TriPoint, a Union Alliance novel by Caroline J. Cherryh

“Why?” he asked.

But the car came, and they got in, with two other riders aboard. Saby smiled. He smiled. Acted easy. The other passengers did, clearly romantically inclined, hand in hand. Everybody smiled at everybody. Saby hung on to his arm and his nerves were strung tight as wire, the whole short distance out to Blue 9/20, where they got off and the other spacers stayed.

“What’s the deal?” he asked, then, in the brief privacy they had as they walked.

“The offer?”

“The sleepover. The fancy food. You.”

“I told you. I don’t come with the room.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. I don’t, either. But why?”

“Because you’re not a fool. Because Christian’s got it coming, and Austin’s pissed. That’s enough.”

“I don’t see it.”

“Do you dance?”

“Do I dance?”

“I know this restaurant. They’ve got a view, this huge real view of the stars from the dance floor. I can teach you.”

He’d never. He’d never imagined. He’d never, in his life. Saby was a tumbling infall of propositions and changes of vector he’d never, ever, expected to deal with.

Dance?

Stationers danced. Spacers… did, but not on Sprite, they didn’t. He couldn’t imagine.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I guess. “ He was thinking more about the food. He’d lately been hungry. He’d no assurance he might not be again.

And they walked the dockside, to a frontage with the very small, gold-and-silver sign that said Aldebaran.

Any spacer would say, high-class, expensive, and ask, being prudent, Who’s really financing this?

Saby? Austin? Or somebody else? Like another ship… with proprietary ideas.

Saby input an access code and showed him through the doors into a very beige, very pricey-looking reception area. Amenities were listed on the walls, with code numbers. Display cases lined the room. He saw, at one pass of the eye, directions to a gym, to a barber/stylist shop… to a jewelry store, restaurants, one breakfast, brunch, lunch, one dinner. He drew in a breath, shook his head, reckoning himself far out of his credit budget—you could feel the money in your pocket ebb just in looking at the case-displays.

“Anything you need urgently,” Saby said. “Personals? They have those in the bath, in every room. That’s all right.”

“I’ve got a hundred eighty seven cee,” he said. “Actually it’s Christian’s.”

“Oh, good,” Saby said cheerfully. “Buy whatever you like. I’ve a phone call to make.”

“To the captain? Or to him?”

“The captain,—naturally. Be good. We’ll eat here, tonight. Are you hungry?”

“Hungry. Sleepy. Tired. Mostly tired.”

“Dancing when you’re rested,” Saby said, and went to the desk, to make her phone call… after which there might be God knew what. He hoped just for a chance to sit down. But he’d gotten to the slightly crazed, half-giddy stage of sleep deprivation, and he wandered around the room and looked at the displays, that was all, mentally blank. He was aware of Saby on the phone, at the desk. He was aware as she crossed the room toward him.

Entirely cheerful. “Captain says fine, it’s all right, anything you need—in reason. Have you found anything you have to have?”

“Just a bed, just sleep. “ That was the honest answer. It was all he could think of now, now a room and a bed were that close. So Saby coded them through further doors. It was down the corridor to number 17, and inside, to a private room with two beds.

He went straightway and fell face-down on one, not eager for conversation, his legs tired from walking and standing, his eyes stinging from sleeplessness. He said to himself that if Saby wanted to call the cops or Corinthian or anybody, he didn’t care, so long as he could get a little rest that wasn’t hiding out in a restroom or sitting on a waiting-area bench.

A blanket settled over him. If Saby was the source of the blanket, he was grateful—the room was chill, and he hadn’t the self-awareness left to figure out what to do about it.

Pleasant, he thought about Saby. Nice. Tink said she was all right.

But clearly reporting to his father. That wasn’t a recommendation.

But it was opposite sides of the room, Saby didn’t bother him, the blanket made him comfortable as he was, and the lights went out. He hadn’t even the interest to open his eyes as he heard Saby settle into the other bed. Stark naked or in the sexiest gown he could imagine… couldn’t muster a shred of interest. Face-down and going, gone.

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162

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