She frowned, slightly bemused as he started to delve through a pile of junk. He pulled on a sleeveless shirt that was stained and torn, then started to clip on what looked like body armour. A metal breastplate painted in jungle camouflage; it had a small spotlight that stood above his left shoulder on a stalk.
"That screen," Fabian told her, urgently. "Watch that one." He was typing quickly on a complicated-looking terminal. "Please, Charlotte."
"Sure." Your daddy's paying for it, after all. She saw he had acquired a GI helmet with a small radio mike hanging down. He picked up a bulky gun, some sort of cross between a shotgun and a semi-automatic rifle, and stood in the centre of a circular black mat.
There was something weirdly familiar about the costume. Then the theatre-sized flatscreen on the rear wall lit up.
A cramped room illuminated by dull red lighting, metal lockers forming walls and narrow aisles. Figures frozen in an alert pose, all of them holding the same kind of rifle as Fabian, all looking up at the ceiling with expressions of worry and concern. Charlotte recognized the woman in the centre: Sigourney Weaver. "I know this," she said. "It's from Aliens."
Fabian laughed. He was abruptly engulfed by a two-metre bubble of holographic light, a shadowless pearl haze. Faint coloured lines flickered around him, an exoskeleton drawn in blue, as though he had been cocooned by a computer graphics display.
The scene on the flatscreen came alive. And there was Fabian, one of the space marines, firing his gun wildly as the aliens crashed down through the command centre's roof. He had obviously perfected his chosen role, screaming obscenities, blasting the creatures apart in eruptions of green and yellow gore, covering the retreat back to the medical centre. Then one of the aliens punched up through the floor at his feet, and he went down firing defiantly until a black skeletal hand clamped over his face, dragging him to oblivion. A last terrified scream and he was gone.
Charlotte laughed delightedly, clapping and whistling. "Encore!" She didn't have to fake it. Almost all of her patrons tried to impress her, showing off their sophisticated art collections or delicate antiques, lecturing her extensively on every piece, demonstrating how cultured and refined they were, always hoping for an admiration which wasn't entirely bought. No one had ever tried to woo her with anything remotely like this before, not simple enjoyment. It was all so gloriously childish. She couldn't help wondering how she would look up there on the big screen.
Fabian clambered back to his feet, and slung the chunky rifle over his shoulder. His face split with a rich happy smile. "See, told you I was good. You can pick whatever character you like. I love playing Hudson; he's a real fighter. He's scared the whole time, but he's tough too when it counts. I know his dialogue off by heart."
"You were brilliant." She went over to the terminal he had activated, there were three times the usual number of keys. "What is this?"
"Videoke. All the companies and kombinates say it's going to be their supernova sales item this Christmas. Father got me this deck in advance; he's trying to buy a big consignment of them for Central America. The software houses have only remastered fifty movies for interactivity so far. I've got them loaded in the deck's AV memox; all the real classics since cinema started, even some black and white ones."
"It's wonderful, Fabian."
"Do you want to try it?" he asked generously. "You could be Ingrid Bergman in Casablanca, or Laura Dern in Jurassic Park, you're easily beautiful enough."
"Thank you, flatterer. I will some time, once I've learned the lines. If I'm going to do it, I want to do it properly, like you. I'll have to find the right clothes, too."
"I could do the Humphrey Bogart part with you."
"Yes." She read the list of films the videoke deck's flatscreen was displaying. Snow White in the Disney cartoon would certainly be a challenge. And which dwarf could Fabian be? She chuckled quietly to herself.
Fabian slowly took his helmet off. His hair was all sweaty, clinging to his scalp. "Charlotte."
She looked round at him, surprised by his serious tone.
"I meant it when I said you were beautiful."
"Thank you, Fabian."
"I couldn't believe it the first time I saw you." His pose of assured confidence crumpled, shoulders slumping inside the green armour. "I thought I was dreaming. I knew you'd be pretty, but—"
"Give you a tip, never oversell."
His head came up, lips pressed together defiantly. "Are you laughing at me?"
"No, Fabian. I'm not laughing at you. Life is cruel enough without people deliberately adding to it."
"Oh. You're nothing like. . . I don't mind what you do, you know."
"What do I do?"
Fabian blushed, the invisible wires tugged his shoulders into a lopsided shrug. "You know. The others, before me. Hiring yourself out."
"Cars and flats are hired out, Fabian. They're objects."
"You mean you want to?"
"I mean there are limits. I have a choice."
His youthful uncertainty had returned. He looked almost fragile, she thought.
"So you only came on board the Colonel because you wanted to?" he asked.
"More or less, yes."
"With me?" his voice was disbelieving.
Charlotte was strongly tempted. Revenge for all the shit she'd been made to eat over the years. She could hit him now, beat him with words, sarcasm and derision, cripple him up inside. He was one of them, the indifferent rich, floating effortlessly through life. Never caring, that was their real crime.
His face hovered halfway between pride and trepidation. The kind of innocence she'd never had.
She couldn't do it.
It wasn't often like this. She was supposed to be a passing fancy, an interesting diversion. Not someone who could leave a lasting impression. But with Fabian, she knew she'd be a wonderful memory for the rest of his life. The greatest present a fifteen-year-old could ever be given—judged from a fifteen-year-old's viewpoint. And who knows, I might even alter his perspective on life.
Charlotte twitched her lips sensually. "You won't like this."
"What?"
"When I saw you back at the Newfields ball. I thought you were kind of cute."
"Cute?" he blurted in dismay.
"Told you."
"Oh." Fabian dropped the rifle back on the junk pile and scratched his neck. "Really?"
"Yes."
"So you must like me a bit."
"I suppose so."
He seemed to inflate with purpose. "All right! Can we go swimming now?"
* * * *
There really was a swimming-pool on board. A surprisingly large one, fifteen metres long, six wide. The room had a small bar at one end, and solaris spots shining out of a hologram sky. Sun loungers were set out along one side of the pool, the other side was flush with the wall, the windows ten centimetres above the water.
Charlotte tested the water with one foot, then shrugged out of her towelling robe. She was wearing a bright scarlet crossover-back swimsuit underneath. Fabian watched her with a bold face and timid eyes as she dived cleanly into the pool.
She swam over to the windows, and looked out at the Mediterranean below. Floating in water that was floating through air. How strange. And there was that feeling of something being out of kilter again. It was mid-afternoon, with the sun sinking towards the horizon ahead of the Colonel Maitland. She decided that when she got to Odessa she'd call Baronski and tell him to find her another patron. Fabian could nearly be classified as sweet, he was certainly gullible, and easily controlled. But there was no way she was going to spend the next month cooped up in an airship with no one else to talk to.
"Do you want the wave generator on?" he asked.
"Maybe later. I'm still getting used to the idea of a pool in the air. Waves would be pushing it."
He turned onto his back, and drifted away. "The pool makes a lot of sense, you know. It weighs less than the hydrogen the ship used to store; and water is the best kind of ballas
t, quick to dump."
"Are you telling me that if there's an emergency we're going to go down the plug hole?"
Fabian laughed. "No, course not, stupid. There's a grille over the drain."
Charlotte pushed off from the windows. "Fabian, where do you go to school?"
"Here, I use flexible rate learning programs on my terminal. But I'm going away to university. Father said I am. Cambridge, I hope. That's where he went. I want to do economics so I can take over the trading company from him."
"So when do you get out?"
"Out?"
"Of the Colonel Maitland."
"Oh, when we reach a port where Father has some business. Or if we go to a party."
"So how do you make friends?"
Fabian's good humour faded. He stood up in the middle of the pool. "There are the other kids on the party circuit. And I talk to people on the phone chatlink."
She swam over to him, and stood up, the water coming up to her elbows. His head tilted up to look at her.
"That's nice," she said. "You must meet a lot of varied people."
Fabian nodded. His gaze dropped to the scoop of her swimsuit and stayed there. She eased her chest forward a fraction. Regretting it almost immediately as Fabian became very still; teasing him was such a delicate business. He was on the verge of panic.
"Yes?" she said gently.
"Charlotte. . ." He visibly gathered courage. "Charlotte, can I kiss you now? You don't have to say yes."
She took a slow step forwards, amused by his suddenly startled expression. Her hands held his shoulders, and she gave him a long kiss, finishing by sucking his lower lip as they parted.
If anything Fabian looked even more confused and lost than usual.
"Didn't you like that?" she asked.
"Crikey, yes! It's just—"
She gave him a fast impersonal kiss on the tip of his nose. "Don't feel guilty, Fabian. Never that. I'm here for you."
"I didn't ask for you to be brought on board," he said defensively.
"I know. So, friends?"
"Yes." He gave an anxious nod, then experimented with a grin.
"Good."
"Why did you want to know about my friends?" he asked.
"Just curious."
"Where do you live?"
"I have a flat in the Prezda, that's an Austrian arcology."
"But you can't live there much."
"No. I don't suppose I do. But it's nice to have somewhere to call home. Somewhere you can always return to and shut the door on the rest of the world. Everybody needs that."
"If you don't live there much, then you can't have many real friends either. Not steady ones."
Charlotte couldn't manage to summon up her usual smile. "Fabian, have you got a bioware processor implant?"
His satisfied expression dissolved into perplexity. "No. Of course not. Why?"
"Because you're a very bright boy, that's why."
His grin reappeared. "Really? You really think so?"
"Yes."
"I didn't want to be rude," he said contritely. "I thought—"
"Go on, I don't bite."
"Well, I thought that might be why you decided to come with me, because we were both the same. Neither of us has anybody really close."
She let the water flow back over her, twisting idly.
"Could be."
* * * *
Charlotte waited for an hour after dinner before she tapped on Fabian's door. The meal had been another exercise in high discomfort; the three of them sitting in the aft dining-room as the twilight faded into night. Jason Whitehurst had asked about New London again. Where she stayed, who she'd met, actually wanting to know which flights she'd used, for Heaven's sake. Even Fabian had begun to shift uncomfortably in his seat.
"Busy?" Charlotte asked.
Fabian shook his head, and backed away from the door. The flatscreen on the wall was showing a Western. His cabin's layout was similar to hers, but personalized, with clothes scattered about, real books piled on the dresser, shoes underfoot. Biolum panels glowed dully, reddish pink embers.
Charlotte closed the door. Fabian gave the impression of wanting to jump on her, and flee at the same time. He stared miserably at his bare feet.
"I wasn't sure if you'd really turn up," he said in a thick voice. "I still think you might be a dream."
Charlotte turned the flatscreen off, deepening the shadows. "Fabian?"
"Yes?"
"Am I really so hard to look at?"
When he lifted his head she gently pushed the lock of hair from his forehead, then put her hands on his cheeks and kissed him. His skin was singularly smooth under her fingers.
She let go, slightly disturbed by the amount of adoration in his gaze. "Before we go any further, I just wanted to thank you."
"Me? What for?"
"For not trying to order me about."
"I wouldn't do that. Honestly."
"Yes. I know." Charlotte showed him a slow enticing smile.
"And now you don't have to." She slipped the straps off her shoulders in an easy motion and let the gown slide to the carpet with a silky rustle. Her self-control nearly cracked at the sight of the outright astonishment on his face as he stared at her breasts. Baronski had said they were big enough not to need enlarging, but she'd taken a hormone course to strengthen the Cooper's ligaments which supported the ductal lobes, keeping them high and firm.
Fabian flipped his hair aside, and scrambled for his shirt buttons, his eyes never leaving her.
"No," she said, and the huskiness of her tone surprised even her. "I'll do that."
She started at his collar, kissing his skin as it was exposed, moving down his chest on to his belly. There were no blemishes, nor spots, it was baby-flesh. She reached his shorts, and pulled them down along with his pants.
Fabian was biting his lower lip, drawing breath in judders when she rose to stand in front of him. She slithered quickly out of her panties.
"Bed," she said, and took him by the hand.
He lay down on the rumpled sheets, an almost fearful expression on his face. Charlotte sat across his hips, her gaze holding his eyes for a long moment, then slowly leant forwards.
It was a strange sensation, to be in bed with someone so inexperienced, having to guide and whisper encouragement. But she discovered a secret miscreant pleasure in being dominant for once, bigger and stronger. It was exciting listening to him whimper as her fingers dug into his hard buttocks, tongue making love to his erection. She let him play with her breasts for a long time.
Then finally he was up between her legs, pumping wildly. It was over quickly, Fabian crying out as he fell on top of her.
She held him until his shaking passed. Kissing his brow as she gently stroked his spine.
"I got it all wrong, didn't I?" he said wretchedly.
"No, not at all. I've known of some people who get so wound up the first time that they just freeze. That hardly happened to you, now did it? You'll learn how to make it good for both of us."
"So it wasn't good for you, then?"
She sighed. Even now his mind functioned like a 'ware chip. "This was your night, Fabian."
"But you let me do anything I wanted to you. Anything. You never stopped me."
"Was that so terrible? Didn't you like it?"
"God yes, you're so beautiful. It's brilliant enough just being able to look at you and touch you, but sex with you is like going to heaven."
She had to strain hard not to laugh. He really was cute.
"Sex is whatever you enjoy, providing it doesn't hurt your partner."
He raised himself on his elbows, looking down on her body with a sheepish awe. "Please, Charlotte, show me how to make you enjoy it. I want to thrill you, I want to make you as excited as I am, I want to be the greatest lover you've ever had. Please. Just show me how. Please, Charlotte."
Now how long had it been since she'd had a request like that? If ever. She grinned lazily, and stretched her a
rms above her head, arching her back. "Do you know what an erogenous zone is?"
"Course I know!"
She giggled. "Ah, but where are they?"
His indignation faltered.
Charlotte caught one of his hands; she gently kissed the tip of each finger, licking with feline provocation, then guided him across her abdomen.
Chapter Six
Suzi was sunbathing on the balcony when she heard the piccolo hiss of the executive hypersonic's compressor fans. Darkness swept over her, accompanied by a wave of half-imaginary cold as the boiling afternoon sun was eclipsed by the little arrowhead plane.
Suzi opened her eyes and squinted up, but there was too much glare to make out the fuselage insignia. Andria sat up beside her, long hand shielding her eyes from the sun as she watched the hypersonic settle on the condominium's roof pad two storeys above them.
"I don't recognize it," the girl said.
Suzi turned on to her back, shuffling her shoulders until the lounger's cushioning was comfortable. "It's an Event Horizon Pegasus CV-1 88D," she mumbled with her eyes closed again. "Their latest marque."
Andria laughed. "No, Suse, I meant, I don't know who it belongs to. I don't think it belongs to any of the residents."
That laugh did things to Suzi's brain that could normally only be achieved by a hefty infusion of proscribed substances, it was carefree and warm, amazingly sultry. She lifted her head to look at the naked girl on the lounger beside her.
Andria was nineteen, her body lean and long limbed, dark wavy hair falling below her shoulders. She had a heart-shaped face with a flat nose, and wide ever-curious eyes that never seemed to stay focused on anything for more than a few seconds. The whole world was a constant delight to Andria, she had to try and see all of it at once. Then there was her shyness, which was a provocative aphrodisiac.
Her pregnancy didn't show yet. Six weeks after the private London clinic specializing in parthenogenetic reproduction had fertilized Suzi's ovum and planted it securely inside Andria, the girl's coffee-coloured belly was still flat and firm.
They had met in a New Eastfield nightclub last October, Suzi celebrating a finance sink deal with some of her team, Andria on a night out with her boyfriend.
It took Suzi three weeks to lure Andria into bed, shamelessly exploiting the girl's sunny, trusting nature. She hadn't pursued anyone with such determination since her Trinities days; it was like being drunk on raw lust. Their first night together was worth every agonizing second of the wait. She used Andria's body to work off fantasy after fantasy, only to find it just left her wanting more. It meant that for the first time in a long while Suzi had been forced to tell someone how much she felt about them.