Exile by Al Sarrantonio Read Free Book Online

ancient play Romeo and Juliet. I can—"
    "Never mind, valet."
    "I presume you are in love, sir?"
    Dalin almost laughed at the placid preciseness with which the valet's words were delivered.
    "Oh, yes, valet: I am in love."
    "Congratulations, sir."
    This time a laugh broke from Dalin's lips, and Dalin's morose spell was broken.
    He looked down at the slice of bacon he was eating and at the rest of his breakfast, and realized he had an appetite after all.
    "All right, valet," he said, "that's enough of love for now. You may fetch my clothes."
    The valet bowed. "Very well, sir."
    Tabrel Kris was sick of starlight.
    She used to think, when she was a girl, that starlight was for lovers. But now she was not so sure. With little else to do during the trip and little space to do it in the Titanian freighter that had picked up her life raft, she had spent most of her days wedged between pallets of goods in the cargo hold, staring out the single porthole. The crew—two androids and a lecherous old salt who had spent as much of the first few days regaling Tabrel with stories of his life on cargo ships as he did eyeing her bosom—had proven inadequate company, and she had at first found solace alone with only perpetual night as her companion.
    But that companionship had proven as inadequate as that of the crew, and, when she wasn't worrying about her father, she found herself thinking more and more of that first startling kiss with King Dalin Shar of Earth.
    She had never felt anything like it before —and knew in her heart that she would never feel anything-quite like it again. It had been like putting a hand into a wave generator a shock one was not likely to forget.
    And she was sure he had felt it, too.
    She wondered what Dalin Shar was doing now. Her first impressions of him—too young, callow, insulated, and inexperienced—had proven in many ways to be correct. She had known, going into that garden with him, that he would try to kiss her; she imagined he had done 'such a thing many times before. She had entered into an agreement with herself that she would let him play out his game, since at the very least it would be a diplomatic thing to do—but when the kiss finally came, she knew it had been like a bolt of lightning to both of them.
    Is this how true love comes?
    Once again, staring idly at the wash of passing stars outside her window, she wondered what he was doing now, if he was thinking of her.
    Such foolishness, but so much time to do nothing else, unless she wanted to worry about her father. There came a bang and creaking sound which
    announced the opening of the cargo bay's old hatch. "Missy, you in there?"
    Where else would I be, you old lecher? she thought—but out of inbred politeness she said, "Yes, Captain, I'm here."
    "At your old porthole, eh?" Captain Weens cackled, making his appearance between two lashed pallets of tall crates. He put his hands on his hips, and once more his one good eye strayed down to her bust.
    Tabrel crossed her arms over her chest to thwart his stare.
    "You require something, Captain?"
    "Just company, deary," Weens said. "I gets tired o' scrapping with them two metal heaps up front. They don't want to hear 'bout nothing save the truth." He cackled again, leaning closer to Tabrel. "Did I tell ye about when I was a younger man, on
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    the crew o' the Abilene, when the whole aft section o' the ship got blowed away by a meteorite?" Weens shook his head. "Oh, that was a sight—."
    As politely as she could, Tabrel interjected, "Yes, Captain, you told me."
    Weens stood up straight. "Oh. Then did I tell you 'bout losing me eye?" He flipped up his black patch to reveal, for the tenth time, the charred crater of his socket. "Took a raser shot right in the looker, I did. Would o' burned me brain out if my retina hadn't deflected it portside." He pointed to a scarred round section on the same side of his temple. "Shot came out right there, it did.