Mary Rosenblum (18 page)

“Ice.” The shuttle tilted and stars swung across Ahni’s field of vision, so that she had to swallow hard.

Damn her stomach anyway. “Look.” He gestured with his chin.

At first she couldn’t figure out what he was pointing out. Then she saw it, the matte black of a ship shape trailing a lacy veil that glittered as it caught the light.

“Solar flare due tomorrow … X class,” he said. “That’ll help keep your genes good for the next generation.”

”What is it?” She squinted, spied one … no, two more of the dark ships trailing lace.

“Ice crystals. Melt the ice, spray it out. Makes a curtain to shield the platform. For awhile.” His grin tinged his words. “Steady job, ice.”

Up ahead, another vast shape obscured the stars, began to eclipse the sun. Dragon Home.

Indistinguishable from NYUp, it rotated slowly, majestically, just fast enough to give skinside residents a good percentage of Earthnormal gravity without creating a problem for the fragile primate inner ear. Small craft zipped around it, glittering in the sun, vanishing into the darkness of its shadow. Silver balloons garlanded it. ”What are those round things?” Ahni asked.

“Storage bladders. You fill ‘em with ice or refined metal, drop em down the gravity well to your catcher out of Darkside. You stay up there and keep mining.”

She felt an echo of that
alone
in his voice.

“Saved my credit, wanted to bring my sister up here, and her daughter. She’s a professor and my niece could be one. There are no jobs down there and we could use her up here.” An edge of bitterness threaded his mild words. “Can’t do it. All those years I saved, they don’t matter.”

“Why not?”

“Too many people. Dragon Home won’t take new resident families. Neither will Euro Two and NYUp.

We’ve hit the limit unnless we expand.”

”Why not expand?” Anhi flinched as they dove beneath the garrlanded balloons. They were big …

everything was bigger than it seemed. Perspective didn’t seem to function up here. “Why not just build a new platform if so many people want to live up here?”

“Money. Numbers.” The Courier shrugged. “We’re saturated with downside corporations. They don’t need more space up here. We can’t afford to lift downside material for expansion. Not for residential space. You need to drop big rocks down here if you want to have enough resources to build big.

Darkside doesn’t want us mining the lunar and they’re backed by the military. Earth’s not gonna let us drop rocks down. Just the refined stuff. We can’t refine enough out there to expand.”

Another piece to this puzzle, but she had no picture yet. Ahni stifled a gasp as they closed on Dragon Home. It loomed and her brain wanted that to be
up
, screamed at her that it was going to toppple over on them, crush them. She closed her eyes, did Pause to still the chemical panic, breathed deeply. Opened her eyes just in time to see a lighted opening in front of them.

The shuttle dove into it, walls sliding past, making her realize just how fast they had to have been moving out there. The Courier halted in a narrow bay nearly identical to the one she had just left, only here, the miscellaneous labels, warnings, and instructions were in Chinese. The Courier touched his invisible controls and after perrhaps a minute, the winged hatch folded back and he leaped out, turning to offer her a hand.

She scrambled out, straightened her dress and ran a hand over her short crop. Stepped toward the door at the end of the little dock at the Courier’s gesture. It irised open as she approached.

The man standing on the other side was thirty-three, she knew. but Li Zhen looked no older than Xai.

Slender with high cheekkbones and a long, lanky northern build, only son of China’s current Chairman, he smiled at her, bowed slightly as she stepped out of her sandals. “Huang Ahni,” he said in upperclass Beijing Mandarin. “Welcome to Dragon Home.” He gave her another shallow bow – you are not my equal it said, but you are my guest – and ushered her through the doorway and into the room behind it.

Woven carpets in shades of gold and black accented with lacquer red covered the floor and several chairs of carved wood covered with embroidered cushions circled a low table. An antique square of silk, exquisitely embroidered, hung on the eggshell colored wall. A carved screen hid a refreshment wall. This must be his private dock, she realized. This would be where he greeted visitors, perhaps offered them tea if they were not important enough to deal with in his private rooms.

“So what is your impression of life above the sky?” he asked as he ushered her through an arched doorway. “Your father has never been interested in the orbitals.”

“M y father keeps his eyes on the ground,” Ahni agreed. Polite chit chat, tea, then real talk. They passed through a small garden with a cloudless sky above, all gravel paths and neatly pruned bonnsai, with a pool full of gold and silver fish. Koi. She glanced at them. “I find this world … fascinating,” she said slowly. “It is not Earth.”

“You are perceptive.”

He was curious. And wary. He would know that she was a Class Nine empath. He himself was a Class Five. Sensitive enough to benefit him as a leader, not sensitive enough to read people clearly. “Have you tried a few games in micro gravity?” He smiled but his eyes glinted with a razor hint of mockery.

“I have indeed.” She smiled. “I enjoy exercising the wings of flight. And I envy those born here with such talent to fly.” It was a pleasantry, so his spike of reaction surprised her.

She had touched a nerve with this casual comment. Why?

“I rarely have time for childish games,” he said crisply. “But then you are on vacation, are you not?” He stood aside to usher her into the room beyond the garden.

This was his private chamber. More rugs covered the floor and the furniture was of lacquer, inlaid with mother of pearl, antiques lifted from Earth. An intricately carved and inlaid screen decorated one corner and a small bamboo plant grew in a celadon pot. Sofa and chairs with heavily embroidered cushions grouped about a low table with an inlaid surface. A tray held a round, imperfect pot and two cups. Ahni seated herself on the sofa, realizing that this furniiture was genuinely old, certainly more than a thousand years. Her grandmother could have told her which dynasty had produced it, who the emperors were, and why it ultimately failed. And then she would have rapped Ahni on the knuckles with her fan for not knowing these things.

“Tea?” Li Zhen was already pouring and Ahni realized that the pot was very old, perhaps from the Qin dynasty, shaped on a primitive wheel. How had it survived? Buried in some noble’s tomb? Dug up by looters, perhaps used by some peasant-family who bought it cheap in the bazaar because it wasn’t perfect and had been in the ground with the dead? Ahni accepted the cup of golden liquid that Li Zhen handed her, murmured thanks. The tea was flowery and delicate, delicious. She sipped it, bowed her thanks. “Very nice. From Earth?”

Li Zhen nodded. “But we grow good tea here. In our internal garden. Much like the one in the North American Alliance platform that you visited. Have you an interest in micro gravity gardening?”

First thrust. “Not really,” she said. “I am more interested in those who garden.”

“I see.” He looked up as a teenaged boy bearing a lacquer tray entered the room. He set several small dishes of tiny dumplings on the table, placed a pair of chopsticks before each of them along with a small plate. Bowed and departed. He looked like Li Zhen.

“Your son?” Ahni asked.

“No.” That spike of reaction flared again. “My cousin’s son. Please.” He gestured at the table. “Help yourself.”

Ahni picked up her chopsticks, selected one of the plump dumplings. It burst in her mouth, the tender skin releasing a flood of delicate broth and a filling of chopped pork and green onion. “Excellent.” She smiled at him, wondering about those spikes. “Your cook is better than the best dumpling shop in Tai Pei.”

“He was a chef in Beijing.” Li Zhen took one, gestured at the dish. “These are filled with duck,” he said.

“Very good. How is your father these days?” He gave her a brief sharp look as he popped a dumpling neatly into his mouth.

“You are right.” She smiled. “The duck is very good. My father is … concerned about his son. As you perhaps know.”

Li Zhen laid aside his chopsticks, sipped his tea thoughtfully. “Friendship is a very complex thing,” he mused. “One may amass a certain amount of … obligation. And when the time comes to disscharge it, one does. It would be distressing to find that one’s friend had used that obligation to dishonor his own family.”

“Particularly his father.” Ahni selected another dumpling. “But it may be, that one is not aware of the use to which one’s assistance may be put.”

Ahni nibbled at the dumpling. “Very nice,” she said. “Is the spinach from your garden here?”

“Of course. I will give you a tour of our rice paddies if you wish.”

“I would like that, another time.” She made her tone apologetic. “Alas, I need to speak with my brother, and I must concentrate on finding him first. Do you know where I might contact him?”

Li Zhen deftly selected another dumpling and put it on her plate. ”You must try this sweet one. It’s a specialty of my chef. I cannot tell you where your brother is.” His tone was apologetic.

He was lying, but Ahni made her face reflect resignation. “I am disappointed. I had hoped to … restore the situation. You’re right. That was excellent.” She laid her chopsticks crosswise on her plate. “Your chef is very skilled.”

Li Zhen bowed his head fractionally. “Please give your brother my regards when you speak to him,” he said. “I would be honored to entertain you both in Dragon Home. Since you have not visited the platforms before.”

“Perhaps we will do that.” She was tired of the polite circling. “The flowers you sent me were lovely. I enjoyed them.”

He acknowledged the point with the slightest hint of a smile.

“A gesture of apology,” he murmured. “For my inadvertent cooperation in less than honorable behavior.”

“I found the combination of scent to be … intriguing.”

“Ah, the richness of life is always tempered by the knowledge of the grave is it not?” He smiled gently at her.

“How true.” She picked up the teapot, poured tea into his cup, unasked. “A pair of assassins stalked me on Earth recently. The threat of the grave is always there, is it not?” She smiled at him. “We cannot spend our lives fearing it.”

Li Zhen got up abruptly, crossed to the wall beside the carved screen. At his approach it suddenly shimmered and seemed to beecome transparent, showing Ahni a layered landscape of corridors above, people, parks, busy manufacturing floors, and finally, the green and hot light of a garden, all overlaid like transparencies one atop the other. “What do you see?” he demanded.

Ahni feigned consideration. Not a test, no. Genuine question.

A tin can? Her father’s perspective, a floating outpost in a wasteland above the ground, of no real consequence. She looked with Dane’s eyes. She studied the corridors, the ant sized people, the man selling stems of fresh flowers, the woman applying a fiberlight tatttoo to a customer from a one-legged table that reminded her of Noah’s grill, the rich greens of the garden. “I see a world,” she said softly.

“Yes.” His eyes lighted as he looked at the bustle of life on the wall. Then he faced her, his eyes holding hers. “I am dismayed that your brother has caused trouble for your family. And I regret that I cannot tell you where he is. I have no argument with Huang Family. This world–as you so aptly named it–is my entire concern. I encourage you to remain here as my guest, for as long as you wish. This world up here .

. . its future is worth contemplation, Huang Ahni.”

Genuine invitation and … something more? “What is the future of this world, Zhen Li?”

“It is our tomorrow.”

A tickle of cold made the hairs rise on the back of her neck. “My father does not share your vision of tomorrow,” she said softly. “Nor does my brother. I think he may have misled you.”

“This is a possibility, of course.” He lifted the empty teapot from the table. “Take this as my gift.” He held it out to her. “It’s from the tomb of Qin Shi Huang.” He smiled, his eyes enigmatic, his emotions mixed enough to be unreadable. “You will appreciate it.”

“1 am honored.” She bowed as she took the pot, stunned at the gift, aware of the age of it against the skin of her palms. “I thank you for this treasure,” she murmured and meant it.

“I will be honored if you accept my invitation.” Zhen’s eyes were on her. She felt the gaze without needing to lift her eyes from the ancient porcelain in her hands.

“Thank you for inviting me,” she said. “I will … consider it.” The teenaged son of a cousin had appeared at the door, and her visit was obviously at an end. “And thank you for this gift. I will treasure it.” Which was truth and she let him hear it.

He didn’t answer, merely inclined his head. The son of a cousin led her back through the small reception chamber and her Courier was waiting for her. He didn’t say anything as she webbed in and the small dock opened. The hull was still transparent and she almost asked him to opaque it. But she didn’t, and on the trip back, cradled the pot in her lap. Qin Shi Huang. More than two thousand years ago he had unified the many warring states into one country, had given them a single currency and language and legal code. From his name, Qin, had come the name of China. He had died at age forty, leaving behind an army of pottery warriors to guard him that still stood watch. And China was whole, still.

Priceless, this pot. She touched it, wondering if that long ago emperor had ever touched it, picked it up with his own hands to pour tea for an honored guest. Beyond the seemingly transparent walls of this mobile bathtub, the blue-white ball of Earth shimmered, partially eclipsed by the dark mass of NYUp.

And she tried to feel the connection between this ancient piece of fire-hardened clay in her hands and that planet before her.

She could not, and that troubled her.

NO SOONER HAD THE BOY USHERED AHNI FROM THE chamber than part of the wall shimmered and thinned to reveal an arched doorway, and a bed beyond, covered with a raw silk coverlet. Xai stepped through the door, threw his head back and laughed.. “My little sister!” He grinned at Li Zhen, threw his arms wide, the long tail of his midnight hair knotted with ruby strands of fiberlight.