Worlds Apart (ThreeCon)

by Carmen Webster Buxton

  “Hello, sweetheart,” she said. “I know you’re working this evening, and I have to work in the morning, so I can’t wait up. Please come anyway, and wake me up when you get there.” She smiled. “I already told Lidiya not to come in tomorrow morning.”

  Her face faded away and the screen went blank.

  Prax spent the evening patrolling with Tinibu. The big Terran was in a good mood. Nakamura had been unusually affectionate lately, and Tinibu appreciated it.

  “It sure is nice to have someone care about you,” he said. “I don’t mean just what happens in bed, either,” he added. “That’s nice, too, but it’s not the most important thing.”

  They were walking the perimeter under the twin moons of Subidar. One moon was only a crescent, but the other was almost full.

  “Were you ever married, Prax?” Tinibu asked.

  “No,” Prax said. “Were you?”

  “Nope,” Tinibu said. “I came close a couple of times, but I could never quite go through with it.”

  “Were you in love?” Prax wouldn’t ordinarily have felt comfortable asking such personal questions, but Tinibu seemed to want to talk about it.

  “I thought so,” Tinibu said. “I think I probably was, but maybe not enough. I knew plenty of folks who got married for a few years—intending for it to last just a few years, I mean—and I could never see the point. Why bother getting married at all if it’s only for a few years?”

  “It never sounded like marriage to me,” Prax said.

  Tinibu didn’t answer for a while, and they walked in silence. Prax studied the stars in the Subidaran sky. He had gotten used to their pattern, and to the murky purple color of the sky at night. The air seemed normal to him now, the smell of the grass and trees, and the feel of the cool breeze on his cheek. It came as something of a shock for him to realize that he would miss Subidar.

  After their break, they checked the interior of the house. It was late, and it looked as if everyone was asleep. They walked through the rooms, checking for any signs of intruders. In every room, Tinibu transmitted an all-clear signal with his com. He looked around the atrium before he sent the signal.

  “This is quite a room,” he said. “I always liked this room.”

  “I don’t,” Prax said. “It’s only an illusion.”

  “I know it is. That’s one reason I like it. I think it’s neat to be able to have the effect of being outside without the consequences. It never rains in here.”

  Prax shook his head. “I’d rather have the real thing.”

  Tinibu laughed. “You never did like walls. Which is kind of funny, when you think how many walls you’re going to end up owning.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Tinibu just grinned. “Come on, Prax! Mistress Trahn isn’t interested in a brief fling. She’s playing for keeps.”

  Prax debated before he answered. He didn’t want to mislead a friend. “There’s more to it than just what she wants or what I want.”

  Tinibu looked puzzled. “You’re not going to let that old Shuratanian sour puss scare you off, are you?”

  “It’s not a question of being scared off. I have to do what’s right. I didn’t once, years ago, and I’m still paying for it.”

  “Is that what it is?” Tinibu said. “You’ve got something hurting inside you, like a wound that’s still bleeding. You can see it on your face sometimes, when you play music from your home.”

  “We’d better get back to work,” Prax said abruptly.

  Tinibu didn’t try to start another personal conversation, and they finished their rounds discussing only inconsequential things.

  Prax let himself into Rishi’s room just as he had the night before. This time she was sound asleep when he lay down beside her. He stroked her arm gently until she stirred slightly, and her eyes fluttered open.

  “Hello,” she sighed. “I’m glad you came.”

  He kissed her gently. “Do you want to make love?”

  Rishi smiled and shook her head sleepily. “Not unless you do. I just wanted you to sleep with me—and wake up with me.”

  Prax put his arm around her so that she was nestled against him.

  “Go back to sleep,” he said. “I won’t leave in the morning until after you’re awake.”

  OVER the next several days, Prax made his plans. He checked his work schedule and found that he was supposed to be off duty on the night he planned to leave. This wasn’t good. Rishi would expect him to stay with her, and he would have trouble leaving without her knowing about it.

  For the first time, Prax needed someone to change shifts with him. Chio was supposed to be off that day, and on call that night. Prax asked him to swap.

  “I guess it’s okay,” Chio said. “I wasn’t doing anything special either time.”

  “Would you do me another favor?” Prax asked.

  “What?”

  “Would you go to Rurhahn and ask him to make the switch?”

  “Pretend it’s my idea, you mean?” Chio said. He studied Prax’s face. “Are you up to something, Prax?”

  Prax hesitated, reluctant to lie to his friend. “I’m not doing anything wrong.”

  Chio sighed. “Why do I have a feeling I’m going to regret this later? Okay, Prax, I’ll ask Rurhahn to switch us. I’ll tell him you said it was all right with you.”

  “Thank you,” Prax said.

  The shuttle for the Spirit of Shuratan was due to depart Shembor early in the morning. Prax decided to leave the estate when the shift changed from night to early watch. Since he would be on call, Rishi would know he couldn’t come to her, and he should be able to avoid having her visit him.

  Prax had read through his contract carefully until he was sure he knew exactly how to terminate it. There was only one more thing he needed to do before he left.

  Prax went by Hari’s office during the next day shift when he knew Hari was working. He knocked on the door and heard Hari’s voice call for him to come in.

  Hari looked up when Prax walked through the door.

  “What’s up?” Hari asked.

  Prax didn’t hesitate to come to the point. “I want my dagger back. Please,” he added, in case he sounded rude.

  “Why?” Hari said, in a flat tone that showed he wasn’t at all afraid of sounding rude.

  “Because it’s my knife, not yours,” Prax said, with a touch of exasperation. “Why should you keep my knife?”

  “Because it’s a weapon. You’re not supposed to have personal weapons in your rooms.”

  “If I hadn’t had a personal weapon with me when that intruder attacked me, I would be dead,” Prax said pointedly. “I won’t be using it on any of the staff if that’s what you’re worried about. Beecher is gone and no one else tries to make me angry—except Thulan, and that’s not the same thing at all. If it comes to that, you let me keep the little throwing knife. Why can’t I have the dagger back?”

  Hari studied him closely. “Why now? I’ve had the knife for months. Why do you want it back now?”

  “Because you’ve had it long enough,” Prax said heatedly, losing his patience. “It belongs to me. My father gave it to me, and I want it back.”

  Hari twisted his face so that his brows were drawn together, and his eyes were almost closed. He looked at Prax again.

  “Where did you go the day after Anika and I got home?” he asked suddenly. “You’ve never been off the estate alone before, and suddenly you went off with Moreno, but you came back alone.”

  Prax was out of patience. “I don’t have to tell you what I do with my own time. Are you going to give me my knife or not?”

  Hari stood up. He walked over to the opposite wall and stood so that Prax couldn’t see what he was doing. A small door opened in the wall. Hari reached in and took out the Elliniká dagger that Prax had relinquished to him.


  “Here,” Hari said, holding it out. “Be sure to pack it in your luggage. They won’t let you carry it on the shuttle, and the same thing goes for the one in your boot.”

  Prax took the knife. There was silence in the room for a few moments while the two of them looked at each other.

  Prax spoke first. “Are you going to tell Rishi?”

  “No,” Hari said. “Are you?”

  Prax looked down at the knife in his hands. “I don’t think I can.”

  Hari sat down again. He leaned back and put both feet on the desk. “Why are you going? You seemed pretty well adjusted lately. No fights, no claustrophobia, no signs that you were unhappy.”

  Prax struggled to put his circumstances into words. “I’m not unhappy. I just can’t stay. I don’t have the right to stay anymore. She said our debt is paid. I have other obligations now, and she’ll be better off without me.”

  Hari knit his brows in a heavy frown. “I hope you’re not going because of anything Parnochh may have said to you. One thing you must keep in mind is that Parnochh cares more about the House of Trahn than he cares about Rishi herself. I don’t. I can tell you that you did her more good than any business deal she ever had.”

  Prax shook his head. “I have no choice anymore.”

  Hari’s frown deepened to a scowl. “Intelligent beings always have a choice.”

  Prax shrugged his shoulders helplessly. “Maybe. But sometimes they’re very limited choices.”

  “When are you going?”

  “In three days.”

  “Don’t forget to terminate the contract,” Hari said. “Otherwise she’ll have a legal claim to stop you.”

  “I won’t forget,” Prax said.

  Hari offered his hand. Prax shook it, then turned and left the room.

  THREE days later, Prax made his final preparations. At dinner time, he told Rishi he was tired and would go to bed early. Fortunately, she was distracted by a deal she was negotiating. She nodded absently and said she planned to work for a little while after dinner, anyway.

  Prax lay on the bed in his room until quite late, to make sure that Rishi wasn’t coming to see him. When it was well past the time she might come, he got up to pack. It didn’t take him long. He wasn’t taking his uniforms.

  He had bought a folding travel case on the way back from his trip to town, when he had booked his passage. He unfolded the case and packed his bouzouki first, and then put his clothes carefully around it, along with his boot knife and his dagger. He packed the saddle bags he had used to carry all his possessions to Subidar, and then he added the few personal items he had acquired since then—the tiny alogos from Thulan, a deck of cards Chio had given him, the book reader that Rishi had presented to him. He debated about taking the reader because he knew eventually it would need the power supply replenished, but he took it anyway. He might be able to trade for power for it in Agnios or Pireaus, and maybe even add more books.

  Once his case was ready, Prax sat down at the terminal in his room and pulled up his contract. He filled in the form at the end requesting termination, and signed his name with a stylus. When he pressed his thumb on the square to record the change, Prax sighed. It was done.

  Prax left the case in his room while he went to pay one last visit to Rishi’s room. It was the middle of the night, so he didn’t expect to meet anyone. Rishi was sound asleep when he let himself in. She slept on her side, with her hair fanned out on the pillow. Prax stood staring down at her for several minutes, trying to make himself turn and go. It almost broke his resolve to look at her face and know that he would never see her again. Only the thought that his departure would be the best thing he could do for her gave him the strength not to change his mind. Finally, he bent down and kissed her hair on the pillow. He walked to the door as silently as he could, then turned for one last look at her.

  “Goodbye, lady,” he whispered softly.

  Prax left the note he had written in his own room. He didn’t want Rishi to see it until he was well on his way. She would expect him to have to work the next morning, so she wouldn’t miss him until lunch, unless Hari were to break it to her sooner.

  Prax collected his case and let himself out the security entrance. He made his way to the flyter pad and sat down to wait. Sarrano was due on early watch in an hour. He lived out, and he always came in an autocab because he didn’t have his own flyter.

  Prax sat shivering in the cold. After a while, he turned on the heat control in his jacket, the only part of his uniform he had brought with him. He spotted the cab lights almost an hour later. Sarrano was cutting it close. Just as well. He wouldn’t have time to ask Prax any questions.

  The autocab paused when it got to the force field. Sarrano must have entered the security code with no problem because the cab continued after just a few seconds. It set down on the flyter pad, and Sarrano got out almost running. Prax was waiting with his bag in hand. He made it to the cab as a startled Sarrano turned and looked back to see who was leaving just as he arrived.

  Prax thought he heard Sarrano shout something, but he made no attempt to answer. The cab door shut, Prax entered the Shembor spaceport as his destination, and the cab lifted and began its journey.

  He was on his way home.

  Chapter Twenty

  Rishi sat with her hand over her eyes. She could hear a faint hum from the terminal in front of her. No other sound broke the silence of her office. Even Hari was too apprehensive to come within range of her temper. She put her hand down and stared at the screen. Numbers. That was all her life was now, just numbers.

  “What am I supposed to do now?” she said out loud.

  “Do you require assistance, Mistress?” the AI asked.

  “Yes!” Rishi shouted. The damn machine didn’t have a clue. Some problems went beyond operating margins and the general ledger. “Tell me how to be happy!”

  After a brief pause, the voice spoke. “I have no information regarding happiness or a lack thereof.”

  Rishi picked up the crumpled wad of paper that was Praxiteles’ goodbye note to her. When she smoothed out the wrinkles, she could still make out the writing at the bottom of the page.

  I’m sorry I have to leave you. But I owe a duty to my family, my clan, and my people, just as you owe a duty to your House. My duty requires that I live without a wife, while yours requires you to find a husband. It’s better to part now than to wait until the pain of separation becomes more than I can bear. But in the years to come, when I look out across the golden grass of the plains, I will see in my mind a house with a gray-green garden where once I was happy.

  Praxiteles

  Just his name at the end. Not, ‘love, Praxiteles,’ not any other endearment.

  But he did love her. She knew it. It was just that damn Elliniká stubbornness that was in their way. Rishi let out a sob. “How the hell do I get through to an Elliniká?”

  After a three second silence, the AI spoke again. “The Elliniká are Greek-speaking language refugees who colonized the planet Celadon. They have no digital communications. You must go to Celadon to communicate with them.”

  Rishi clenched her jaw. “I know that!”

  Incapable of sarcasm, the AI said nothing back.

  “Shut down!” It was only after she gave the order that it occurred to her that the damn thing was right.

  WHEN the shuttle from the gypsy ship put him down at the spaceport in Pireaus, Prax felt the pull of increased gravity as soon as he stood up. Walking into the main terminal took effort, as if he had weights on his shoes. For the first time, he was glad it had taken so long to get to Celadon. Without forty days to prepare, it would have been worse.

  Prax looked around as he stepped into the huge open space of the terminal. There were no passenger ships landing there, so traffic consisted of traders, cargo crews on leave, and the occasional ThreeCon uniformed personnel. O
nce the place would have overwhelmed him, and now it looked rather quiet.

  He found the ThreeCon consular office and cashed in his Subidaran credit account for local currency. When he inquired about transportation to Agnios, the clerk gave him a curious look but directed him to a transport company with an office near the terminal.

  Prax felt the warmth of Celadon’s sun on his skin as he stepped into the street. It was high summer. The Mercouri would be camped at their usual place by now. He just had to get there.

  The transport took several hours to reach Agnios. It was getting dark when Prax arrived. He wasted no time in the city but hurried to get out the gates before they were closed for the night. It still felt a little like he was wearing weights, but he was getting used to the gravity already. A kilometer from Agnios’ walls, he looked up at the starry Celadon sky and took a deep breath. Night-blooming flowers scented the air with a tender fragrance. The same early evening breeze that made the tall grasses wave back and forth ruffled his hair. He was home.

  Prax slept that night under a clump of trees. When it was light, he got up and changed into his Elliniká clothes. He put the clothes he had bought in Shembor into his case, packed everything else but his bouzouki into his saddle bags, and left the case under the trees. Prax started walking. If he walked all day without stopping, he should reach the Mercouri encampment in one day.

  The sun had already dipped below the horizon and the sky had turned smoky gray when Prax sighted a line of campfires. Behind it, he could see the dim shapes of the wagons. They were camped in two long loose, curving lines, spaced well apart, with each wagon at an angle to give every family some privacy. Beyond the wagons, Prax could see the looming shadows of the herd grazing.

  The order of the wagons was as familiar to him as the sound of his own name. He stayed well back from the light of the fires as he walked down the line, counting off the names as he passed each wagon. Finally, he recognized the patch on his family’s wagon cover, from the time he and his brothers had torn a hole in it during a quarrel that had grown into a wrestling match. Prax walked up to the fire. His father was sitting down mending a harness. His mother stood by the fire and stirred a pot of something that smelled wonderful, reminding Prax he hadn’t eaten all day. Iphigenia peered into the pot, looking bored while her mother gave her a cooking lesson.