Peter Hamilton - Pandora's Star

Looking around at the beautiful people as they chatted in groups on the lawn, she still felt she was living in someone else’s TSI biogdrama. She knew how to move with them, how to laugh at their inane jokes. When to smile knowingly as they gossiped. The names of wines and food, how to pronounce them correctly. Art was still difficult for her, the Grand Families and Intersolar Dynasties seemed to have an encyclopedic history of art available at a genetic level; but her e-butler kept the files on quick recall.

“Ah, there’s Campbell Sheldon,” Alessandra said. Her hand waved discreetly toward one of the marquees. “See him?”

Mellanie turned slowly, scanning the group standing around the marquee, framed by one of the giant flower arrangements. Her virtual vision displayed the file picture of Sheldon, and she matched it with the real man. “Got him.”

“Campbell is your fuck tonight. He was their family’s chief negotiator when the navy was put together; so he’ll have access to the stats. How are the construction schedules holding up, what’s the true budget overspend. You know what we need.”

Mellanie said nothing.

Alessandra gave her a disapproving look. “You’re not going soft on me, are you? There are about a billion other girls who would like to take your place.”

“I know. But he’s a Sheldon, he’s not going to give me figures on stuff like that. He’s not dumb.”

“Of course not. He knows who you are and why you’re sucking his dick. That’s the point, he won’t give you figures, but he’ll show us the direction to take. They’re all at war with each other, young Mellanie; all struggling for dominance, and information is their weapon. If one of his rivals is screwing up, you’ll be told.”

Mellanie gave the group a second look. It was half past six, she’d had too many cocktails and too many vacuous conversations where every sentence began and ended with “darling.” There were lights on inside the marquees, and paths across the lawns were glowing blue as if they were phosphorescent streams. “Why do they have marquees? This place must have force fields. They’ll turn them on if it starts raining.”

“I’m sure they will,” Alessandra said in an annoyed tone.

“So if we’re not going to get wet, why put up marquees?”

“Go ask Campbell. The Sheldons are all technology bores, I’m sure he’ll love explaining it all to you.”

“Do you like anybody?”

“I like you.” Alessandra leaned forward and gave her a firm kiss. Mellanie was slow to respond.

“Don’t be such a bitch,” Alessandra complained.

Mellanie glared at her through the alcohol buzz; then she blinked, peering across the darkling grounds. “That’s Myo.”

“Paula Myo?” Alessandra couldn’t keep the twang of interest out of her voice.

“Yes.”

“Curious.” She kept facing Mellanie. “Who’s she with?”

“A nobody. Security man.” Mellanie was quite pleased she could tell.

“So she’s dealing with the Burnellis.”

“Let me have it.”

“You’ve got to stop obsessing on the woman.”

“It’s a good story, and you know it. I’ll fuck whoever you want, but give it to me.”

“That’s my Mellanie. All right, I can spare you for a couple of days. If you can find out what she’s doing for the Burnellis I’ll be impressed. But if not, I want you back on Elan in forty-eight hours.”

“Thank you.” Mellanie kissed her, properly this time.

“All right,” Alessandra said eventually, chortling happily. “Campbell! Remember? Now go.”

Mellanie dropped her cocktail glass into the rosebushes, shook her tousled hair back, pushed her tits out, and started walking toward her target.

The engagement party was going well after all. Justine surveyed the guests as they drifted in for the evening buffet. A twenty-piece band had set up in front of the big fountain pool to play merry 1950s tunes. She could hear a lot of laughter amid the drone of conversation. Thick flower scents drifted on the fresh night air. Overhead, the constellations burned brightly. Down toward the beech wood, the Tolthorpe troupe was running through their final rehearsal with the stage techs.

Her mood had lifted considerably since her father and the Myo woman had left. She supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised at her father accepting conspiracy theories in his desperation to catch the murderer. It was just that he was always the ruthlessly logical one. Thompson’s murder must have shaken him up a lot more than he was admitting to.

In the morning, she would take the time and talk to him properly about the whole situation. In the meantime, however, there was still time to have a lot of fun. And there were several men on the guest list she’d be happy to spend the night with. When she started searching around she saw Campbell Sheldon. He had a blissful smile on his face as he chattered away to Mellanie Rescorai. The girl had obviously decided he was going to take her to bed. Justine rolled her eyes at the folly of the male psyche. Ah well, he was a big boy, he’d probably survive the experience.

Ramon DB was over by the marquee, giving the food a long guilty look. She smiled warmly. He’d been a tower of strength for her at Senate Hall, helping her through long difficult days. He was due for rejuvenation in another year. She’d miss him in the meantime; although when he was twenty he was so handsome.

She looked for Estella, who would be good uncomplicated company.

“You left this behind, ma’am.”

Justine turned to face the young waiter who was holding out a silver tray. There were no glasses on it, only a tatty, faded old sunhat.

“I don’t think I—” She stopped. Stared at the sunhat. Suddenly some strange force was squeezing her throat, making it difficult to breathe. That same force that was making incredulous tears sting her eyes as she looked up into the waiter’s face. “Oh. My. God. Kazimir! ” Her legs almost gave out, but she still managed to fling her arms around him. He was bigger. Older. With much broader shoulders. A dark handsome face with jet-black hair flopping down over his forehead. And he was as ecstatic as she.

“Every night I have dreamed of you, my angel,” he whispered into her ear as his hands stroked her hair. She clutched his back, almost tearing the waiter jacket fabric.

“Every night.” He was trembling now.

Justine tightened her grip on him.

“Every night I wanted you to be happy. I wanted you to love your beautiful life. Yet even wishing you all that, I wished I could see you for just one minute more.”

“Shush.” She slid a finger down over his lips, then kissed him. Tenderly at first, not believing this could be real. Then demanding, passionate, shaking in his embrace.

He pulled back, staring intently into her eyes. His smile of wonder was as bright as ever, brighter than her memory. “It is you,” she said exultantly. “Really you.”

“I had to come, my angel. Different worlds or different galaxies, I couldn’t be apart from you. I had to find a way. Forgive me.”

“Oh, Kazimir.” She knew she was going to cry and didn’t care. Her gorgeous, romantic, foolish lover had pursued her across the stars.

“Come with me,” she said softly, and pulled him imploringly, longingly toward the Tulip Mansion.

In the full dark of midnight, hologram projectors cloaked the open-air stage in broad strokes of primary color. Dry ice flooded spookily through the beech trees. Cleverly positioned force fields allowed Puck and the fairies to fly gracefully through the air. Soliloquies were declaimed with bravado and majesty, to be greeted with enthusiastic applause from the audience.

Justine neither heard nor saw any of the Tolthorpe troupe’s finest hour. In the darkness and peace of her bedroom, her own body was performing the most erotic, sensual acts she could physically achieve. She had forgotten what it was like to be adored so completely, so unselfishly. He was so much more responsive now, matching the pleasure she gave with ease, willing and eager to satisfy her. They could be gentle and slow with each other, moving in tender rhythm, or fierce, almost fighting to bring themselves to climax. It didn’t matter, both kinds of lovemaking were right for them. Time after time amid the silky shadows she watched his enraptured straining features soften into a smile of unbearable joy, only to lose herself in the same delirium. For once there were no chemicals or programs to help. This was real.