Ben Bova - The Sam Gunn Omnibus

“I am so very glad you asked for this interview,” Satay said. “It is always a pleasure to be interviewed by the news media, yes indeed. I am afraid that I am something of an egotist. It must very likely be an essential part of a concert pianist’s personality.”

Fumbling for an idea, Jade stammered, “It… it’s not often that we … the people of Selene, that is … we don’t get many distinguished musicians visiting us.”

He seemed to smile. With the beard and luxuriant mustache, it was difficult to tell.

“Oh my goodness, not at all. On the contrary, Ms. Inconnu, Selene has a very illustrious symphony orchestra. Indeed, many of the finest musicians on Earth have come here to retire and then extended their careers in the low gravity and relaxed social atmosphere of your delightful community. I feel honored to be allowed to perform with them, certainly I do.”

As they chatted on, Jade became more and more convinced that this elegant man actually was who he claimed to be, and not Sam Gunn in disguise. After nearly an hour of talking, he got up and went to the piano, stripped off the silk gloves, and began to play the languid opening bars of Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata” for Jade.

“Rather appropriate, considering where we are,” he said over the music, “don’t you believe so?”

Jade had to agree. It wasn’t until Satay had completed the piece with its stirring final movement that she realized she was no closer to finding Sam than she had been before meeting the pianist.

As the last notes faded away, Jade sat on the sofa, too awed by the music to applaud.

“That’s … beautiful,” she breathed, knowing that her words were terribly lame.

“Thank you so very much,” Satay replied, without moving from the piano bench. He eyed her for a silent moment, then asked, “Are you not the woman who narrated those illuminating biographical shows about Sam Gunn?”

“Yes,” Jade said. “I am.”

“They were magnificent, truly,” said Satay. “You captured such a complex personality so well, so faithfully. A magnificent achievement.”

It was Jade’s turn to say, “Thank you.”

“You must know him very well, very well indeed.”

“Actually, I’ve never met him.”

“Never met him?” Satay’s bushy brows rose almost to the edge of his turban.

“No. Never.”

“Would you like to?”

Jade felt her pulse quicken. “Yes! Of course!”

“He’s coming here this evening,” Satay said. Then, his face darkening, he added, “He has been courting my daughter.”

“Sam?” “Sam”

Jade turned and saw that Indra was not in the room. She had left her father alone with her.

Slowly, she asked, “When you say ‘courting,’ do you mean that Sam has proposed marriage to your daughter?”

His face darkening even more, Satay replied, “Not a word about marriage, not one syllable.”

Jade nodded.

“The man is notorious,” Satay growled.

“Yes, he is.”

“My daughter seems infatuated with him.”

“Sam can be very… infatuating.”

His bearded face broke into a fierce smile. “I have it! Why don’t you join us for dinner? We will make a foursome of the evening.”

Her heart thundering, Jade said, “I’d love to.”

Jade scooted to her meager apartment and changed into her best evening wear: a simple sleeveless black frock adorned with a pearl necklace and earrings. Trying to calm the excited pounding of her pulse, she made her way back to the hotel and Satay’s suite.

The pianist was wearing a splendid gold brocade jacket that made Jade feel shabby. Indra was dressed in a silk sari of deep rose interwoven with glittering silver threads.

Sam was not there.

“He is late,” Satay murmured as his daughter poured iced tea for them.

“He’ll be here,” said Indra as she handed Jade a tall frosted glass. “He must be very careful, you know.”

“Careful?” Jade asked.

Indra nodded. “Unscrupulous people are searching for him. They want to—”

The doorbell chimed. Indra fairly flew to the front door, her sari flapping. Jade saw that her father looked grim.

Indra opened the door and in he stepped. Sam Gunn.

He’s an elf! she thought. Jade saw that Sam barely stood as tall as Satay’s shoulder. Even Indra was a few centimeters taller than he. He was smiling widely at her, a gap-toothed grin that looked slightly lopsided. His face was round and freckled, his nose a button. His brick-red hair was neatly combed, except for a couple of cowlicks sprouting from the back of his head.

My hair’s a little lighter in color than Sam’s, Jade thought. And my face is very different. But we’re almost exactly the same height.

Sam kissed Indra’s hand as he entered the spacious room; she smiled beamingly at him. He clasped his hands in front of his face and bowed politely to Satay, who bowed back, stone-faced.

Then Sam turned and seemed to realize for the first time that there was one other person in the room.

He looked at Jade, blinked, then said, “Hey, I know you.”

Jade said nothing. She couldn’t. Her throat was so constricted that not a word could come out.

Walking toward her across the thickly luxuriant carpeting, Sam said, “You’re the kid who hosted those bioshows about me. Jane something, isn’t it?”

“Mr. Gunn,” Satay intervened, “may I present Ms. Jane Avril Inconnu.”

“She not only narrated your shows, Sam,” lndra added, “she produced them.”

Sam stepped up to Jade. We’re exactly the same height, she told herself.

With a grin, Sam said, “You’re a natural redhead, like me. Not many of us around.”

“You have to have the right genes,” Jade heard herself say.

Satay announced, “I have dinner laid on here. I know how much you want to avoid being seen in public.”

It seemed to take an effort for Sam to take his eyes away from Jade. “Yeah, right,” he said absently. “Too many prying eyes out there.”

Indra hooked her arm around Sam’s and guided him toward the dining room. Following them, Jade took Satay’s proffered arm.

“Why are you afraid of prying eyes?” Jade asked as they took their seats around the square glass-topped dining table. A pair of squat, silvery robots stood along one wall, glasses and pitchers on their flat tops.

“Yes,” said Indra. “You told me that all those lawsuits against you have been dropped.” She was seated across the table from Jade, and the two men faced each other.

“I’m involved in a pretty delicate business,” Sam said as one of the robots rolled up beside him. He took a water glass, then asked Indra what she wanted.

“A martini, please,” Indra replied. Satay asked for a double.

“And you?” he asked Jade.

“Is there any wine?”

The robot’s synthesized voice replied, “There is an excellent Sancerre in my cooler, ma’am.”

Sam opened the insulated door in the robot’s chest and pulled out a green-tinted bottle. “From France,” he murmured appreciatively.

Once they had all sipped at their drinks, Jade asked again, “Why all the secrecy, Mr. Gunn?”

“Call me Sam.”

“Why all the secrecy, Sam?”

He laughed; Jade thought it was a trifle forced. “You’re a newshound, all right. A regular bloodhound.”

“Well?” Jade insisted.

Sam glanced at Satay, then said, “I’m involved in negotiations to buy the Selene Philharmonic Orchestra.”

“Buy the orchestra?” Jade asked, surprised. “But you can’t! It’s owned by the people of Selene.”

“Not really,” Sam said.

“That is what I thought, also,” Satay interjected. “I was led to believe that the Philharmonic is a municipal organization, not privately owned.”