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Every night, he drifted off while gazing at the little bottle of pills and their mixture of promise and threat.
* * * *
Alpha Space Station, recreation deck
“It sounds as if Piras is everything you heard he was before he betrayed the men on Laro Station.” Stacy was chatting over drinks on the space station with Clan Rihep. “Before they started calling him a traitor, I mean.”
“He’s as tough as they say. Diplomacy isn’t his strong suit, judging by how compliments came out of his mouth as if he were choking on them,” Kuran said.
“Really?”
“The Earther saying, if looks could kill? He has a death stare like no one else I’ve met. No wonder everyone wanted to serve under him. Hell, I half-wanted to sign up for his squad after our meeting.” Kuran scowled at his glass of bohut, apparently begrudging having to praise the hated admiral.
“You do have profound masochistic tendencies. You should hear his taste in music,” Etnil said in a confiding tone.
“Lemanthev or rimnastin?” Stacy guessed, the two most popular styles on Kalquor.
“Alneusian bubble ballads.”
Stacy cracked up as Kuran grabbed his Imdiko’s head and pretended to twist it to break his neck.
“Okay, okay! It’s Adraf death dirges that go on for two hours straight.” Etnil rolled his eyes skyward and droned a single, low note for several seconds to demonstrate.
“Asshole.” Kuran was grinning, however. It was difficult to remain in a funk with a clanmate determined to ridicule everything for laughs.
Rihep chuckled. Since Kuran had managed to get through his meeting with Piras and hadn’t killed anyone, the Dramok was ready to relax. He signaled for a third round of drinks. A member of the harried staff of the space station’s popular club, who was trying to wait on the roomful of people, jerked a nod as he rushed by.
“How was your day?” Rihep asked Stacy.
“You mean once the panic over the missing computers was done?”
A shipment of units had eluded the staff readying the General Assembly’s chambers for the legislators. Stacy had overheard aides questioning whether the devices had even been delivered, so she’d contacted Rihep to ensure they had been. He’d been kind enough to spend an hour tracking down the warehouse where they’d been stored. A clerical error by an assembly staffer had placed them in the wrong storage area on the side of the city opposite of where they were supposed to be located.
“Thanks to you, the day was saved. I appreciate you figuring out what went wrong, when the issue was ours to solve.”
“I’m glad to have helped.” His smile made him boyishly handsome.
Stacy couldn’t resist smiling in return. “You have to let me buy at least one round of drinks to show my gratitude.”
“I’ll think about it.” He winked.
“I’m afraid to ask, but I will,” Stacy teased Etnil. “Did you have a good day?”
“Be nice,” Kuran warned, but his tone was amused.
“I had an amazing day, thank you for asking.” Etnil gave his Nobek a lofty expression, then beamed at Stacy. “I woke up, having slept well. I had a delicious breakfast. I was on time to work, and the station didn’t shake apart in shock at this once-in-a-lifetime event. A Nobek stopped in my office to cry over how much he misses his mommy, but I gave Kuran a piece of candy and patted his head—”
“I visit a different therapist on the station, not Etnil. I go because of the trauma of being his clanmate,” Kuran said.
“Oh, that’s uncalled for. I’m an excellent psychologist,” Etnil assured Stacy. “Feel free to tell me your troubles. Your dreams and goals. Your deepest, darkest fantasies. I assume they’ve starred me since we met?”
“Kill him,” Rihep sighed to Kuran. “But make it look like an accident.”
“He’s on my list and moving up since I’ve granted Piras and Kila a temporary pardon.”
Stacy laughed as their latest round of drinks arrived. Her face warmed; Etnil hadn’t dropped his regard since inviting her to divulge her fantasies. His expression was as mischievous as ever, but there was a flirtatious challenge to it.
“You flatter yourself,” she said, forcing nonchalance.
