Crystal Dragon by Steve Miller, Sharon Lee Read Free Book Online Page B

an alliance with the Mazdiot Trade Clan, jointly purchasing a trade ship—a vessel larger than either might fund of itself. The crew and traders were to be drawn equally from each clan; Tor An, once he had his big-ship license in hand, was to represent the interests of Clan Alkia on the all-important first voyage.

    It was, so Fraea had written, a very great honor for him.

    Yes, well. His eyes strayed to the main screen. How he wanted to be home! To walk in the old garden, rub his hand over the rocky tumble, pluck a fruit from the piata's branches, and set the ceramic bell to chiming. He wanted, after all this time away, to do nothing more than return to his old rooms, and be still for a time—which was simply foolishness. He was a pilot and a licensed trader; a member of the premier trading family of the Ringstars. It was not for him to spend his life idle on the ground. Even those who served the clan as inventory specialists or 'counts managers spent more time between ships than ever upon the surface of the so-called homeworld. The homeworld was for those whose time of active service was done—and for those whose time was yet to come.

    Indeed, he knew very well that the rooms he had continued, throughout his time away, to think of as "his" were occupied by Grandfather Syl Vor, who was, as Fraea had also written, in the embrace of his final illness, and required the comfort of the open rooms and forgotten garden more than one who stood on the edge of beginning his life's toil.

    Upon his arrival at Alkia's planetary base, the clan's son Tor An would be assigned a cot in the transients dorm until it was time for him to ship out. Perhaps he would be able to visit the garden—and Grandfather Syl Vor, as well. Perhaps he would be able to do neither, but be dispatched immediately to the trade ship. It was for Fraea, as Alkia's Voice, to decide these matters. His was to obey.

    Obedience was a lifelong habit. On the bridge of old Light Wing , he breathed easier for remembering that there was order and progression in his life; and all that was required of him, really, was obedience.

    Calmed, if not comforted, he pushed out of the pilot's chair and moved toward the galley. There was time for a meal, a shower, and a nap before transition's end.
    * * *

    THE MIST FADED, teased apart by a small breeze bearing the odors of fuel, dust, and hull metal.

    Around them, insubstantial in the melting mist, star-faring ships sat at rest upon cermacrete ready-pads. They themselves stood upon an empty pad, which was folly of a sort; the gentleman holding the lady's hand high, his lips pressed soft against her fingers.

    Which was folly of another sort.

    The lady extended her free hand and cupped the gentleman's smooth golden cheek, stretching high on her toes to do so. She sank back, and the gentleman released her hand with a gentle smile.

    "The skies are clear," the lady said, tucking both hands into the full sleeves of her gown.

    "A passing circumstance, I assure you," the gentleman answered, making a show of looking upwards, hand shading his eyes.

    "Rool." The lady sighed.

    He brought his gaze down to her face, one copper brow arched ironically.

    "It is not," she said sternly, "a joke."

    "Indeed it is not," he replied, and there was no irony in his voice. "We shall be discovered soon enough, fear it not. Our challenge is to appear genuine in our flight, while neither losing our pursuit nor altering aught that might also alter what has been set in motion." He smiled. "The choice is made; we cannot prevail. I swear it."

    The lady's pale lips softened briefly as she looked up into his face.

    "The modifications will stand the test," she said seriously. "Are you able? Are you— willing ? It might yet be undone."

    "No!" His voice was sharp, the smile fled. He gripped her shoulders and stared down into her eyes. "It is only the certainty that the modifications will stand that gives me hope of the final outcome." His lips quirked, and