“We weren’t.” It was ridiculous, having to comfort this naïve boy when the real issues of the war were still unresolved; yet her conscience was stopping her from just walking out. God, he’s worse than Dudley. Actually, no, that’s not fair; Dudley was never this vulnerable. Or sweet.
“Oh.” He didn’t sound convinced.
“Believe me,” she said softly. “If it was anything else, if I liked him, would I do this?”
“What?”
She kissed him.
It was dark outside; Cressat’s sun had set nearly an hour earlier. Mellanie lay on the bed, listening to Orion’s regular breathing for several minutes before she knew for certain he was asleep. She got off the gelmattress as carefully as she could so she didn’t wake him. He was sprawled on his side, one hand hanging over the edge. She smiled as she pulled the thin duvet up around him. He sighed in his sleep, and settled contentedly under the fabric. Even when she gave him the lightest of kisses on his shoulder he never stirred.
I should hope not. He should be exhausted after everything I made him do. She felt a wicked sense of pride at how successfully he’d been corrupted during that long afternoon. I’m a bad bad girl. And loving every minute of it.
Mellanie didn’t bother trying to find her swimsuit and toweling robe; the kafuffle might wake him. She just walked naked down the mansion’s long corridors back to the Bermuda room. Her smile kept shining the whole time. She couldn’t get his face out of her mind, the expressions of surprise and fearful delight. His body had been nicely responsive. Some of his reactions made her laugh, then gasp. Bad!
In the Bermuda room she placed her hand on the desktop array, her i-spot interfacing securely with the mansion’s network. The SIsubroutine was established in the arrays, waiting for her.
“We have infiltrated the network,” it told her. “Ozzie will be able to leave the building undetected. He will wait for you by the first cattle grid on the drive.”
“Right then, I’ll call a cab from Illanum. Give me fifteen minutes.”
The maidbots packed her bags while she took a quick shower. Before she left, she wrote a short note and sealed it in an envelope.
One of the security staff was standing in the hall as she came downstairs, a woman she remembered from the morning. Jansis? The cab from the Dynasty office had just pulled up outside.
“Would you give this to Orion in the morning, please?” Mellanie asked, and held out the envelope.
“You’re leaving now?” The woman seemed faintly surprised.
“I’ve done what I was paid to.” Mellanie couldn’t detect any suspicion. She proffered the envelope again.
“Okay.” The woman took the envelope.
Mellanie went down the broad steps, hoping she wasn’t showing too much haste. The cab was the same kind of maroon-colored Mercedes limousine that had brought her to the mansion. Her luggage rolled up into the open boot as she claimed one of the front seats. She didn’t like driving manually, so she told her e-butler to designate a route to Illanum station. “And slow down to a crawl when we reach the first cattle grid,” she instructed it.
The car followed the winding drive for a kilometer through the parklands surrounding the mansion before it slowed. Mellanie opened the door, and Ozzie bounded in.
“Cool,” he said admiringly as he settled next to her. “We did it.”
The Mercedes began to pick up speed. Ozzie ordered it to switch to manual control, and a steering wheel slid out in front of him. He gripped it with both hands. An enhanced light image appeared on the windshield, showing the trees of the parkland as silver-white ghosts.
“How’s Orion?” Ozzie asked.
Mellanie smiled broadly. It was an automatic response, she couldn’t help it. Didn’t particularly want to. “He’s just fine.”
Something in her tone made Ozzie shoot a quizzical look her way. “What does he think about me?”
“That you’re the antichrist.”
“Thanks.”
She watched the monochrome landscape sliding by. “I hope you know where the Sheldon Dynasty has its starship base, because I certainly don’t.”
“I’ve been thinking about that. The gateway to Cressat was expanded, and there was a lot of traffic going through. So at least part of the operation will be here.”
“Where? It’s a whole planet, and this is the only transport we’ve got.”
“Relax. One of the reasons Nigel was so keen to keep me penned up is because I’m so deeply embedded in CST. I told you, it’s half mine.”
“You also said he handles the day-to-day running.”
“True. I can ghost through most Dynasty security barriers, but I’m guessing this one will give me a problem. I know Nigel. A project on this scale, and designed to save his own ass, is going to kick his corporate paranoia into over-drive. Every security protocol surrounding it is going to be shiny new, and completely lacking my authorization privileges. There’s only one place he’ll build anything this secret. I just hope he hasn’t gone and switched the original personnel around too much.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
For once there was no crowd waiting to greet Elaine Doi as the presidential limousine pulled up smoothly. The bodyguards riding with her still went through the disembarkation procedure, scanning the area, running identity requests on the few people who were standing outside the gateway control center. It was a nondescript building made from a high-density metal stone amalgamation with slim recessed vertical windows, the kind of office block that would be rented by a small company going nowhere. In this case it was very literally in the shade of the Hanko wormhole generator building, whose composite panel sides rose up behind the gateway control like a vertical mountain.
Presidential security gave the okay, and the limousine’s thick armored doors unlocked. The pressure seal that protected her from chemical and biological attack disengaged, and the force field switched off.
“I see Nigel hasn’t bothered to come and welcome me,” the President complained. How the unisphere shows would love that slight. He’d sent some station management types to wait on the steps for her instead.
“Remember the Michelangelo feed is live,” Patricia warned as the door irised apart.
As she stepped out of the limousine Doi’s smile had the appropriate gravitas for the occasion. She thanked the two CSI managers for sparing the time to greet her at what must be a frantically busy time for them on this historic day. Nodded courteously at the reporter from the Michelangelo show standing to one side, and let herself be ushered inside.
The control center itself had undergone a hurried modification over the last few days, with over a dozen new consoles crammed into the narrow aisles between the existing two rows. Whereas before, under normal operating conditions, there would be no more than three or four people in the center at any one time, each position now had a technician sitting at it, while more specialists and engineers stood behind them monitoring the new procedures. In addition, the back wall was lined with dignitaries, including Michelangelo himself, who’d arm-twisted an invitation out of CST. With only half an hour to go before the wormhole was switched to its new advanced temporal flow mode, the atmosphere was strained and excited. None of the technical staff were bothering to use the communications links; they shouted questions and comments around the center at high volume.
“It’s worse than a Senate debate,” Doi said from the corner of her mouth as they entered the control center.
Patricia’s neutral expression never flickered.
Nigel Sheldon came over to greet her, apologetic that he hadn’t been at the front entrance earlier. “Things are getting a little tense around here,” he explained. “They even asked my advice on exotic matter stress. I was quite flattered.”