Investments by Walter Jon Williams Read Free Book Online

light from the display shone up on his face, on the short muzzle and deep red eyes.
    Behind Pa the yellow chesz wood panels, inset with red enjo in abstract designs, glowed in the recessed lights of the lounge. A heavy crystal goblet sat near one hand, filled with Lai-own protein broth.
    Comforts, Martinez thought. Guaranteed profit. Right.
    “Perhaps we should break for now,” Shon-dan said. He had noticed Martinez leaving the virtual display.
    “Thank you,” Terza said. “That was breathtaking. I hope we can do it again.”
    “I’d be delighted,” Shon-dan said, rising. She was a Lai-own, with golden eyes, and wore a formal academic uniform of dark brown with several medals of scholastic distinction. She was young for all her honors, and the feathery side-hairs on her head were still a youthful brown.
    “We have another twenty-three days to Chee,” she said, “and the stars will be there the entire time.”
    “Perhaps tomorrow,” Martinez said.
    He rose from his couch and walked to the bar, where he poured himself a brandy. He idled toward Lord Pa, who was still bent over his game. Martinez scanned the board, spotted at once the move that Lord Pa should make, and began to point it out before he decided not to.
    On the twentieth day of the voyage, Kayenta’s passengers were beginning to get on each other’s nerves a little.
    The first part of the trip had been as pleasant and social as possible, given that Martinez suspected one of the party of stealing from his family. Marcella, Lord Pa, Martinez, Terza, and Shon-dan had dined together each day. Tingo and other games had been suggested, but interest in gambling waned after it became clear that Terza and Martinez weren’t attracted to high play, and that Shon-dan’s academic salary didn’t allow her to play even for what passed for small change amid Peers.
    The conversation during and after meals had ranged far and wide, though Terza had cautioned Martinez about raising the kind of questions he burned to ask, detailed questions about the financial arrangements between the Cree and Meridian companies. “It will sound like an interrogation,” she said.
    Martinez confined himself to a few mild queries per day, beginning with broad questions about the progress of the Chee settlements, then going into more detail as the conversation developed. Marcella and Pa seemed pleased enough to talk about their work, and Martinez found himself genuinely interested in the technical details; though Martinez made a point of breaking off when he saw a slight frown on Terza’s face, or felt the soft touch of her hand on his thigh.
    Shon-dan talked about astronomical subjects. Martinez told his war stories. Terza avoided the subject of her work at the Ministry, but spoke of High City society, and brought out her harp and played a number of sonatas.
    But now, by the twentieth day, the conversations had grown a little listless. Marcella spent much time in her cabin, working on Cree Company business, smoking endless cigarettes, and playing spiky, nerve-jabbing music that rattled her cabin door in its frame. Lord Pa received and sent detailed memoranda to his crews on Cree, and otherwise spent a lot of time puzzling over his game board.
    Martinez sent frequent videos to his son— the three months aboard Wi-hun with a small and lively child had been challenging enough for all concerned, so Young Gareth had been left on Laredo with his nursemaid and his doting grandparents. The videos that Martinez received in return were full of excitement, for Lord Martinez had introduced his grandson to his collection of vintage automobiles, and had been roaring around on his private track with Young Gareth as a passenger.
    “Gareth’s favorite is the Lodi Turbine Express,” Martinez told Terza. “At his age I liked that one myself, though I liked the Scarlet Messenger better.” And then, at her look, said, “My father hasn’t had an accident yet, you know.”
    “I’ll try to be