The walls faded, leaving them in a dark blue sky, much higher above the ground than before. The city was gone; nothing showed but blue water. The sky darkened until they floated in a tapestry of stars, far more than were visible from Earth, a wonderland of gems set in the black sable of space.
Ricki hung onto Del as if she believed she really could fall. She pressed against him, her body soft and bare in his arms, and he slid his thigh between her legs. She rubbed against him, a languorous movement of her pelvis that set his pulse racing.
Del slid his hands over her behind and bit at her earlobe. "We need a moon, too."
A crescent appeared in the distance, glowing gold. Del saw it over her shoulder. When he focused, they floated toward the moon. Ricki tensed in his arms, looking down. And for her, it was "down." Del didn't feel any gravity, but she was clearly being pulled toward the world below. He didn't know why they interpreted the virtual reality differently, but he suspected his bliss-node gave him much greater control than a typical setup.
Nothing was visible of the world except for a rim of sunlight on the curved horizon. Then even that disappeared, and they were alone in the starfield and the night sky.
"Don't let go," Ricki said. Her voice shook.
"I won't." Her fear surprised him. Then again, he knew from his own experiences that sims could be so convincing, they could hurt you. Ricki wouldn't really fall if he let go, but it might be so real to her that her heart stopped.
"Come here, sweetheart." Del put both arms around her waist.
She laid her head on his shoulder. "You're the only person I like to call me that." She hugged him close, squeezing his leg with her thighs, her breaths speeding up. It was incredibly erotic, having her want him this way, caught up here in the stars.
While they were kissing, they bumped into the moon. It hung in space, a diamond crescent about six feet long, haloed by gold light. Del settled Ricki on it so she was straddling the crescent. She watched him with her sleepy eyes and tousled hair like an erotica holo-movie goddess, all creamy skin and those sexy shoes. The halo limned her body in gold, glimmering on her breasts, her skin, and her impossibly high stilettos.
"You look like an angel," Del said. "A naughty angel I captured when she snuck out of the heavens."
Her smile curved. "Then you should climb up here and be a bad boy with me."
Del tried to slide onto the crescent, facing her, but it wasn't big enough, and he almost knocked her off. She grabbed him, clutching his biceps, and paled as she looked down.
"Don't be scared," he said. "I'll hold you." He tried to pull her closer, but their knees bumped. It was hard to stay balanced. In images he had seen of Earth folk tales, the person sitting on the moon always looked comfortable, but this just didn't work.
"We need a bigger moon," Del said.
"This is the only one in my inventory." She was swinging one leg, flexing her thigh in the most distracting way. "I'd have to shop for another."
Del stroked her thigh. "You didn't make this moon?"
"Well, no . . ." She sighed as he caressed her. "Most people don't do their own design. You need to write mesh . . . code."
"I do it." His bliss-node wrote the code for him if he interacted with it well enough. It had taken a while to figure out how, but he was always improving. "It's easy."
"Such a talented man." She lifted his hand and put his index finger in her mouth, teasing with her tongue. "Come show me what else you can do."
Gods. He pulled her against his body and let them fall off the moon. Ricky clung to him, her arms around his neck, her silken curves pressed against his as they spun through the starfield. Del kissed her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist.
He spoke against her ear. "Do you know how many men would like to be where I am?"
"Hmmm." She moved against him, sensual and demanding. "Come on, Del," she murmured. "Don't make me wait."
He fondled her breast, teasing her because it aroused him to see her so hot for him. "You look incredibly sweet, but you can break almost anyone in the industry. It's all that power wrapped up in this soft, sexy package. Do you have any idea how many men would like to have you naked and hungry like this?" He knew what they wanted, to have her helpless while they were in control. Because no one could have Ricki Varento that way. Except him.
She drew back, watching him with her large eyes. "Why are you telling me this?"
The wicked smile tugged his lips. " 'Cause it turns me on." He didn't tell her the rest, because he didn't want to scare her away. By bringing him here, she let him see her without the power she wore like armor. No wonder she didn't want him near her in the morning. When she slept, she looked like a child, trusting and innocent. She protected her emotions more fiercely than the military protected its secrets. Why, he didn't know. He couldn't break her mental barriers without hurting her, and he wouldn't force those secrets out of her any more than he would force her to sleep with him.
An incongruous tenderness mixed into the aggression that fueled his desire. He wanted both to take her hard and fast, and to caress her gently. She closed her eyes and laid her head on his shoulder while she rocked against him, rubbing in just the right place.
"Ah, gods . . ." Del's thoughts fragmented. He fumbled with his pants, but he couldn't unfasten them. Then they dissolved, just as hers had done. She lifted her hips and slid down on him, sheathing him inside of her while she moved her hips, slow and maddening.
Del groaned and thrust harder, his hands gripped on her behind. As they floated through the starfield, Ricki whispered things in his ear no decent Lyshrioli girl would ever have said, or even known what they meant, and it drove him crazy. He teased her with his body, pleasured her, enjoyed her, and it felt so damn good, he would have been happy to stay here in the bliss forever.
Finally they both let go, and their sensations flooded him. And when his control fell apart, he thought he whispered what he had sworn never to say, that he loved her.
Later, while he held a sleeping, sated Ricki in his arms, he looked at the record of their session and found no trace of the words. They had stayed hidden in his mind, keeping him safe.
Mac was standing by his office door, pulling on his climate-controlled sweater, when Del showed up.
"He wants to license the new virt I'm working on." Del paced across the office. Watching Del in constant motion, Mac felt old; he was tired and wanted to go home. But Del seemed troubled
"It makes sense," Mac said. "The Jewels Suite is doing well for Metropoli Interstellar."
"Staver bothers me." Del stopped to regard Mac. "What do you know about him?"
"He's high up at Metropoli Interstellar," Mac said. "He has a strong track record with the acts he exports. Socially, he's conservative. Other than that, I can't say."
"Can you find out more?"
"Sure." It wasn't the first time someone had asked Mac to check out a buyer. He had uncovered several scams by listening to the intuition of his clients. "I'll let you know what I find out."
"Thanks." Then Del said, "Oh, I almost forgot. Did you get my royalty payment from Prime-Nova?"
"Not yesterday." Mac walked back to his console. "But it should be soon. I meshed them about it last week."
Del scowled. "It was supposed to come a month ago."
"Well, yeah." It was always the same story; the conglomerate held out long enough to earn extra interest on the money but not quite enough to provoke the artist into legal action. Mac could estimate to within days when payment would come.
He checked the evoc, or evocative mail, on his node. "You do have something with a 'good mood' rating." Opening the file, he glanced over the first part. "Yep, this is it. I'll zip it to your account, minus my commission."
"Okay." Del came closer. "Do I get any money?"
"Wait a second, I have to open—" Mac stopped and stared.
"What?" Del peered at the grid of numbers and letters on the screen. "What does it say?"
Mac straightened up. "
Yes, you made some money."
"Why are you grinning?" Del asked suspiciously. "My finances suddenly became funny?"
"No." Then Mac said, "Two hundred forty-three thousand."
"Two hundred forty-three thousand what?"
"Dollars."
"What about them?"
"Del!" Mac laughed. "That's the royalties after Ricki's cut and your loans are deducted."
Del stared at him. "Two hundred thousand?"
"Yep. That's it."
"Whoa." Del took a moment to absorb it. "I didn't expect it to come all at once."
"What to come all at once?" Mac asked.
"All my royalties for the album and singles."
"Are you kidding?" Mac liked giving good news. "That's the tip of an iceberg. You're going to see a lot more than that on your next statement."
Del let out a breath, half a laugh, half disbelief. "Hey! I'm really 'earning a wage.' "
"A good one."
Del's smile flashed in his handsome face. "I'm going to buy the fastest hover racer I can find."
Oh, well. Here it went. Mac almost didn't say anything. But no, he should at least try. "You should save some of it."
"Why?" Del asked.
"Invest it. Use it to make more money."
Del squinted at him. "I don't know how to invest."
"Then learn."
He expected Del to brush him off, like his holo-rock clients usually did. Instead, the youth said, "Can you help me?"
Well, how about that. "I'll be glad to."
"I have to go now, though." Del tilted his head at the door. "Cameron and Tyra are out there pacing like caged lions. And monitoring us. I hope you don't mind."
"It's all right." Mac expected as much. "Need a ride home?"
"Hey, thanks." Del pulled himself up straighter. "But I can afford as many taxis as I want now. I could buy the business!"
"Slow down," Mac said, laughing. "Don't spend it all before it's even in your account."
"Only for essentials." Del had an odd look. "For freedom."
Mac understood then. Financial independence. For all that Del resisted his family, he had the same pride that drove them all. In Del, it manifested in his resistance to the limits they imposed and his desire for independence; on a greater scale, it showed in the determination of the Ruby Dynasty to resist the Traders despite the losses Del's family had endured at their hands.
Fortunately, Del wasn't involved in the politics. He kept far away from the power struggles that were tearing apart his people.
XXI: Trade Off
The Jewels Suite hit number five on the anthology chart the same day Prime-Nova released Starlight, Del's second anthology.
Starlight had twelve of Del's original works, with the title cut, "Starlight Child," as a tribute to his sons. He also covered two other songs, including a classic from the long-ago twentieth century, "Because the Night" by Patti Smith and Bruce Springteen. Prime-Nova chose it for him. Ricki said, "you'll sizzle off the scale with it." Dell didn't know about that; he had never seen what he did that sizzled. But he liked the song, and when he sang it, the response from his audience was great. So he added it to all his concerts.
The second cover was "The Sound of Silence," written by a duo called Simon and Garfunkel. This one he chose. He had started to write his own song with that theme, then discovered these artists from Earth's past had done it much better. It described perfectly how the Allieds refused to see the truth about the Traders. They heard what the Skolian government said, but they never listened. Del wanted to shout his anger; his people were losing their freedom and their lives, yet the Allieds turned away.
Starlight debuted at number six on the anthology chart. Two weeks later, The Jewels Suite peaked at four, the highest position it would ever attain.
That same week, Starlight hit number one.
* * *
The party was huge. Prime-Nova rented an entire floor of the Star Tower Sheraton. They created a starlight motif using tech Del didn't understand, "holo digicals," whatever that meant. The place looked as if it were floating in the stars.
They were one floor beneath the glass-walled room where he had spent his first night with Ricki. It had been over a year since then, and the confused farm boy had vanished, replaced by one of the best known celebrities in popular entertainment. He was still confused, but it was a lot easier to take when he was independently wealthy with no help from his family and everyone loved his music.
Except they didn't all really love it. That was the problem with being an empath. He knew what they felt. Some of those who raved about his work meant it, but others said the words as their ticket to his party. A vivid thought from one exec jumped out at Del; the man would rather be strapped across the exhaust vents of a launching starship than listen to Del's music.
Others wanted to use him. A holo-producer talked to him about doing a holo-movie virt. He acted as if he were Del's best friend, but he felt nothing of the kind. He saw Del as a commodity to exploit. He didn't ask if Del had acting experience; apparently movie techs were even better than music techs at creating stars out of nothing. Which was fortunate, because Del couldn't even read a script, let alone act.
Some people wanted to use him in other ways. He was growing used to the invitations from women, some subtle, some blatant. Just when he would start to feel cocky, as if he were some rock sex god, he would meet someone like the woman here who wondered if everyone had gone nuts or was suffering from some bizarre mass hypnosis, that they got turned on by a skinny kid with shaggy hair dyed a weird color. Del resisted the urge to tell her he did not dye his hair.
Very rich, powerful, married women discreetly indicated their interest. So did several very rich, powerful, married men. At that point, Del went on a desperate search for Ricki, who had vanished with Orin the Exec and some other glitzy types.
"Del, wait!" someone said behind him in the crowd.
Del almost didn't turn around. The pressure from so many minds in one place wore him down. It was even more difficult tonight because Prime-Nova had thrown this bash in his honor, which meant people focused on him, creating a greater pressure. He had enjoyed the party at first, but now he just wanted to escape back to his apartment and his bliss-node.
The man sounded like Staver, though. So Del turned.
Staver took his elbow. "We have to leave."
"Stop it!" Del yanked away his arm. If one more person touched him without his permission, he was going to lose it.
"You don't understand," Staver said. "We can't—"
"Del, here you are," an authoritative voice said. Someone laid a hand on his shoulder. "I've been looking for you."
Del turned around. "Zachary. Hi." He barely stopped himself from shoving the vice president away.
"I want you to meet someone," Zachary said.
Staver's face paled. "Del, no. Don't."
Del felt Staver trying to reach his mind. He shook his head, too agitated to answer. He couldn't lower his barriers with so many people here.
"What's the problem, Aunchild?" Zachary asked coldly.
"I have to talk to him," Staver said.
"I'll be back," Del said. "I just need some air." A year ago, he hadn't understood why people on Earth said they needed air when they were obviously breathing, but now it made perfect sense.
Staver tried to protest, but Zachary maneuvered Del away. The crowd parted for Prime-Nova's tech-mech king and closed behind him, blocking Staver's way.
"Over here," Zachary said. Although he smiled, unease leaked from his mind. "It looks like you may hit an even bigger market."
"Great." Del took a breath, trying to calm down. If this was a potential buyer, he wanted to make a good impression.
Zachary called to a tall man standing by the bar, surrounded by people. One instant passed between Zachary's call and Del's recognition of the name he spoke.
Lord Tarex.
An Aristo name.
Del went ice cold. In that moment, the
man at the bar turned around. Del met his gaze and wanted to scream. Tarex's eyes were red—pure, crystalline red. Like rubies. No, not rubies. Never rubies. Carnelians. Like the Carnelian Throne of the Trader emperor.
Then Del and Zachary were in the midst of Tarex's retinue, surrounded by Traders. The slave lord was a big man, broad-shouldered and powerfully built, with the shimmering black hair so distinctive of an Aristo. Del felt trapped, panicked, unable to breathe.
"Lord Tarex, let me present Del Arden." Zachary used the formal phrases expected for a dignitary. To Del he said, "Lord Tarex is the chief executive officer of Tarex Interstellar. He came here tonight to meet you."
Del stared at the Aristo, and Tarex met his gaze, his own as cold as interstellar space. Del felt as if he were falling into the void of Tarex's mind, plummeting, suffocating. Nor did Tarex miss that instant of comprehension. He stared at Del with a dawning realization of the hunter sighting his prey.
"Ah, yes," Tarex said. "I knew, when I saw you perform."
"Knew?" Del could barely speak.
"You're an empath," Tarex said.
Del backed away. He wanted to break into a run.
"Come on." A man grabbed his arm.
He looked up at Staver. "Get me out of here," Del whispered.
As Staver hurried him through the crowd, everything became a blur. The exec cut off anyone who tried to talk to them. At first Del didn't understand why people moved aside so easily; then he realized Tyra and Cameron were with them, clearing a path, had probably been there all along. Then they were in another room, an empty bedroom. Del collapsed against the wall and heaved in a breath. "Gods. It was like—like—"
"Like dying?" Staver asked. He dropped into a chair by the bed.
Another voice registered on Del. Tyra was talking to a console nearby. "—open a Kyle link. I'll give you the codes."
"No!" Del strode over to her, nearly tripping in the process, he was so shaken up. "Don't do that!"
Tyra stood up and swung around, facing him. She pointed her arm straight at the door that led back to the party. "There's a goddamned Silicate Aristo out there."
"Tarex doesn't know squat about me except that I'm an empath," Del said. "Which is probably obvious to any Aristo who sees me perform. Why the hell do you need to contact my brother?"