The Sardonyx Net Part 5

"I missed you," she said. "I was busy. I went back and forth to Abanat a lot." She rubbed her chin. "I could have used a pilot. Domna Sam kept sending a bubble for me. I think I spent more time with her than Ferris."

Zed said, "I don't even know what Ferris looks like." Rhani made a face.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here to pilot you." _Were you happy?_ he wanted to ask. _Did you take a lover?_ If he asked her the first question, she would only smile, and say, "_Of course_."

He never asked about her lovers.

She said, "I have to go to Sovka."

"Why?"

"I retired the old manager, and appointed a new one, Erith Allogonga. She was head of the birthing section. I want to see how she's getting along. And I'm concerned about those litter deaths."

"Are you feeling nostalgic?" he teased.

She laughed. "For Sovka? Zed, one _couldn't_ feel nostalgic for Sovka."

Unable to restrain himself, he said, "You went there eagerly enough."

It was an old sore between them. Rhani touched his arm with her palm.

"Zed-ka. I was seventeen, and I was not asked if I wanted to go. I was told to go. I was frightened. I couldn't talk back to Isobel."

"I know. I'm sorry I said it."

"Shall I tell you more gossip? I can't think of anything more to tell.

You'll have to ask Charity Diamos. Or I could have Binkie make printouts of the old copies of PIN."

Charity Diamos was related to the Yagos: she was a vicious, malicious harridan and the worst gossip in Abanat. Zed choked.

Rhani laughed. "You talk to me," she said. "Tell me about the trip.

You've not yet given me the Net report."

"It's on the computer, you can read it there."

"No. I'd rather hear it from you."

She sat with her head c.o.c.ked slightly to one side, fingers clasped together loosely in her lap: it was her listening look. Zed picked up a piece of fruit. "All right," he said. "The trip was uneventful until the end...."

Downstairs, in the quarters set apart for slaves, Dana Ikoro dreamed the sound of footsteps in a hall.

He came awake, sweating and cold. The room was very bright; the dappled brilliance of sunlight, not the desolate glare of artificial lighting. Someone was knocking on his door. A woman called his name; her voice soft through the heavy wood. He sat up. He was sticky. "Come in," he called. A small blond girl came in.

"h.e.l.lo," she said. "I'm Amri." She wore a soft light s.h.i.+ft of red-and- yellow; she reminded Dana of a b.u.t.terfly. She carried a pair of straw sandals in one hand, and a gray jumpsuit over her arm. "These are for you. Binkie says they should fit."

Dana sat on the edge of the bed. "What time of day is it?" he asked.

"Two hours after dawn." She had pale fine hair that fell to her waist and equally pale, near-translucent skin, an infant's skin. The s.h.i.+ft was sleeveless; Dana saw the tattooed "Y" on her left arm. That meant she was a slave. He blinked, shocked. She looked barely fourteen; he couldn't imagine what possible criminal act she had committed. But she was here.

He took the clothing from her. "After you're dressed," she said, "come have breakfast. The kitchen's at the other end of this hall."

"Yes, I remember. Thank you," he said.

Walking down the hall to the kitchen Dana experienced that unmistakable twinge in the head that says: _You have seen, done, smelled, tasted, been here before_. He puzzled out the _deja vu_. He was sixteen, walking from the sleeping s.p.a.ce to the eating hall in the Pilot's Academy on Nexus, wearing a uniform, a hundred unfamiliar terms and customs crowding his mind, his hair brus.h.i.+ng the tops of his shoulders, shorter than it had ever been on Pellin. He hadn't wanted them to cut it. He liked his hair long. He closed his eyes abruptly, remembering _Zipper_, Russell O'Neill, Monk, Tori Lamonica, Nexus, the forest-crested hills of Pellin, the faces of his family -- freedom, he thought. He wondered where his musictapes were now. He pictured some Net crew member riffling through them, listening to one, frowning in boredom, tossing them aside. "_Nothing of value, Commander_." Inside his head he heard, like birdsong, a few swift, improbable notes of Vittorio Stratta's "Fugue No. 2 in C." The gay ancient music drew tears.

He rubbed them out with the heel of his hand and went inside the kitchen.

The walls were red wood; the floor was squares of brown tile. Binkie, Amri, and two women he hadn't met sat at a counter on high metal stools, eating.

Their faces did not change as they turned to look him over. Binkie said, "This is Dana. This is Cara Morro, steward of the Yago estate, and Immeld, the cook." Cara was angular and brown, with silver hair that trickled down her back in asymmetrical ringlets. She had a pale scar on her left upper arm. Immeld was younger, jaunty, and talkative.

"I saw you come in last night," she said. She pushed a platter towards him. "Have some food. There's a stool over there." Dana turned, to find Amri bringing it to him. His feet dangled to the bottom rung. He picked fruit and cheese from the plate. "Are they awake?" said Immeld.

Amri said, "Zed took the tray from me to bring in himself."

"Someone was in here last night."

"That was Rhani," said Amri. "She brought _him_ something to eat." She pointed at Dana.

"What time was that?"

"About three hours after sunset," said Binkie. He said, ostensibly to Dana, "Immeld likes to know everything."

"So do you," said Cara tartly.

"Does anyone want more cheese?" asked the cook. No one did. She put the platter in a cooler. Casually she said, "What's new this morning?" She looked at Binkie.

"Nothing's new," he said. "Rhani's working."

"On what?" asked the cook.

"I don't talk about Rhani's work," said Binkie. "You know that."

Immeld chuckled, unabashed at her prying. "I just wondered."

"How many more days before they go to Abanat?" asked Amri.

"Ten," said Binkie.

"I want to go with them," Amri said. She kicked the rungs of her stool.

"I like Abanat."

"I don't," said Binkie. Diffidently, Dana said, "What's the Chabad calendar?"

Binkie said, "Nine days to a week, five weeks to a month, ten months to the year. Every fifth year they add two days to the last month of the year."

Immeld said, "And they don't celebrate birthdays at all on Chabad. I miss not having a birthday. I used to get two: Standard birthday and -- "

"Immey!" said Cara. She frowned at the younger woman. "We don't discuss the past."

Immeld shrugged. "I do miss it," she said stubbornly.

Dana nodded. Most colony planets used two time standards: the year/month/day as it was measured on the planet, and Standard, which was the old calendar of Earth. On some planets this meant that people had two birthdays to celebrate, since maturity was defined on most worlds by the Standard age of fourteen. Some colonies did away with all birthdays: you were simply informed when you reached fourteen Standard. On Pellin, there was a small ceremony.

Immeld said, "Rhani and Zed always go to Abanat for the Auction. Rhani always takes one of the house slaves with her to the city. One besides Binkie, that is; he goes every year. Timithos won't go; he hates to leave his garden."

"How many people live here?" Dana asked.

"We four," said Immeld, "and Timithos. And them, of course, and now you.

What were you bought for?"

"I don't know," said Dana. "They didn't tell me."

A bell rang, two-toned, _ping-pong_. Binkie stepped to a speaker grid in the wall. "Yes, Rhani-ka." The others fell silent. Rhani's voice was a jumble, too low to hear. Binkie murmured, "Yes, Rhani-ka." He turned from the speaker to look at Dana. "She wants you."

Dana swallowed hastily. "Where do I go?"

Amri said, "I'll take you. I have to get the tray." He followed her up the marble staircase. Along the second-story landing, Dana counted seven doors.

Amri stopped at the third one. She tapped, and grinned up at Dana. "You don't have to be scared of her," she said encouragingly. "She's very nice."

"Come in," called Rhani. Dana obeyed. The room was light and airy. The rug was white, the curtains were white, the walls were blue. Rhani wore blue.

She sat in a cream-colored chair whose rounded back and arms flowed about her like a mantle. Zed stood behind her, one hand brus.h.i.+ng Rhani's hair. Dana faced them. His heart began to pound.

Amri took the tray off the footstool. "Do you want more, Rhani-ka?" she asked.

"Thank you, no," said Rhani. She smiled at the child, then turned to gaze at her Starcaptain. He looked steadily back at her. After a moment, she recognized the thing that was wrong with his eyes. She twisted in her chair to look at Zed. "Zed-ka -- "

Zed nodded. "When you want me, call. I'm in my room." He went out the terrace doors. As if pulled by a magnet, Dana Ikoro's head turned to watch him go.

She said, "Zed says you are a drug runner."

His attention snapped back to her. "I was," he said.

"A dorazine smuggler."

He said, "That's not quite right. I was attempting to smuggle dorazine.

My cargo was jacked. I'm not a dorazine smuggler."

"But you made a deal to do it."

"Yes."

He was stiff, and overpolite. Part of that was fear, she knew, and part shame, and part uncertainty, and a good part pride. She understood all those, and approved of them all, except the first. Pride made a slave work, and shame and uncertainty kept him obedient. Unlike Zed, she saw very little value in fear. And if pride turned to rebellion, and shame to sullenness, well, there was always dorazine.

"Come here," she said. She pointed to the footstool. Stiffbacked but still graceful, he sat on it. "Binkie will have told you that on Chabad, the past is past. But you know, I think, that there is a dorazine shortage on Chabad. This is of major concern to Family Yago. We buy most of the dorazine that runners sell to the dealers in Abanat. It goes to the Net, and also to the prisons of Belle, Enchanter, Sabado, and Ley. We use it also at our kerit farm in Sovka. The other Families and industries on Chabad that are not controlled by the Four Families buy their dorazine separately." He was relaxing; all the words were putting him at ease. He had a mobile, expressive face; as he listened to her, his dark eyebrows drew together. "I want to ask you some questions about the dorazine trade. I know from my dealer that dorazine is made and processed out of sector, by a concern that everyone calls The Pharmacy."

"That's right," he said.

"Is it true that no one knows the location of The Pharmacy?"

"I've never heard anyone name a sector," he said, hesitantly. "They send their s.h.i.+pments out in roborockets which go to drop points in all eight sectors.

They have agents who contact the runners for them. I don't know how the agents get their instructions, but I've heard they come without a sector designation.

That's what the agents say."

She could see that he was unsure of what he could tell her, and was trying to be precise. "Is dorazine sold elsewhere, besides Chabad?"

"Buyers from other sectors send runners to Chabad for one or two loads, sometimes. But comine's cheaper. It's expensive to be addicted to dorazine." His face tightened. "That's what your brother thought I was, at first: a runner picking up a one-shot load."

Rhani said gently, "That doesn't matter." She touched his hand lightly.

"You know, you're mine now. You're not Zed's property. Dorazine comes to Chabad.

How does it come in? The officials in Port city check incoming s.h.i.+ps, and they're supposed to turn you over to the Hype cops if they catch you with contraband." She smiled as she said it. She knew the Port officials had trouble taking the Code seriously.

"Runners don't come to Port, or to the moon at all. We -- they -- Jump from the Hype to s.p.a.cetime normal near the planet. They land on Chabad -- or if there's, say, a captain and crew, the captain takes the bubble and the crew keeps the s.h.i.+p in orbit -- and fly a bubble to Abanat."

"Who was your dealer in Abanat?"

He half-grinned. It changed his rather severe face attractively. "I never had one. I was bluffing." His yellow-ivory skin was not very ruddy, but it grew perceptibly whiter. "I tried a bluff on the wrong person," he said painfully.

She said, "Do you know anything about Michel A-Rae?"

"No, Rhani-ka. I'm sorry."

"Did you eat?"

"Yes, Rhani-ka."

"Is your room comfortable?"

"Yes, Rhani-ka."

"Have you had a chance to see the estate?"

He shook his head.

"Come." She beckoned him to follow her. She opened the gla.s.s doors and stepped out to the terrace. "Don't look at the sun!" But he was already shading his eyes, focusing away from that brutal pinpoint to the green lawn. The shadows looked like cut-outs in the brilliant light. She beckoned him to the wall. He laid both hands on the brick.

"It reminds me of a place I lived when I was a child," he said.