graph, and it disappeared, replaced by a holo of Del standing frozen on a stage in Philadelphia. "Like convincing me to let him stay on the Mind Mix tour."

  "I was right, wasn't I?" Ricki flicked through holos until one appeared of Del tossing his mike high in the air. He grabbed it with a flourish as it came down and wailed into it without the slightest pause in his song, while people in the audience screamed and clapped. "See? And that bit he did on the Atlantic City-Time Hour caused quite a hum." It didn't surprise her that the buzz had been more about Del's looks than his vocal cords. Women loved to watch him, and his snarling defiance appealed to the men. Del was the only one who had no clue about his smoldering sexuality. Which suited Ricki just fine.

  "People like him despite the flaws in his shows," she said. "They want to hear him. Not razzly-dazzly whatever. Because he sings the way people used to, when all you had was your voice and a few primitive instruments."

  "I suppose." Zachary didn't look convinced.

  "We should release "Diamond Star" as a single." As long as she was asking for the universe, she might as well go all the way.

  "Why?" He sounded genuinely curious. "It's too experimental. I'm surprised it showed up on the charts at all."

  "Parts of it are strange," Ricki agreed. "But the lyrics are easier to understand. 'Diamond Star' is his most upbeat song. Nothing to upset the censors. Suppose we use the first two verses and choruses without all those weird firecracker pops. Then the morpher solos. Then jump to Del singing the end. It would cut it down to less than four minutes."

  "Maybe." Zachary brought up a menu in place of the graphs, and "Diamond Star" played in a ripple of notes. The music started like an acoustic guitar, then morphed into a wave of noise that didn't match a single classical instrument. Although it all came out of Randall's stringer, it sounded like several electro-optic guitars layered together.

  Del's voice caressed the song:

  Angel, be my diamond star

  Before my darkness goes too far

  Splinter through my endless night

  Lightening my darkling sight

  He wailed the chorus, going up and down on the word diamond:

  You're, you're, you're, you're

  A diamond, a diamond, a diamond star

  Then into the second verse:

  Brighter than the crystal caves

  Sunlight glancing on the waves

  Swirling dance upon my heart

  Longing while we're held apart

  "See, right there," Ricki said as Del sang the chorus. "Just have his voice, Jud's cello morpher, and Anne's drums. After the chorus, play Randall's guitar solo and cut to the end."

  Zachary nodded, his gaze unfocused as he listened. He flicked more holos, and the music jumped to the bridge at the end:

  Take it slow, a daring chance

  Swaying in a timeless dance

  Shimmering radiance above

  Softening this lost man's love

  Then back to the chorus, Del singing "diamond star" over and over, his voice soaring with erotic purity.

  "Huh," Zachary said. "I see what you mean. It might work." He regarded her. "Cut out the words crystal caves, t
hough."

  Ricki could just imagine Del's reaction to that idea. "I think we should leave it."

  "Why? What the bloody hell is a crystal cave anyway? It makes no sense. The song won't suffer if he takes it out. He can say, I don't know, 'brighter than blistering days' or something."

  Ricki almost gagged. And he thought she had a problem with words. "That's real poetic, Zach."

  "Yeah, well, it isn't a drug reference."

  "Neither is crystal caves." Before Zachary could object, she added, "We'll promote the song as marriage-proposal pop. Convince people they want to get engaged to this music. Give a diamond to the star in your life. Then you need the crystal caves. Because of course, that symbolizes the diamond ring."

  "A cave?" Zachary gave a snort of laughter. "That's even wonkier than your argument for why Jenny Summerland shouldn't take the phrase 'let me come' out of her latest."

  Ricki threw up her hands. "Zach, honestly, don't be such a flipping Puritan. She was saying 'let me come home.' Not 'let me have an orgasm.' "

  "Yeah, sure." He flicked off the holo of Del. "Fine. He can keep crystal caves. Just make sure the wedding thing is clear in the ads." With a scowl, he added, "And don't tell Mister Angst Arden we're chopping it up."

  Ricki shook her head. "Can't do that, Zach. His contract requires we get his okay on any substantial alterations."

  "What substantial? It's the same song. Just better."

  "I have to tell him. To protect ourselves."

  He crossed his arms. "I don't want to hear any more of our rock Rafael's complaints."

  "Hey, that's good. The Rafael of rock." Ideas jumped in Ricki's mind. "The surly angel. I can work with that."

  "It's been done."

  "Not for years. People don't even remember what was hot two minutes ago." She gave him her most reassuring look. "And don't worry, I'll deal with Del."

  "Yeah, well, I hope so."

  So did Ricki. She wasn't anywhere near as sure about Del as she claimed. He had an odd attitude toward the song, as if he wanted to hide it from everyone. Those light, pleasing lyrics meant something different to him, she just didn't know what.

  Someone shook Del's world. Literally. He lay sprawled on his back in a meadow with his arms thrown wide. Bubbles floated above him. They were supposed to pop and release glitter, which acted like pollen, but it didn't happen. He needed to learn how to reprogram this virt. He wished he could connect his mind straight into it, so it could take what he wanted from his brain.

  The land vibrated again. Puzzled, he lifted his head. Nothing looked wrong. Bagger-bubble plants grew all around him, stalks tall and thick, sacs blue or red. He got up and walked through the field, enjoying the breezes. Home. He missed it. He would go for a visit. It wasn't going to be easy, though. His family would ask how he spent his time. He could hear them. Holo-rock? What is that? He wasn't even successful. No, damn it, he wasn't a failure. "Sapphire Clouds" was almost in the top hundred. Almost. Not that they'd care. They didn't know holo-rock charts from geology-rock charts.

  The crops around him suddenly wavered and shook. Del glared at the fields. "What the blazes is wrong?"

  The fake Del appeared. "Someone wants your attention."

  "So why not send me a message?" Del asked. "Through you."

  "You locked out communications," his sim-self told him.

  "Oh." Del had forgotten about that. "End sim."

  Blackness descended, and he slowly reoriented. He wasn't standing, he was lying in a recliner. Lifting off his helmet, he squinted in the brightness.

  "Thank God!" Jud was leaning over him, his hands gripped on Del's shoulders. "What the hell was wrong with you?"

  Del blinked up at him. "I was just in the virt."

  "For two hours. We were going to rehearse, remember?"

  "Rehearse," Del mumbled. "That's right." Sitting up slowly, he set the helmet on the console. Then he rubbed his eyes.

  "Ricki left a message," Jud said. "We're going on tour again."

  "We are?" Del pulled himself out of the recliner. He felt sluggish. Tired. He wanted to go back into the virt.

  "Come on." Jud tugged at his arm. "You need to get dressed so we can meet Randall and Anne."

  "Oh. Yeah." Del walked toward his room. Then he stopped and looked back. "Jud?"

  His roommate smiled, his face framed by dreadlocks that brushed his shoulders, with silver beads in them today. "You look like a little kid when you're half awake."

  Little kid. If he only knew. "Do you know how to get a bliss-node?"

  Jud's smile vanished. "Damn it, keep away from that garbage."

  "Why?"

  "You could get hurt. You can't take chances like that."

  "I can take care of myself." Del clenched up inside. Jud sounded just like his family, suffocating him. He strode to his bedroom and tripped over a pile of clothes. Frustrated, he scooped them up and tossed them onto his bed.

  "Hey." Jud came over to him. "I didn't mean anything." He watched Del as if he were a combustible substance about to ignite.

  Del raked his hand through his hair. His arm was shaking. Lowering it, he stared at his trembling hand. What was wrong with him?

  "You need to eat," Jud said.

  Food. As soon as the thought registered, hunger pangs stabbed at Del. "I can't believe I forgot to eat." He rubbed his eyes. "Okay, so maybe I'm spending a little too much time in the suit."

  "A 'little,' yeah." Jud's grin came back. "Come on. Let's rehearse. We're going back on the road!"

  Del knew he should be glad Prime-Nova was giving him another chance. But he didn't feel up to traveling. It also meant he might not see Ricki for weeks at a time, and he had never settled matters with her. He felt guilty about his ambivalence, especially given the way she was supporting him with Zachary. But sleeping with her was easier than the proverbial "relationship talk."

  Maybe Mac was right about the playboy thing. In his youth, Del had been drowning in his own insecurities, stupidly intent on proving his manhood. The strains of "Emeralds" drifted through his mind:

  They waited in whispering reeds

  Green within, predators without

  But my brother intervened

  He answered my crying shout

  His brother. Althor. So many decades had passed since that night Althor had protected him. When Del had been fourteen and Althor fifteen, his big brother had saved him from being beaten senseless and gods only knew what else. Del clenched his fist and kicked a soccer ball by his door. It rolled across his bedroom into the opposite wall. Althor was dead, a casualty of the war, tortured by the Traders and then executed.

  Jud was still watching him. "What's wrong?"

  "Nothing." Del couldn't confide in him. He couldn't confide in anyone. How could he have friends when his life was a lie? He spoke softly. "I want to go home."

  "You should, then," Jud said. "Take a break after the tour, before your next vid."

  "Yeah. After the tour." He couldn't leave yet. He just had to make it through a few more months.

  Just a little more time.

  XII: Diamond Rise

  In its eleventh week on the North American charts, "Sapphire Clouds" dropped to one hundred and twenty-four, never breaking into the coveted top one hundred. The original version of "Diamond Star" moved up ten places to number two hundred and ninety-three.

  "I don't understand," Del told Ricki. "Why change the song? 'Diamond Star' hit the charts without even an official release."

  "You don't want debuts at three hundred." Ricki lay with him in her sumptuous floater bed, with fluffy white quilts bunched up around them. Even in the dim light, the white furniture in her room shimmered. So did the white carpets and white walls. It was a gorgeous room for a gorgeous woman who was, at the moment, pissed off. Del had no idea why, and she thought she was hiding it, but he knew. She wanted to slap him across that glossy room of hers.

  "If you cut up the song," Del said, "it takes out the most interesting parts."

&n
bsp; "We don't want interesting." Ricki turned with her back to him. "We want it to sell."

  He stretched out behind her, his front to her back, and put his arm around her waist. "What's the matter?"

  "Nothing." Her body remained stiff. She had responded when they made love, but now she was like a board. Even when she stayed in bed with him, she seemed to leave.

  "You're mad at me," Del said.

  "No, I'm not." She rolled onto her back. "Let's watch an m-cast."

  "Here?" On Lyshriol, he kept tech out of his bedroom. Sure, they had it for comfort, warmth, all that. But it was discreet. Then he had come here and discovered what he was missing. But he didn't want it invading their private time. He could think of better things to do in bed with Ricki than watch an m-cast.

  She was already touching a panel on the nightstand, though. A wall across the room glowed, and a holo appeared in front of it, the image of a woman with metallic blue streaks in her blond hair.

  " . . . see my latest holo-movie," she purred. "Tomorrow night, right here, on the Midwest Channel."

  "That ought to be your channel," Ricki said sourly. "You could commune with all the other small-town boys."

  Del was getting angry. "Are you going to tell me what's wrong or what?"

  She ignored him. "Jacques, give me the Northern Baltimore chat channel."

  "Certainly," a sensual male voice answered.

  "Who the hell is Jacques?" Del said. He knew perfectly well it was her EI, but he could do without Jacques in bed with them.

  "What?" she asked, all innocence. "You don't like my house EI? What a pity. He's such a good EI."

  "For flaming sake, Ricki."

  "Oh, look at that," she said sweetly. The holo across the room re-formed into a cozy café with two young women seated at a table. Two very familiar women.

  Talia and Kendra.