Diamond Star

by Catherine Asaro

  As the Imperator, his brother Kelric was the greatest defense the Imperialate had against the Traders. For all that Del found it humiliating to have the "little" brother he had once babysat treat him as a defiant youth, he knew perfectly well Kelric offered far more to their people than Del would ever have to give.

  Del longed to do something his mother admired. He wanted her to be proud of him. He knew she loved him, but he also felt her disappointment. Maybe it hit her so hard because he had turned away from the life of the Dalvador Bard, which had defined his father.

  For the past year, since the Allieds had taken Del away from Lyshriol, no one had acted as Bard. Del was supposed to ask one of his brothers to do it, but he considered Chaniece a better choice. She was the best singer of their siblings still on Lyshriol, and she enjoyed the Dalvador music. She also served as guardian of the Valdoria estate and lands, and she had no desire to leave them, which was perfect for the Bard.

  Del knew his family wanted him to assume the title. He had acted as Bard those first months after his father's death. He wished he could bear the thought of going home and carrying on his father's legacy. But if he forced himself to kill his dreams, he would die from a starvation of the spirit.

  The voices of two women floated from behind a curtain by the stage, interrupting his thoughts.

  "—don't see why everyone thinks he's so cute," one said. "He's not."

  "I think he is," the other said. "I've always liked guys with brown hair. And he has a nice nose."

  Del smiled, wondering if the subject of their attention knew he had a nice nose.

  The first woman snorted. "He looks like a girl."

  "What, a guy has to be Mister Blocky Chin to turn you on?" the other said, laughing. "I like his pretty face."

  Del was about to joke to Cameron about the poor fellow under discussion when the first woman said, "That would make a great ad. Del Arden, the prettiest man in rock."

  Del stopped smiling. Pretty? Pretty? He was not pretty.

  Cameron laughed at his side. "Don't take it so personally. Not everyone has the same tastes."

  Del glared at him. "Flowers are pretty. Not men. And my hair is red."

  A woman came around the curve of the hallway. Startled, Del stopped stock-still, blocking the way. She was blond and buxom, dressed in a lacy pink dress that clung to her voluptuous curves. She looked like a younger version of Ricki. He didn't recognize her from any crew, and she shouldn't be here otherwise, but he doubted he had met every stagehand.

  The girl smiled at Del. Remembering what the other woman had said about his masculinity, or supposed lack of it, he just tensed. Maybe this one thought he was too pretty, too.

  "Hello." She sounded uncertain. "Is something wrong?"

  Del mentally shook himself. "No! Not at all." He flashed his best smile. His best masculine smile. "I was trying to figure out why I hadn't seen you. Because I know I'd remember."

  "I remember you," she said softly. "You sing like an angel."

  "I've no halo, believe me," he said. He wished Cameron would go away.

  "Oh, it's there," she teased. "A little tarnished. They're more interesting that way, don't you think?"

  Del couldn't help but laugh. "What's your name, mystery girl?"

  "Delilah."

  "Are you on the stage crew, Delilah?" Gods, she was sexy in that flimsy lace. "Taking apart sets is a dull business."

  She pursed her mouth. "Did you have something else in mind?"

  Del knew he should say no. He thought of Ricki. Then he thought of waking up alone and how it hurt so damn much. She wouldn't talk to him about it. He questioned whether she would ever let him close enough to understand. He wasn't certain they even had a relationship.

  "Well, I don't know—" Del started to say.

  The girl stepped closer. "You don't?"

  Del met her gaze and thought, Why the hell not? He was lonely, and she was lovely and willing. But gods, he was tired of Cameron knowing his private moments. He had to get rid of the Marine.

  "Meet me here in half an hour," Del murmured.

  "If you're not afraid to come back," Delilah said.

  He smiled at her. "Come back, and I'll show you."

  Her lashes lowered seductively over her eyes. "Promises, promises." Then she sashayed on, down the hall.

  Del watched her go, her hips swaying, her long legs round and firm. Letting out a breath, he headed the other way, wondering how he would ditch Cameron.

  It took Del too long to give Cameron the slip. When he finally returned to where he had asked Delilah to meet him, she was gone. Oh, well. Maybe she wouldn't have liked him anyway.

  A rustle came from a side hall. Puzzled, Del went over and looked down it. Someone in a pink dress was going around a distant corner. It was hard to see because it was dark except for a spillover from this hallway.

  "Delilah?" Del went down the hall. At the junction where it turned left, he stared down a new corridor. It was even darker, but he thought he saw a woman in a pink dress.

  He followed her into the shadows. "Hey Delilah, is that you?"

  Darkness closed around Del. He couldn't imagine why Delilah would go down here. He was about to turn back when someone grasped his arm from behind and swung him toward the wall.

  "Hey." Del tried to pull away. "Cut that—"

  He grunted as someone hit him across the back, knocking him into the wall. He barely turned his head fast enough to keep his nose from cracking against the concrete. A nozzle pressed his neck and a hiss whined in his ear.

  "Don't!" He tried to turn, but someone large held him in place. A stink of sweat made him gag. His legs buckled and he slid down the wall, his palms dragging along it.

  "You're such sweet mischief," a woman scolded nearby.

  The world turned black.

  Del lay on his back, swimming into consciousness, saturated with pleasure. Ricki had never gone down on him like this before. He wanted it to go on forever.

  A sour note intruded into his bliss. Ricki couldn't be here. She had walked out on him after he had bared his heart to her. Hadn't he been at the Coliseum . . .

  Del cracked open his eyes. Dizziness hit him even though he hadn't moved, and his vision blurred the way it did when he was drilled. He tried to think through what had happened, but his mind was sluggish, and blurred with pleasure.

  He was lying in a dimly lit room on a mattress on the floor. Someone had opened his shirt, baring his chest. She had unfastened his pants, too, and her blond head moved up and down as she pleasured him, her hands cupping him underneath while her tongue did its wonders. It was Delilah, not Ricki.

  Confusion washed over him. He should tell her to stop. But ah, gods, he never wanted it to end. Maybe this was her inspired way of apologizing for whoever had hit him. Had to find out . . . what was going on . . . he sank into the haze of lust. All too soon, it turned into an ecstasy that burst over him. With a groan, he lifted his hips and thrust deeper into her mouth. As he spent himself, he collapsed back, and dizziness swept him into sleep.

  Del rose to consciousness like a swimmer through the ocean. It took a while, but gradually his thoughts formed. Someone had whacked him and shot him with an air syringe.

  He lifted his head. "Delilah?" His voice rasped.

  She was lying between his legs, her head resting on his thigh, her eyes closed, one hand under her cheek, the other resting on his other thigh. His vision went double for a moment, creating two Delilahs.

  "Come here, sweetheart," Del murmured. Despite the bizarre situation, he felt a rush of affection for this woman who had given him such pleasure. And she hadn't left him to wake up alone.

  She lifted her head, her face framed by silky blond hair. "Hi," she said softly.

  Del reached for her, and just that slight amount made his head swim. She slid up his body, into his embrace, and he sank onto his back with his arms around her. She stretched out against him, her arm across his chest, and her leg tangled with his, wearing noth
ing except lace panties and a soft little top that felt as if it would fall apart under his hands.

  Del stroked her breasts. "What happened in that hallway?"

  "Darkman hit you."

  "Is he your man?" It wouldn't be the first time a girl had come on to him and an angry boyfriend showed up to retaliate.

  "He thinks so." She snuggled against him. "You're my man."

  Del wasn't, but he did like her. He kissed the top of her head. "How did you get rid of that fellow?"

  "I didn't."

  He lifted his head with a jerk. "You mean he might come back?"

  She watched him with her eyes half closed. "He never left."

  What the hell? Del looked around, struggling to focus. "I don't see anyone."

  "He's the other room, running the holo-cam."

  "What?" He sat up, pushing her away, and groaned. His stomach felt as if it were about to heave up. "He's recording us?"

  "Of course."

  "No!" Del fastened his pants, though his fingers seemed too thick and clumsy to work properly. "You can't do that!"

  She rolled languorously onto her side. "You can't go."

  When he tried to stand up, his dizziness surged and he barely made it halfway to his feet before he lost his balance and fell onto his knees next to Delilah.

  "There, there." She stroked his arm. "Don't get upset."

  "Stop it," Del said. "What did you give me?"

  "Just spikers and tranquilizers. Enjoy it."

  "You can't give me drugs! It could kill me."

  "Don't be silly. You'll have fun."

  "No!" Using the wall for support, he tried again, and this time he made it to his feet. He sagged against the rough surface while nausea rolled over him.

  The room had no door. No furniture. Nothing except the mattress and a mechanized commode against one wall. Del stumbled to it and fell onto his knees. Leaning over the bowl, he vomited as if his insides were tearing out.

  "That's disgusting," Delilah said behind him. "That won't give us good material for the virt."

  Del wiped his mouth on a paper-mesh towel that left a sour taste as it delivered enough soap to clean his mouth. He dumped it in the commode and watched it swirl away. "Who are you people?"

  "I told you." She stood above him. "I'm Delilah. My friend is Darkman. You're our guest." Then she added, "For a while."

  Del climbed to his feet. "You have to let me go."

  Delilah took his wrist, but it wasn't in affection. She looked revolted. She held up his hand as if it were an accusation. "You're deformed."

  "What? No, I'm not."

  "Imperfect." She touched the hinge and her voice turned ugly. "When I first saw this in one of your live concerts, I felt sick. I don't like imperfection."

  Del jerked his hand away from her.

  With no warning, lights flared. Squinting against the glare, he peered across the room. A man was coming inside, but the light obscured any molecular airlock that might have appeared, and Del could barely make him out. He tensed into a mai-quinjo stance, preparing to defend himself, though he had never used the martial arts in self-defense, only as exercise—

  Then the guy came forward, out of the light, and Del's stomach felt as if it dropped through the floor. The man held a giant Viper-IV laser carbine gripped in both hands.

  "I think you should leave her alone," the man said.

  Del lowered his hands, moving slowly. "Yeah. Whatever you want." The guy wore dark clothes, but he had spiky yellow hair and a blue laser-lit tattoo on his cheek. "You're Darkman?"

  "Delilah calls me that." An edge grated in his voice. "You can call me Raker."

  "Don't make a virt of me," Del said. Given that Raker had the gun, he could do what he wanted, but Del had to try.

  Raker smiled, and it wasn't pretty. "Virts of you are floating all over the planet." He walked forward, his monster gun glinting. "All those cheap, unimaginative replicas of The Jewels Suite."

  "Uh, sure, yeah." Sweat beaded Del's forehead. "Unimaginative." He felt sick.

  Raker stopped next to Delilah, looming over her, huge and muscled. Del felt small.

  "People will look for me," Del said. "A lot of them." Except he had tricked Cameron. It could be hours before anyone knew he had disappeared.

  "They won't find you," Raker said. In a deathly calm voice, he added, "I used to be a mech wizard for a conglomerate bigger than your little Prime-Nova. Our security force was better than special ops in Allied Space Command. I know all the tricks."

  Del pressed his hand against his stomach, willing it to settle. He stared at the gun, then lifted his gaze to Raker. "What do you want with me?"

  "I have to do this," Raker said. "You're fresh, uncorrupted, new. Your genius isn't contaminated." His voice filled with righteous anger. "But it will happen. You'll get old too fast. Too much hard living. You'll sell out. You'll become a money-making machine. One day you'll wake up, and you'll be used up. All that talent? Tarnished. All that energy? Gone." A manic light glinted in his eyes. "My virt will immortalize your perfection before success destroys you."

  "Sure. Okay." Del wanted to scream. "I'll always have that."

  "You won't need it." A stern look came over Raker's face. "I can't have you ruining the perfection I create." He glanced at Del's hand, then put his arm around the scantily clad woman at his side. "Delilah wouldn't like that."

  Del felt ill again. Only one way would ensure that the reality of Del's future never intruded on their "perfect" virt.

  Get rid of the real Del Arden.

  XVI: Red Sky

  Mac stood in front of the door of the hotel room. "Come on, Del." He was growing annoyed. "We have to leave. Open up."

  No response. Mac strode away, simmering. Del must have overslept because he spent so much time in that damn Jewels Suite virt. What did he find to do for so long? It hadn't interfered with Del's commitments, so Mac had left him alone, but now he wondered. Maybe it affected Del more than he realized.

  He stopped at Jud's room and flicked the pager. Within moments, the door opened.

  "Hey, Mac," Jud said amiably. "I'm almost ready. You better go wake up Del."

  "I tried," Mac said. "He's not answering."

  Jud stopped smiling. "He didn't answer my comm, either."

  "Maybe I should have the hotel let us in."

  "You don't have a mesh-key card for his room?"

  Mac shook his head, his concern growing. "Del said he was tired of everyone going in and out of his room."

  Jud regarded him uneasily. "So how'll you get in?"

  "I'll manage." Mac had agreed to act as Del's manager only if Del signed a power of attorney that let Mac do whatever he felt necessary to protect the youth. Like get into his hotel room.

  Jud stepped out into the hall. "I'll come with you."

  * * *

  Jud couldn't believe it. No one at the Sunset Commander Hotel had questioned Mac when he asked for access to Del's room. That was strange enough. Now they entered an empty suite. It didn't even look as if anyone had been here.

  "Del?" Mac called, walking into the bedroom.

  Jud followed him just as Mac muttered, "I knew it!"

  "What—oh," Jud said. Del was slouched at the console in his virt suit, his helmet down, his hands folded across his stomach, his chest rising and falling in the even rhythms of sleep.

  "Come on, Del." Mac shook his shoulder. "Wake up."

  "Wait." Jud came closer. "Del isn't that big. It's Cam."

  "Cameron!" Mac shook his shoulder harder. "What are you doing in Del's virt suit?"

  Jud glanced around, expecting to see Del sprawled in bed. But the floater mattress was empty. It looked undisturbed, but it could have neatened itself up. Except Del never got up this early unless someone dragged him out of bed. Given that the wake-up duties always fell to Cameron, Mac, or Jud, this made no sense.

  "Huh." He pushed back his dreadlocks. "That's odd."

  "How do you get someone out of this?" Mac had quit s
haking Cameron. "I guess I could pull off his helmet."

  Jud leaned over the console and flipped open the virt cavity. "Mac, no!" Swinging around, he said, "Don't touch it."

  Mac froze with his hand on the helmet. "What's wrong?"

  "Pull him out and you'll fry his brain."

  Mac straightened up. "What are you talking about?"

  "It's not just a virt!" Jud couldn't believe that Del, who supposedly had needed a loan to survive, could have this setup. "It's a direct node-to-brain system without a safety." He motioned at the cube in the console. "Does that look like any virt you've seen? It's a damn bliss-node."

  "How would Del have one of those?" Mac asked.

  "A good question." Jud crossed his arms. "He's been claiming he can hardly afford his rent. He acts like he's broke. And while I was trying to help my debt-saddled friend, he spent half a million buying a bliss-node. That fucking bastard."

  "Jud, wait. Del wasn't making that kind of money. I manage his finances. He needed your help." Mac's face had paled. "How do we get Cameron out of this thing? I want to know why he's here instead of with Del."

  "So Del dumped him." Jud was tired of Mac's constant worrying about Del, who was apparently perfectly able to take care of himself, to the tune of half a million dollars. "Maybe Del went off with some triller."

  "I don't care how many girls he went with," Mac said. "He knows he can't leave Cameron behind. Cameron knows it."

  "What is with you?" Jud said. "You're Del's manager, not his keeper. I don't care how much money Prime-Nova thinks he'll make them. It's his life. He shouldn't have cut it so close getting back here, but if he wants to go off, it's his business."

  Mac spoke in a too quiet voice. "You have no idea what you're talking about." He indicated Cameron. "How do I get him out?"