She gave him a first amazed stare, then a gasp of pleased recognition. “Why—Behrooz. What a nice surprise.”
“I have to talk to you.”
“But I’m about to eat.” She gestured to the tray in front of her. “You’ll have to wait until I’ve finished. Unless—” Her face turned pink, but her eyes were gleaming before they looked away from his. “Unless you were thinking of staying here while I do it.”
“Sure. Here, we’ll share this.” Bey placed the wine on the table between them and heard her gasp. He might be getting into more than he realized.
Andromeda was looking around, checking that no one else had seen Bey enter the cubicle. “Wait a minute.” Her voice was breathless, and she quickly set the table controls to make all the walls opaque. “There—if you are sure you really want to?”
“I do. I’m sure.” Bey picked up the flagon and poured wine. He did not think Andromeda was a woman who did favors for nothing. Who was it who had said that Paris was worth a mass? One of the Henrys. Well, Sylvia was worth more than that. According to his estimates, she had saved his life at least twice. And she had sat for days by the tank when he had gone into form-change to make sure nothing bad happened there. Sylvia was worth it, whatever it took. Bey followed his instincts, picked up his cup of wine, and drained it.
Andromeda had taken a spoonful of a clear soup, but she was hesitating with it poised in front of her mouth, watching him drink. Bey stared right at her, not letting her off the hook. After a moment she gave a little shiver, pursed her lips, and sipped in a determined way. She swallowed, blushed, and said, “I hope you don’t think I’m like this all the time. I mean, I’m really a very respectable woman.”
“I know. Sylvia says you’re the tops.” Bey gulped more wine and watched Andromeda lean forward and lick her hps. Her nipples were pushing against the indigo fabric of her dress. He was even getting excited himself. Maybe the Cloudlanders knew something that Earth people had never learned about the serious business of eating. Bey struggled to keep his mind on the job at hand. “She says the two of you go away back together. You were big buddies until she set up with Paul Chu.”
“We were.” Andromeda swallowed another lascivious spoonful of soup. “I was very disappointed when that happened. I mean, he was nothing. Little, and fat, and full of strange ideas.”
Lady, that was me two weeks ago. Bey leaned across, poured a full glass for Andromeda, drank deeply from his own glass, and nodded agreeably. He had not eaten for a long time, and the alcohol was pumping straight through to his bloodstream. Andromeda was beginning to look much more attractive. “I don’t know why she started to hang out with him.” He leaned forward. “Wasn’t he part of some sort of religious group?”
“Not religion. Revolution.” She gave Bey another knowing look, waited to be sure he was watching, and took a deliberate swallow of wine. Her face was flushed, and her lower lip swollen. “He was into revolution, and borderland politics, and all that rubbish. I don’t know how much she told you about the two of them, but they were an item for a long time. I think she still has the hots for him. I don’t know what she told you, but in my opinion she hasn’t got him out of her system.”
“Was she asking about him?” The question was overly direct, but Andromeda was too preoccupied to notice. She was sitting with a forkful of food poised in front of her. Not until Bey fixed his eyes on her again did she slowly place it in her mouth, pull the food free with her white teeth, and chew steadily while he watched. The pulse in the hollow of her throat was throbbing.
“She was asking.” Andromeda finally swallowed and put down her fork. “She was asking about him, and I told her how I thought she could get in touch with him.”
“You know that?”
“I’m fairly sure I do. He was here secretly, but he wanted certain people to be able to reach him. I know who they are.”
“And you could tell me?”
“Well, not immediately.” Andromeda licked her lips again. “It would take time to find them. But we could look together.”
Bey knew what was coming. “ ‘There’s a divinity that shapes our ends, Andromeda, rough-hew them how we will.’ ”
“I’m sorry?”
“Shapes our ends.” Lord. He had had far too much to drink—but too much for what?
Andromeda laughed. “You’re such a strange person—not at all the way you look. If you want to search, I can tell you where we should start.” She moved closer to Bey. Andromeda had lost all interest in eating. “I have their names and locations—but not with me. Back in my private quarters. We’d have to go there. If you want to.”
She paused and looked at him inquiringly.
With a wild surmise. Silent, upon a peak in Darien. Lord, he was drunk.
“Well, Bey.” She had stopped smiling. “Do you want to?”
“ ‘Being your slave, what should I do but tend upon the hours and times of your desire?’ ”
“What?”
“I mean, let’s go. Now. To your place. I want to.”
“Mm. Are you sure?” She was playing hard to get. “I mean, what about Sylvia?”
“ ‘I have been faithful to thee Cynara, in my fashion.’ ” I mean Sylvia. I mean Mary, for God’s sake.
“What?”
“I mean, I’m quite sure. Can’t wait. Let’s go.” Bey lurched to his feet, clutching the half-full flagon of wine. She was out there somewhere, in the featureless gulf of the Outer System. He was going to find her. If he had to lay his body down to do it, that was part of the game. Whatever it took, he was going to find her. But not quite yet.
Leo Manx stared at him in disbelief. “Let me get this straight. You’re leaving tomorrow for these coordinates.” He tapped the sheet he was holding. “In the wilderness. And you don’t want me to come with you. I’ll second that. You don’t want to tell the harvester controllers where you’re going. All right, if you say so. But what are you hoping to accomplish?”
Leo Manx was a good listener. Bey outlined his ideas. At the wilder moments, Leo muttered to himself but did not interrupt. “How are you proposing to prove all this?” he asked at last.
“I’m going to bring one back. A live one.” Bey was white-faced, exhausted, and somewhere between stoned and hung over. Four days of wine, drugs, and Andromeda Diconis was not an experience for the fainthearted. They had wandered the harvester together from one end to the other. Andromeda believed in stimulation rather than sleep. If he survived, Bey wanted to see her again. He had to know where she got her energy. “But if I don’t make it back,” he went on, “there has to be at least one person who knows exactly where I’m heading and what I think is going on. That’s you.”
“But how am I ever going to persuade Cinnabar Baker that what you’re doing makes sense?”
“You don’t start with Cinnabar. You end with her, and only if I don’t come back and there’s absolutely no other alternative. I told you the danger. Did you do what I asked you to?”
“As much as I could. Have you ever tried to brief your boss without telling her what’s going on?”
“A hundred times. It’s the first rule of self-preservation. Do you have them in a safe place?”