34

Tharkad

District of Donegal, Lyran Commonwealth

26 April 3027

Ardan Sortek shook Andrew Redburn's hand heartily. "Good luck, Andrew. Enjoy your trip home." The Colonel retreated back alongside the Archon-Designate. Melissa linked her arm with Ar-dan's as they left the VIP lounge to give Andrew and Misha some time alone.

Andrew forced a self-conscious chuckle, but the strong emotions he felt choked it off before it could be convincing. Misha came to him and he hugged her as fiercely as her heavy, gray woolen cloak would allow. As though his arms were a refuge, she lay her head against his chest, then kissed his throat. "I will miss you very much, Andrew."

"I know, Misha. I know." He kissed her lips and forehead, then held her close again. "I'll be back." He smiled gently. "I can't promise I'll record a holotape each week, or write a letter each month, but I won't forget you and I willreturn."

Misha smiled so beautifically that even the tears slowly running down her cheeks could not mar her loveliness. "And I'll be here waiting," she said softly.

Andrew took her hands and held her at arm's-length for one last, long look. Then he released her and stepped onto Silver Eagle'sgantry. He turned to wave once to Misha before vanishing into the DropShip's dark interior. Down below, in the lobby for commercial passengers, Andrew imagined that he saw Joana Barker standing in line, waiting to board the ship.

He made his way to his own suite of rooms, and tipped the porter twenty Kroner for delivering his luggage. Rather different from the DropShips I'm used to,Andrew thought, surveying the suite with wide eyes.

Compared to his rooms on Tharkad, the Silver Eagle'saccommodations were cramped, but they were decorated almost as finely as those in the palace. Gilded fixtures, mirrors, and cut-crystal lamps combined with satin bunting and wooden trim made the suite an exact imitation of the ships plying Terra's oceans millennia before. The quilted fabric on the walls and ceiling did betray the differences, but Andrew knew the ship needed them for safety. If the transit drive ever cuts out while we're outside a planet's gravitational grasp, we'll be weightless.

The living room boasted a pair of leather sofas arranged at right angles, one facing the suite hatch and the other the hatch to his bedroom. Between them was a low, glass-topped table. In the corner, immediately to the left of the entry hatchway, two wing-backed leather chairs bracketed a wooden table. A small, unobtrusive holoviewer sat on the table. Beside it, standing neatly in a rack, were holodiscs emblazoned with the logos of several magazines.

Andrew shook his head. He remembered mentioning to Simon Johnson that he read those magazines whenever he had a chance. For Simon to remember .. . Andrew shuddered. That's one man I wouldn't want as an enemy.

A closed hatch next to the bedroom hatchway opened onto his cleaner. Between that hatch and the one to the bedroom stood a wooden cabinet. Andrew crossed to it and opened its upper doors. Within was a holovision monitor and another, larger disc/tape playback unit. In the lower compartment of the cabinet, he found an array of liquors racked and secured against loss of gravity.

Shaking his head in amazement, Andrew passed into the bedroom. It was small, though the chest of drawers built right into the bulkhead did save room. Two comfortable chairs and a round wooden table were opposite his bed, which pressed almost against the exterior bulkhead. Reminiscent of an older age, gauzy curtains and a canopy hung over the bed from four massive posts.

Andrew smiled. The gauzy fabric resembled mosquito netting, but he knew, from similarly equipped—though scarcely as luxurious—-berths aboard military DropShips, that the netting would keep the bed's occupant from floating away while asleep. If the ship lost gravity, a simple catch would release and shoot the netting over the open side of the bed. Electromagnets would secure the netting to keep the passenger from drifting away from bed. It would be a rude awakening, Andrew supposed, to float away from the bed and then suddenly to have gravity return.

Andrew turned back to the living room and flopped down on a couch. He laughed aloud. "Yes, Colonel Sortek, I think I'll enjoy this trip."

* * *

Melissa scowled as the porter dropped her bags inside the door. She smiled at him but got no response until she pressed a Kroner imprinted with her mother's profile into his moist palm. The porter frowned and withdrew as though afraid of catching a disease. The hatch squeaked as he pulled it shut.

"Great!" Melissa shook her head and surveyed the wood-paneled room. She reached out and tapped a finger against the paneling. "Plastic with pseudo-cellulose veneer." She stalked across the cabin, which took three short strides, and poked the sofa facing the entrance. "Folds out into a bed—manually."

She folded her arms across her chest and sat down hard on the sofa. The cabin, which she guessed was twice as wide as it was deep, reminded her of nothing so much as the barracks she'd heard about on some of the less civilized worlds in the Commonwealth. The room's furnishings were serviceable, and certainly more than Joana Barker had ever owned. It was obvious, however, that they had been moved to this lower deck from the true luxury decks because of their slightly worn condition. The holo-vision monitor, bracketed to a table next to the hatchway to the cleaner she shared with the cabin inboard from hers, had a minute screen.

Melissa felt the slight vibration of the ship as the crew began the ignition sequence from the launch rockets. Lights dimmed as the engines sucked power from the system, and suddenly a great emptiness opened up in Melissa. A lump rose in her throat and her lower lip quivered. Tears washed the room out of focus.

Stop it!Melissa slammed her balled right fist down on her thigh. Joana Barker would not be crying right now. This is her "great adventure. "

She shook her bead, then massaged her leg. But I'm not Joana Barker. I'm Melissa Arthur Steiner, Archon-Designate. I don't have to live in a rathole. I deserve better.

From somewhere in her mind, a sinister voice stirred her most hidden fears. Deserve? Deserve, little Princess? Deserving means you've earned something. What have you earned, child of plenty?Harsh laughter seemed to echo through her soul. Here, Melissa Arthur Steiner, you will begin to earn what you so arrogantly believe that you deserve. See how your people live. Endure the same indignities to spirit and body. Then, and only then, will you begin to deserve.

* * *

"So, Leftenant Redburn, that's the basic layout of the Silver Eagle."Captain Stefan von Breunig pointed to the illuminated chart at the back of the cockpit-style bridge. "We differ from other MonarchClass ships because we ripped out two cargo bays and added more passenger decks. We carry 350 passengers, more or less, and have expanded all facilities to handle that increased population."

Andrew nodded and tapped the image of the large dining facility in the center of the wall chart. "I notice you have one dining facility. I thought the Monarchsplit dining up by passenger class."

Von Breunig laughed and raked a hand through his short, white-blond hair. "When Monopole refitted the Silver Eagle,they decided to do away with class distinctions. The dining room bridges two decks." He pointed to the thicker bulkheads and hatches indicated on the chart by wide lines. "Though it's in the center of the ship, we've reinforced it against disaster. We've found that the ordinary passengers enjoy a chance to catch a glimpse of celebrities like yourself." The Captain pointed to a smaller area on the deck where Andrew's suite was located. "Though the Silver Eagleis egalitarian in its facilities, which saves costly duplication, we do have a private area for dining and recreation if you wish to escape the steerage passengers."