No Going Back (28 page)

“Ray was,” the man said. “He loved this stuff. So, which ones would you like?”

“All of them,” Zoe said.

The man shook his head. “You clearly knew a lot of these. Why would you buy what you already have?”

“Some of them I do have,” she said, “but not most of them. Some contain different versions of songs I know, versions I don’t have. A lot of it was new to me. The safest bet is to take it all.”

“What will you do with it?” he said.

She stared at him for several seconds before she said, “You know the singer, Passion, the one who performs old songs?”

“No,” he said, “can’t say as I do. I haven’t liked a new musician in what must be eighty, ninety years now, and these old things aren’t really my taste, either.”

“Well, I work with her,” Zoe said, “and together we find old songs we love, arrange them, and then she performs them.”

“So you’re going to use them to make money,” he said.

“Yes,” she said, “but we’re also going to love them.”

“I told you they weren’t cheap,” he said.

“How about this deal,” she said. “Your brother almost certainly had a price in mind for the collection, and he was bound to have bragged to you about what it was worth.”

“He did.”

“Whatever he quoted, it was almost certainly more than it was really worth.”

“Collectors do tend to be that way,” the man said.

“So you charge me whatever he told you,” she said, “and I’ll pay it. You just give me something ugly and cheap to carry it out in.” She glanced at me. “It’ll make his job easier if I look like a tourist with no money or taste.”

“You’d pay that much,” the man said, “for music you didn’t even hear? I could be lying to you. Those could be empties.”

“But you’re not,” she said, “and they’re not, so, yes, yes, I would.”

He smiled broadly. “Well, all right then. Let’s go out front, pick something not too hideous, and do some business.”

They chose an old leather satchel that looked like it had once been an overnight bag for someone who traveled light. The man let Zoe pack the data modules.

“Do you need the players, too?” he said.

“Thank you, but no,” she said. “We have all of these and more. If it’s held music, we can read it.”

Back at the front room, Zoe got out her wallet and paid him quickly and without argument.

“It’s been a pleasure,” the man said as he was opening the door for us.

Zoe started to hand me the bag. “It’s heavy,” she said. “Would you—”

“No,” I said. “I need my hands free. You carry it, and act like it’s light.”

“Listen to your man there,” the old man said. “He knows what he’s doing.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said.

“Thank you,” Zoe said.

We stepped outside. The light was much brighter here, so I put my arm in front of Zoe while my eyes adjusted. While my face was away from her view, I subvocalized over the comm, “Issues?”

“Nothing right now,” Lobo said, “but I have no way to know whether any of the many people who watched you go into that store are going to bother you on the way out. Don’t worry; I’ll yell if someone comes within fifteen meters of you.”

“Walk down this street,” I said, “and look in the other shops.”

“Why?” Zoe said.

“Not now,” I said. “Walk. Try not to smile so much, either.”

When most people buy something valuable in a place like this, they hurry with it. If you take your time, then your purchase is probably not worth a lot.

We took our time. We stopped and looked into shop windows, murmured as if debating entering, and slowly made our way back to the vacant lot.

When we were thirty meters out from it, Lobo came down fast. He settled above the rubble perfectly and opened his hatch.

It was entirely too showy for my taste, but Zoe didn’t appear to notice. She was still beaming from her acquisition.

As soon as we were inside, Lobo lifted off.

I pointed her toward the front and followed her.

As soon as we got there, she put the satchel on the pilot couch she used, turned, and said, her smile back and even bigger than before, “This is the most amazing find I’ve ever made! You have no idea how much great music is on these! It’s amazing!”

She grabbed my shoulders, pulled me closer, and kissed me on the cheek. “Thank you so much, Jon, for coming with me! I was lying about Bing; I wouldn’t have come with him. Without you, we wouldn’t have this music. Passion will be so excited!”

She settled into the couch.

I stood there for a couple of seconds longer, the feel of her body against mine and her lips on my cheek still fresh.

Then I went to my pilot couch and sat.

“Now, though,” she said, “we have to get back. The show is only a few hours away.”

“Take us back, Lobo,” I said aloud.

“What am I,” he said over the machine frequency, “deaf?”

CHAPTER 35

Jon Moore

P
assion stood out of sight of the stage as the announcer’s voice boomed her name.

Zoe stood beside her.

The other musicians walked onto the stage, from the outside as calm and casual as anyone could be. Minutes earlier, some had been that way, but most had vibrated with nervous energy.

Passion turned and hugged Zoe.

Zoe held her tightly and said, “Good show.”

Passion nodded, stepped back, and ran onto the stage.

The crowd erupted in cheers and applause.

Lights illuminated Passion from behind and above. All the other lights went out.

She lowered her head, stared at the stage, and began to sing. In person, her voice was stronger even than in the recordings I’d watched. After she finished the first line of the song, the musicians began to play. Her head rose slowly, as if the music were lifting her up, until she was staring at the audience, a tiny woman on a big stage but also a large face on huge displays around the amphitheater and on comms in the audience. The music grew in volume, her voice always with it but never obscured by it. She sang of a girl who loved a boy, a boy who had to go, a boy who didn’t return, and of the girl who waited and hoped.

I’d never heard the song before, and I was of course never a girl, but like all the best music the truths it spoke became my own. I thought again of when I’d left Omani and burned with shame and guilt at what I’d done to her, at what I’d lost. Maggie walked away from me again, the taste of her kiss still on my lips, and I ached with what I might have had, what I might have lost, even though I’d chosen to let her go.

I glanced to my left, where Zoe stood alone. She was watching Passion, soundlessly singing every word along with the woman who was in every way that mattered her sister. They shared the music then, Passion in the spotlight with everyone completely focused on her, Zoe alone in the dark, and to my surprise I found I could not stop watching Zoe.

When Passion finished the song, for a few seconds the stage went dark and lights illuminated the crowd. They were standing, cheering, staring into the darkness where Passion waited for them.

Zoe noticed me staring at her.

“Sorry,” she said, “if that looks stupid, me singing with her. It probably is, but I’ve done it for so long now that I can’t watch the show any other way—and I never miss a show.”

I shook my head slowly as the audience returned to the dark and Passion grabbed the light again. Another song started, this time the musicians playing first, Passion waiting to join them.

“No,” I said. I struggled to find the words. “No, not stupid.” I looked away from her, feeling suddenly stupid myself. “Beautiful.”

Zoe must have thought I was looking at Passion, because she said, “Yes, yes she is.”

I looked back at Zoe. “Not her.”

As the music reached a peak, Zoe opened her mouth to sing, and Passion’s voice again filled the amphitheater.

* * *

After the show, Passion grabbed Zoe as she rushed past.

Zoe looked over her shoulder at me. “Jon,” she said, “would you like to come with us, maybe meet some VIPs?”

If there was anything I didn’t want, it was more visibility, so I said, “Thanks for the invitation, but I’m not much for those sorts of things. I’m going to sleep. Have a good time.”

Zoe opened her mouth as if to speak, but then the musicians and Passion and all the others carried her away.

I went back to Lobo.

“I don’t know about you,” Lobo said aloud as soon as I was inside, “but I think the next nineteen days until Schmidt’s are going to be mighty boring. I can appreciate the clarity of Passion’s voice and the skills of the musicians, but actually feeling the music, as I know humans do, is beyond me.”

“I’m sorry for that,” I said. I stretched out on my cot. “I truly am. The songs tonight were amazing, powerful and moving and often like feelings I’ve had but could never explain.”

“I guess the time won’t be as boring for you,” Lobo said.

I felt full, but not of food, rather of feelings I couldn’t exactly name and certainly couldn’t control. I was tired, but more from what I felt than from the work I’d done that day. “I’m exhausted,” I said, “and I want to go to sleep. You’ll let in Zoe?”

“Of course,” Lobo said.

As I was drifting off, I said, I thought to myself but apparently out loud, “You should have seen her.”

“Of course I saw the transmission,” Lobo said. “Passion looked in fine form.”

Not her
, I thought, as I fell asleep,
not her
.

19 days from the end

Angelis City

Planet Haven

CHAPTER 36

Jon Moore

W
hen Zoe emerged from her room the next morning, I was outside stretching after a run I’d taken to clear my head. I’d stayed close, and Lobo had called me when she’d begun to stir, so I was there to do whatever she needed.

“You’re up early,” she said as she stepped outside.

“Always. Plus, I went to bed before you.”

“That you did,” she said. “Good show, wasn’t it?”

“Very good,” I said. “I rarely see live music outside of bars and clubs, so it was an interesting experience.”

She stared at me for a moment. “Did you like what you saw?” She was smiling, but only slightly, and her eyes wouldn’t leave mine.

I had no idea what to say.

Fortunately, Bing ran up and started asking her questions. She gave me a quick last look and then focused on him, the manager back and on the job.

The crew had finished most of the load-out after the show, but then they’d headed to the hotel and left security to watch the gear and the final packing for morning. I considered that a poor choice, but apparently it was common practice. Venues might be bad at protecting stars, but the crew’s verdict was that you could trust them to watch over carted gear, particularly because you could bill them for anything they lost.

Everyone was so tired that they arrived late, so we were starting to pack a good two hours later than yesterday. We all hustled; every minute we could save now would be a minute we could use in setup and rehearsal later today.

I found the paintbots and borrowed them again so they could put the logo on Lobo. As they worked, I joined the group loading the ships.

When the packing was complete and Passion was ready, we resumed our flying formation and left.

* * *

The day passed in a blur of work. I learned that yesterday’s uneventful load-in had been an exception, not the norm. Today, something seemed to go wrong every five minutes, and each problem required Zoe’s attention. Power supplies were inadequate. Stage shields stuck. A representative of the venue arrived to clarify the contract on the percentage of involvement from his staff; he left with a bribe. Some lights were too strong; others, too weak. Passion didn’t like the way the musicians sounded during the rehearsal, so they repeated sections of songs and a few whole songs over and over.

I was Zoe’s errand boy, running where she told me, finding people and bringing them to her, delivering messages she wanted them to hear in person instead of over a comm, and on and on. I didn’t mind. I had nothing else to do, the work fit the role for which they hired me, and the rest of the crew seemed to expect it from me. It helped me fit in, which was a good thing given how long I’d been there.

It also helped me stay busy enough that I didn’t have any more time to consider Zoe’s question this morning or the show last night.

I was relaying a message to the stage manager when Passion called a break in the rehearsal. Tonight’s show was in a building with seats all around the stage, even behind it, and an outer ring around the seats where people entered the structure and walked to find their seats. It was bigger than the amphitheater, but not by a great deal. The sections of seats behind the stage were blocked off, and a huge piece of black fabric made it look as if the stage were up against a wall. The musicians left, but she stayed on stage, drinking some water and staring into the empty chairs where in a few more hours the audience would be. Two of Passion’s security people stood on each side of the stage, one watching the side, the other the front.

I headed behind the stage to return to Zoe. As I was walking out of the building, I noticed movement in the seats behind the stage. I stopped, turned, and looked back where I thought I’d seen something move. The area, like most of the building, was dark; Passion liked to rehearse under conditions as close to those of the real show as possible.

More movement, all of it low to the ground, at the height of the top of the seats.

I edged along the wall toward it.

A man stood at the low wall that separated the seats from the floor of the building. The walkway down from there was blocked, but with a low gate. He climbed over it and walked quietly down the stairs.

I reached him as he was stepping onto the floor.

He had something in his hand.

I hit him in the stomach.

He doubled over, gasping.

I grabbed his arms, pulled them back, and as he straightened wove my left arm between his arms and his body and locked him in place.