“But philosophically that’s an approach that leads to a constant state of imbalance, even warfare among various life-forms. It’s a destructive theory and leads to a destructive methodology of exploration.”
“Maybe that’s why Harmonics don’t visit Renaissance very often. They can’t quite approve of the way we’re attacking the planet. The principles of company exploration don’t follow the principles of the Klinian Laws. The folks back in Clementia are hungry for new knowledge, but getting it sometimes conflicts with their basic beliefs.”
“It can be an uncomfortable quandary,” Cidra explained diffidently.
“You bet your Book of Ritual it can.”
Cidra smiled. “You’ve studied it?”
“Had to a long time ago.” Desma chuckled. “My husband, Fence, and I were married in a full-scale Harmonic High Ritual wedding ceremony. Well, almost full-scale. We did skip the two hours of meditation and telepathic communion that’s supposed to take place in the middle. The guests would have been bored stiff during the meditation, and nobody present was telepathic.”
“It’s a very beautiful ceremony,” Cidra said softly, knowing many non-Harmonics used it to lend solemnity and ritual to the nuptials.
“It’s supposed to be a lucky way to start marriage, and I guess it’s worked so far for us. I’m still married to the man, although he can be a pain in the rump on occasion.”
“Luck? There’s no luck involved in a High Ritual ceremony! It’s a matter of philosophy and focusing, not luck.”
Desma grinned. “Another matter of adaptation. Wolves use the ceremony because they think it’s lucky, among other things.”
“That’s a terrible misunderstanding of the underlying philosophy of the ceremony,” Cidra protested.
“Ummm.” But Desma was no longer paying any attention to her companion. She was gazing with narrowed eyes at a man who was levering himself away from the bar and starting toward the table occupied by the two women. “Speaking of unharmonious principles,” Desma murmured, “did Severance ever tell you he once had a partner?”
“You mean his brother?”
“No. A man named Racer.”
Cidra frowned thoughtfully and turned to glance at the man in a khaki ship suit who was weaving his way through the crowd. “Severance mentioned something about a partnership that was dissolved some time back. He didn’t talk much about it or about the other man.”
“Hardly surprising. The two of them hate each other’s guts.”
Desma leaned forward conspiratorially “Do me a favor. If Severance ever asks what you did or who you met this evening, don’t mention Racer.”
Cidra wrinkled her brow. “You want me to lie to him?”
“You will if you’re at all interested in maintaining any semblance of harmony in the universe.” Desma broke off with a superficial smile as the man halted beside the table. “Hello, Racer. I didn’t know you were in port.”
“Life,” said Cord Racer, looking down at Cidra, “is just one renegade’s surprise after another.”
Severance stepped out onto the tough membrane that served as pavement on the streets of Try Again. Behind him the door panel of the building that had once housed the offices of ExcellEx snapped shut to the accompanying hiss of the antibug deflector screens. Severance wished that the local ExcellEx rep were a bug. He’d like to see him sizzled by the screen’s electronic impulses. Damn Quench, and damn the whole fast-moving ExcellEx corporation.
Severance kept to the side of the street although it wasn’t difficult to dodge the few runners and sleds that were zipping from one end of town to the other. Try Again was not big enough to warrant a lot of vehicular traffic. Most people walked from one point to the other.
Above him the night sky proudly displayed Renaissance’s twin moons, Borgia and Medici. A record of the words had survived the colony ship’s crash two hundred years ago, but the references had been lost. Some research indicated that they were linked to the term Renaissance, and so the names had been attached to its moons. There was a constant hum from the jungle on the other side of the triton walls. As he walked toward Desma’s house Severance batted absently at one or two night-flying insects that somehow escaped a deflector screen. His mind was occupied with the task of telling Cidra that plans had changed.
She wasn’t going to be thrilled. She had been counting on at least five days here at Try Again. Time enough to consult local archives and the tall tales of exploration men. She was going to be upset when he informed her that they were leaving the day after tomorrow.
Well, he couldn’t help the inconvenience, Severance told himself. Cidra was the one who had insisted on a crew contract. She would just have to learn to accommodate herself to the unpredictable schedules of a mail ship.
He turned a corner, heading down the street that was lined with the majority of Try Again’s company stores and taverns. The distant hum of the jungle was a familiar sound, and he tuned it out. After a year as a bonus man he had developed fairly good instincts for Renaissance. A man either learned when to get nervous or he died learning. Companies didn’t pay huge bonus credit for ordinary manual labor. Bonus credit was paid for risks, and risks on Renaissance were usually in the life-and-death category.
“Hey, Severance.” A man emerging from a nearby tavern hailed him. “You the one who just hit port with a Harmonic in tow?”
Severance halted. “Hello, Craft. As usual you’re up to date. A man would think you’re telepathic yourself, the way you always seem to know the latest gossip. How did you know about Cidra?”
Craft chuckled, unoffended. He’d known Teague Severance a long time. “No magic this time. Saw her with Desma Kady ‘bout an hour ago. They’re in the Bloodsucker.” He nodded up the street.
Severance swore in disgust. “Desma took her there?”
“It’s not like we got a whole lot of choice when it comes to night spots in this town,” Craft reminded him. His faded, friendly eyes assessed Severance in the poor light. “Nothing to get upset about. Looked to me like they were both having a good time.”
“You wouldn’t think someone raised in Clementia would have developed a fascination for dives like the Bloodsucker, would you? The lady’s taste seems to be degenerating.” Severance sighed and moved off purposefully. “See you, Craft.”
“Sure.” The older man nodded, but Severance was no longer looking at him. He was heading toward the Bloodsucker. Craft chuckled again to himself and decided that he could use another drink after all. He went back into the tavern from which he had just emerged. Bound to be some folks inside who’d want to hear about Severance and the little Harmonic. And Cord Racer’s presence added a nice extra fillip. Too bad he hadn’t had a chance to mention Racer to Severance. No matter. They’d find each other soon enough, and word had it that Racer had already found the little Harmonic.
Desma watched Racer settle into conversation with Cidra. There wasn’t much she could do to stop it, short of making a scene and hauling the younger woman out of the tavern. A woman born in Clementia, Harmonic or otherwise, would be thoroughly humiliated at being the object of the kind of attention that would garner.
Objectively speaking, there was nothing wrong with Racer. He was reasonably well mannered, especially compared to the majority of Try Again’s population. He was good-looking in an open, breezy kind of way. Red-haired with blue-green eyes and a disarming sprinkling of freckles across his nose, Racer was tall and physically well proportioned. He wore the snug-fitting khaki ship suit and boots with a certain swagger that was not offensive. Women tended to find it endearing, in fact. About the same age as his former partner, Cord Racer was also doing very well for himself as a mail pilot. And he was better educated than the average pilot. Desma had already sensed that for Cidra, intelligence and a good education were vastly more alluring than physical attractiveness in a man. The result of her Harmonic upbringing, Desma supposed.
The only thing wrong with Racer was the hostility that simmered just below th
e surface whenever he and Severance came in contact. No one, not even that professional gossip, Georg Craft, knew what had dissolved the partnership three planet years ago, but whatever it was, it had been traumatic and probably violent. Everyone was amazed that one of them hadn’t made sure the other suffered some sort of unpleasant accident over the years. Perhaps they avoided it by taking pains to avoid each other.
Cidra responded warily to Racer’s cheerful conversation. She used formal politeness as a facade behind which she could hide while she analyzed the man. If Severance disliked him as intensely as Desma seemed to think, there had to be a reason. But for the life of her Cidra couldn’t find anything particularly jarring or dismaying about Cord Racer. He seemed quite pleasant.
“How long will you be here on Renaissance?” she inquired politely during a short break in the conversation.
“I’ll be leaving soon. Got a run for QED. Is it true you’re on crew contract with Severance?”
“Quite true.”
“Mind my asking exactly what you do for him? I mean, I have a ship the same size and class as Severance Pay, and to be honest, they’re a one-man operation.”
Desma spoke coolly. “The nature of her work on board is hardly any of your business, Racer.”
Racer shrugged. “Just curious.”
“It’s all right,” Cidra said quickly, sensing the tension in Desma. “I’m doing some programming work for him. In return he’s providing me with free passage.”
“Ah, I get it,” Racer said easily. “A business arrangement.” “Exactly.”
Desma made another attempt to take hold of the conversation. “Cidra, it’s getting late. We should probably be heading home.”
“You’re staying with Desma?” Racer asked, ignoring the older woman.
Cidra nodded, smiling. “That’s right. She’s been most gracious. I’ll be at her place for the next few days while Severance picks up some mail and arranges some delivery contracts.”
“Desma, here, is a very nice lady,” Racer said agreeably.
“Desma,” announced Desma in tones of foreboding as she looked over Racer’s shoulder, “may have just made her worst mistake of the season.” She smiled weakly. “Hi, Severance. Cidra and I were just about to leave.”
“I know.” Severance sounded very sure of that fact. He arrived at the table and stood looking down at Cidra. He didn’t even glance at Racer. “I came to escort you home. Let’s go.” He reached out to put his large hand under Cidra’s arm and hauled her unceremoniously to her feet.
“Severance, please!” Cidra was mortified by the rudeness.
“Take it easy, Severance,” Racer said coolly, climbing out of the chair he’d been straddling. “Maybe the lady isn’t ready to leave yet.”
Desma got uneasily out of her seat, paying the tab quickly with a credit slip.
“The lady works for me,” Severance said, still not bothering to look at Racer. “And I say she’s ready to leave. Aren’t you, Cidra?”
“There is no need to be so impatient,” Cidra hissed, aware of his fingers digging into her arm. “What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you were gong to spend the night on board the ship.”
“I came to tell you that there’s been a change in plans. I’ll explain outside.” He flicked a glance at Desma. “Are you coming?’’
“I’m coming.” Desma stifled a groan as she saw the embarrassment on Cidra’s face. “You could be a little less heavy-handed, Teague.”
“And you could use a little more judgment, Desma.”
“Severance!” Cidra was more than embarrassed now. She was shocked. “This is my hostess. You will not talk to her in this way.”
“Forget it,” Desma advised. “I’ve heard worse. Let’s get going.”
Racer stepped closer to Cidra, his blue-green eyes concerned. “Are you sure you want to go with him, Cidra? Just because you’re under contract doesn’t mean you have to let him ride you this way.”
“Stay out of this, Racer.” Severance finally deigned to glance at Racer. His eyes were full of warning, and something else. Something that might have been contempt.
“If the lady wants my assistance, she’s got it.” Racer returned the contempt with a rough hostility.
Cidra realized immediately that she was not the issue. She was the catalyst both men were using to confront each other. The tension in the air was almost palpable. The two Wolves were circling each other, searching for openings and excuses for battle. She had to put a stop to it at once. She smiled tentatively. “It’s all right, Racer. I really must be going. It’s been pleasant chatting with you. Perhaps some other time?”
“Any other time,” Racer stressed, his eyes locked with Severance’s. “Any other time you want.”
“Don’t hold your breath,” Severance advised. He turned away, more or less dragging Cidra with him. Desma followed without further demur.
Cidra waited until the three of them were out on the street before she gave way to her feelings of humiliation and anger. Then she rounded on Severance. “I have never been so thoroughly embarrassed in my entire life, Teague Severance. You have the manners of a torla. You should be ashamed of yourself, and if you’re not, it’s only because you don’t have the sensitivity to manage it! How can you possibly excuse such ill-mannered behavior?”
“I won’t bother to find any excuses. I don’t have to find any excuses. I’m your employer, remember? And this is a direct order: Stay clear of Racer.”
“You’ll have to provide a reasonable explanation for such a ridiculous order.”
“As long as you’re on crew contract I don’t owe you any explanations. Want to terminate the contract right now? Your option.”
“Easy, Severance,” Desma advised softly.
Cidra threw herself back into the argument. A temper she had never dreamed existed seemed to be bubbling alive inside her. It was as if the hot, humid air of the planet had stirred the heat in her veins. “Don’t you dare threaten me, Severance. I demand a full apology for the scene you created in that tavern.”
“You’re not going to get one. Make up your mind, Cidra. Are you under contract or not?”
“You’re not going to get rid of me this easily! I won’t let you use a stupid argument like this one to force me to terminate the contract.”
“Fine. Then you’ll follow orders.”
Desma tried again, saying mildly, “Why did you come looking for us in the first place, Severance?”
He glared at Desma and then at Cidra as they arrived at the Kadys’ octagonal home. Cidra thought he hesitated for an instant before dropping his bombshell. “ExcellEx has moved its main operations to a field camp upriver. They want the sensors delivered there. I’ve made the arrangements. We’re leaving the day after tomorrow I’ve contracted with a guide who’s taking some other supplies to the camp.”
Cidra blinked, realizing what that meant. “But my research! I haven’t even started. Severance, I’m not ready to leave Try Again yet. I have so much to do.”
“Then you shouldn’t have wasted an entire evening in a place like the Bloodsucker, should you?”
Desma moved toward the door. “If you’ll excuse me,” she said dryly, “I’m going inside. I’ve got a squeamish stomach.” The deflectors hissed behind her, leaving Severance and Cidra alone on the membrane.
“Severance, is this really necessary, or are you concocting some excuse to leave town because that man Racer is here?”
“Racer is strictly second-class postage. I wouldn’t let him affect anything I do. We’re leaving at dawn the day after tomorrow because I’m running a business. I’ve contracted to deliver the sensors, and that’s what I’m going to do. As long as you choose to work for me you stay with me. Understood?”
“Oh, you’re doing an excellent job of making yourself clear.”
He closed his eyes in brief disgust. “I’m sorry, Cidra. This can’t be helped. The potential of more work for ExcellEx is too good to pass up. There’ll be other opp
ortunities here for you to search the Try Again files.”
She considered the matter. “You could leave me behind while you make the run to the field camp.”
Severance’s eyes were very steady. “Not a chance. I’m not leaving you alone here. As long as you work for me I’m responsible for you. I want you where I can keep an eye on you.”
“It is Racer, isn’t it? You don’t want me left here near him. Why do you hate him so much, Severance?”
“That subject isn’t open to discussion. Good night, Cidra.”
“Good night, Severance.” She turned stiffly, the hem of her gown swirling around her. “I hope you enjoy what’s left of the night.”
He caught her arm, spinning her around to face him. She sucked in her breath as she saw the glittering intensity in his eyes. Before she could say anything, he was kissing her, his mouth hard and possessive on hers. She shivered in his grasp, a soft moan echoing far back in her throat. When he lifted his head, Cidra had to put out a hand to steady herself. Wide-eyed, she stared at him.
“I won’t, you know,” Severance said too calmly.
“W-won’t what?”
“Enjoy what’s left of the night.”
“What’s the matter?” she flung back. “Didn’t your arrangements for a little special handling work out?”
“No. Fred doesn’t take to strangers on board.” He released her and pushed her gently toward the door panels. “Go inside, Cidra. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Cidra was safely through the panels when she realized with a secret satisfaction that Fred had never seriously objected to her presence on board Severance Pay.
A muted but nerve-rasping whistle woke Cidra several hours later. The sound seemed to pierce right through her mind, bringing her to a sitting position in bed with a pounding heart. She was gazing at the door to her room, trying to remember where she was when it opened. Desma Kady stood there, struggling into a white lab suit.
“Don’t worry, Cidra. It’s just an equipment alarm from the lab. Probably means the air filtration system has gone down again. I didn’t see any lights when I looked out the window, so it could be that the lighting timer has failed too. Damn. If it isn’t one thing, it’s another. You have no idea how hard it is to keep machinery in good repair here on Renaissance. The last time this happened we found several kilos of swarming doomlizards tangled in the filtration fans. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”