Cecelia Holland - Floating Worlds

“Ice.”

She used the tongs to put two ice cubes into his glass. He fished one lump out with his fingers and put it in his mouth. She made herself another drink. His mustaches hung down past his collarbones, so Cam was right, he was her age, or a little older, thirty-five or forty. The ice crunched between his teeth.

“Do you want to see my credentials?” she said.

“I know who you are. What is this stuff?” He drank his glass empty.

“Scotch whiskey.”

“It’s not bad.”

She poured his glass full again, remembering Kary’s capacity. He ate the other ice cube. She stooped behind the bar, found a bowl in the back, and filled it with ice cubes and put it down on the counter next to him.

“From now on,” he said, “when I send for you, you come.”

“What did Cam tell you about us?”

“Nothing I didn’t already know.” He laid his forearms on the bar. “We know all about the Committee.” He stared at her a moment, eating ice. She busied herself neatening up the bar. The coppery stink was gone. He reached for the bottle and topped off his glass.

“This is Earthish, this drink?”

“Whiskey? Yes. It’s distilled in Scotland.”

“Is that where you live?”

She shook her head. “I grew up in Havana. Now I live in New York. You speak the Common Speech very well.”

His chest swelled; he was proud of that. “I taught myself. Reading engine manuals. Do you speak Styth?”

“Not very well.”

“Say something to me in Styth.”

She did not want him to know she was fluent. Ungrammatically, she said, “I hope you have a good time on Mars.”

“We’d better keep to the Common Speech.” He put his glass down with a thunk. His voice dropped half an octave under the weight of authority. “The Earth is an anarchy.”

“Yes.”

“No government. No laws. No army.”

“That’s right. No taxes, either.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Paula rolled whiskey on her tongue. It was late; she was tired, and she had to call Jefferson. She said, “Well, it won’t be the last time.”

His black eyes glinted. He folded his arms on the bar top. “Aren’t you supposed to be convincing me to trust you?”

“You’d be a fool to trust anybody. You don’t look like a fool to me.”

He stared at her a moment. Finally he slid off the stool and walked across the room. The back of his shirt was dark with sweat. His black hair was pulled down and knotted at the nape of his neck. She put her elbows on the bar. She did not want to talk much in this room before she had taken out any relics of Cam Savenia.

He said, “I can understand Savenia. She’s ambitious. She’s just hauling her own freight. What’s yours? What do you want in this?”

“It’s my job.”

He spun around, his hands on his hips. “Where I come from, women don’t have jobs—they stay home with their families where they belong.” He walked back up to the bar and leaned on it, bending over her. “Savenia says I shouldn’t believe anything the Committee tells me—you’re all thieves and liars.”

“Say flexible. It’s a nicer word.”

“Are you? What do you want? Money?”

She raised her head. “Are you offering me a bribe?”

“Yes.”

“To do what?”

“As you’re told.”

She burst out laughing. “How much did you pay the Nineveh not to interfere with you? I’ll bet it was too much. You should have come to the Committee. We’re good at negotiating bribes.”

He sat down again on the stool and reached for the ice. She caught a whiff of the coppery heat. He said, “You’re saying no?”

“That’s right.”

He mashed an ice cube in his teeth, his eyes on her. Paula smiled broadly at him. He was embarrassed; he pulled on his mustaches, getting his face in order.

“Are you married?”

“No. Anarchists don’t usually get married.”

“But you do breed.”

“Sometimes.”

“Do you have any children?”

She shook her head. He was leaning forward across the bar, attacking. “Why not? What are you waiting for? You’re already past the best age.”

“I’m too busy to have a baby.”

“Too busy doing what?”

“My job. My own life.”

“That’s not much of a substitute.”

She finished her drink and put the glass down. “Well, I like it.” His hands lay flat on the bar. His long fingers were tipped in heavy black claws.

He said, “If somebody tried to bribe me, I wouldn’t laugh,” and the claws flexed.

“Aren’t you glad I’m a pacifist?”

He stood up. She raised her head to follow him. He was over six and a half feet tall. Short, for a Styth. She said pensively, “I guess it wouldn’t matter.”

“You’re damned right it wouldn’t. I’m going. You come up to my place tomorrow. Five o’clock. What do I call you?”

“Paula.”

He was on his way to the door. “Will these—Martians sell me that whiskey?”

“It’s expensive. Don’t let them give you the Martian version, it’s wholly other.”

His big head bobbed once. “My name is Saba.” He sounded as if he were granting her a favor. The door opened for him, and he left.

The small hinged window in the shower was unlocked. He was burly, a tight fit through the window. She turned off the light, locked the bathroom door, and went back to the sitting room to call Jefferson.

The old woman’s face was grooved with irritation. “How long have you been there?”

“I’m sorry, Jefferson, I’ve been busy.” She swung out the stool and sat down in front of the camera. “I’ve met him.”

“You have. What’s he like?”

“Remember that list of ships? Saba is his name. He’s very defensive. I think he’s scared. He seems to have made up his mind that the best protection is to attack first. Cam Savenia is here, by the side.”

“Dr. Savenia? The Senator?”

“She and the Akellar have fallen in love.” She told Sybil how he had broken into her suite.

Jefferson cackled with laughter. “Yes, that’s the trouble with law. What is she doing there?”

“Trying to wreck the meeting. If he talked to her the way he talked to me, I can see why she’s angry.” She scratched her chin. “He tried to bribe me.”

“He did. How much?”

“He never said.”

Jefferson’s mouth screwed up thoughtfully. “Do you get along with him?”

“Better than Cam. He read me the sermon on woman’s place, and the way he told me his name I should use it sparingly. He’s all right. He ate half a drawer of ice the first ten minutes he was here.”

There was a ripple of interference across the screen. Jefferson glanced away. Paula fiddled with the image focus.

“Is he intelligent?”

“He’s no genius. He speaks the language like a don.” Another wave rolled slowly over Sybil’s image. “You know someone is getting onto us.”

“I’m aware of that. I’ll deal with it. You have a scanner, don’t you? You’d better look around your suite.”

“I will.”

In the morning, when she tried to call Cam, the computer told her Savenia had checked out. Paula sent down for breakfast. She carried the electronic scanner all over the suite and uncovered two small listening devices. She put them in her suitcase to take back to the technicians in New York. The page who brought her breakfast hovered around her, pouring her tea, and setting out butter and jelly and kefir.

“If you expect a tip, Charley, you’re hanging around the wrong woman.” Her eggs were sprinkled with paprika. She reached for the fork.

“Dr. Savenia gave me a fifty to make things easier for you.” The page set out a dish of sausage. He stepped back, his hands behind him, smiling. He wore a little round cap at an angle on his fair hair.