“Mother Mary, that detox procedure was a big mistake. I preferred you as you were before.”
“I’m really interested in everything you say, P.L.”
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“I want you to flight prep the Tekas , and take me and some friends outsystem.”
“Oh, sure, no problem.” He collapsed into the living room’s leather settee, and favoured her with a pitying gaze. “Any particular destination? New California? Norfolk? Hey, why don’t we go for the big one and see if we can break through Earth’s SD network?”
“It’s important. It’s for Garissa.”
“Oh, Mary. Your poxy revolution.”
“It isn’t revolution, it’s called honour. Access your dictionary file.”
“Haven’t got one. And for your information, there’s a civil starflight quarantine in operation. I couldn’t fly the Tekas away if I wanted to.”
“Do you?”
“Yes. All right, one nil. If I’d known about this quarantine in advance I would have left. The Dorados might be home, but I don’t think they’re the best place to live while the possessed are roaming around. You’ve got the right idea, Voi, you’re just too late.”
She held up a flek. “The Dorados governing council flight authorization: it’ll be an official voyage.”
“How the hell . . .”
“Daddy was on the council. I have his access codes.”
Temptation haunted him like a curse. “Is it still valid?”
“Yes. Myself and three others. Deal?”
“There’s a few people I’d like to bring along.”
“No. You can operate that yacht by yourself, that’s why I chose it. This isn’t a bloody pleasure cruise, P.L. I need you to fly some complex manoeuvres for me.”
“Tekas isn’t combat-capable, you know. Who are these others?”
“Need-to-know only. And you don’t. Do we have a deal?”
“Do we get to try out free-fall sex?”
“If fucking me means you’ll fly the yacht for me, fuck away.”
“Mother Mary, you are a complete bitch!”
“Deal?”
“All right. Give me a day to wind things up here.”
“We leave in three hours.”
“No way, Voi. I doubt I could even fill the cryogenic tanks by then.”
“Try.” She waved the flek. “If you don’t; no authorization.”
“Bitch.”
The girl was extravagantly attractive; early twenties with lustrous ebony skin and dry chestnut hair that fell just below her bottom. Her dress was a shimmering metallic grey-blue with a skirt hem higher than the dangling ends of her hair.
Melvyn suspected she was a typical insecure rich kid. Though Joshua didn’t seem to mind, the two of them were busy French-kissing on the Bar KF-T’s dance floor.
“He’s a devil for it,” Melvyn said peevishly. He felt he should explain to Beaulieu, who was sitting at the table with him. “Never works for me. I mean, fusion specialist is a tough job. And I’m crew, that’s glamorous enough, isn’t it? But they just bloody stampede at him when we dock. I think he got his pheromones geneered along with everything else.” He started searching through the cluster of beer bottles on the table for one that had something left inside. There were rather a lot of them.
“You don’t think it’s anything to do with the fact he’s thirty years younger than you?” the cosmonik asked.
“Twenty-five!” Melvyn corrected indignantly.
“Twenty-five.”
“Certainly not.”
The cosmonik gave the Bar KF-T another automatic scan. Joshua’s direction of investigation was obviously puzzling the intelligence agents who were on observation duty. Melvyn and Beaulieu had identified five of them in the club, making a game of it as they sat drinking beer and waiting for Joshua to score. It wasn’t that the agents didn’t mix; they drank, they danced, they chatted to people, the betraying factor was the way they maintained a rigid distance from the Lady Mac ’s crew.
Joshua waved a sunny farewell to the girl and sat down at Melvyn’s table with a satisfied sigh. “Her name’s Kole, and she’s invited me to a party this evening.”
“I’m surprised she can hold back that long,” Melvyn muttered.
“I’m meeting her and her friends at tonight’s benefit gig, then they’re going on to a private bash at someone’s apartment.”
“A benefit gig?” Beaulieu questioned.
“Some local MF bands are getting together so they can raise money for Alkad Mzu’s legal costs, should she ever need to fight Confederation extradition warrants.”
“She’s becoming a bloody religion,” Melvyn said.
“Looks that way.” Joshua started counting the bottles on the table. “Come on, we need to get back to Lady Mac .” He slipped his arm under Melvyn’s shoulder and signalled Beaulieu to help. Between them, they got the drunk fusion specialist to his feet. Ashly and Sarha walked over from the bar. All four serjeants rose from their seats.
None of the agents moved. That would have been too blatant.
A pair of possessed walked into Bar KF-T. A man and woman, dressed in clothes which almost matched current fashions.
Joshua’s electronic warfare block datavised an alarm.
“Get down!” the four serjeants shouted in unison.
The threat-response program which had gone primary as soon as the alarm came on sent Joshua diving for cover amid the tables and chairs. He hit the floor, rolling expertly to absorb the impact. A couple of empty chairs went flying as his legs struck them. His crew was following him down; even Melvyn, though his alcohol-polluted nerves made him slower.