Alvarez led me to a table around the corner from the band and the worst of the noise. People back seemed to be engaged in a variety of discussions ranging from a half dozen heatedly arguing the relative merits of various engine manifold temperatures on combustion efficiency to a quartet in black leather discussing the symbolism in Peneu Narvat’s new holo,
“Thanks,” I told her.
“You’re welcome,” she said and sipped hers. “Oh, this is good,” she said with surprise.
“You’ve never had it before?”
She gave a little embarrassed flick of her head. “Actually, no. At least not straight.”
“When I realized who you were, I wanted to say thank you.”
She sipped again. Neither of us dared put our drinks on the table because it kept wobbling so badly. “Thank me? For what?”
“You remember a greenie wiper in environmental? Carstairs?”
“About a year ago? We traded him for Murdock?”
“Yeah, I believe so.”
“I remember him. Nice kid. Got off on the wrong foot with the crew and was in a hurry to get somewhere else.”
“That’s him. You gave him some good advice, and I wanted to thank you for it.”
“What did I tell him?”
“Slow down and enjoy the ride. He took it to heart. He’s doing well over on the
She raised her glass in a vague toast. “Well, ya never know where the seeds will sprout, do you? Thanks for telling me. Is that why you asked me to dance?”
“No, I asked you to dance because even from across the room I could tell you needed to get out there and shake those hips, and none of the guys you were with seemed to notice.”
“What made you think I’d go?”
“I didn’t. But I was pretty sure you weren’t going to ask me.”
She laughed at that. “Well, that’s probably true. Although, give me some credit. I did notice that you disposed of Murdock pretty quickly.”
“You’re a good person. You look out for your own.”
“And she is one of mine after all, eh? You didn’t like her?”
“I told you. I came to meet a fascinating woman. Murdock just wasn’t that interesting. There’s more to life than cleavage.”
“Most guys don’t share that particular view.” She scowled into her glass as she spoke.
“I’m not most guys.”
She looked up and considered me then with a speculative light in her eyes. “I can see that.”
We sat there quietly sipping and looking at each other for a while. “Are you always this quiet?” she asked.
“Are you?”
“No! Usually I chatter away a meter a minute.”
I shrugged. “I thought we were communicating pretty well, actually. Am I boring you?”
She shook her head. “Not yet.”
“Let me know when I am and I’ll go.”
“Just like that? I say, okay, you’re boring me. And you leave.”
I gave a little shrug. “Of course. What else?”
“What if I bore you? Will you tell me to leave?”
“I doubt that you could bore me. I don’t even know you yet.”
“Damn you are good. Classical training?”
“Mom was an ancient literature professor. I grew up on the classics.”
“You’re kidding!”
I shook my head. “Nope. Melville and Forester were her specialty areas, but I grew up with Shakespeare. What about you?”
“The only classics I ever got were at the academy, and there wasn’t much there.”
That last part sounded a bit bitter, so I did not push it. I steered the conversation a bit. “Where’d you get your philosophical outlook to enjoy the ride?”
She looked a little embarrassed. “Fortune cookie.”
It was so unexpected I laughed. “Okay, you got me with that one.”
“No, seriously. It was near the end of my last year at the academy and a bunch of us went out to dinner one night to an oriental restaurant down by the docks in Port Newmar. The whole evening we had this discussion about berths and ships. You know, where there were openings and who was going where—that kind of thing. We drank a lot of beer and no small amount of sake. I kept saying how much I wanted to be done with the academy and get onto a ship. Like getting onto a ship was going to be some kind of answer. Like by being there would mean I had have arrived, you know?”
“Oh, yeah. I know very well.” I just wanted her to keep talking. I did not care what she said.
“We got the fortune cookies and mine said, ‘Life is the only journey with a final destination.’”
“That must have made quite an impression.”
“Well, I’m still using it five years later, but at the time, I think the beer and sake were contributing factors.” She swirled the cubes in her glass for a few heartbeats before arching an eyebrow in my direction. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Where did you get that jacket? It’s spectacular.”
“I got it here on the orbital the other day. Chez Henri’s up on eleven.”
She snorted in disbelief. “You were not at Chez Henri.”
“What do you wanna bet.”
“If you were at Chez Henri, I’ll give you a night you’ll never forget,” she said with a smoldering look that I think she practiced in the mirror because it was very, very effective.
“No bet.”
“Ha, I knew it!”
“No, you misunderstand. You’ve already given me that. You’ll need to do better.”
She stopped and laughed. “Damn, you are good.”
“What’ll it take to convince you? And what are the stakes?”
“My gods. You were!”
I held open the jacket so she could see the label on the inside lining.
“That doesn’t prove anything,” she said, but I could tell she was not disputing my claim, just the evidence.
I finished my drink and put the empty glass on the table without speaking.
“You were!”
“Yeah. You know Brill? Brilliantine Smith?” I asked.
“Your boss? Of course.”
“She was there with me. She insisted on going.”
“No!”
“I took Beverly and Diane, too.”
“Beverly? Black leather, buzz cut Beverly?”
“Hey, that’s my shipmate you’re talking about.”
“And Diane Ardele? Works with you in environmental? Petite little mink?”
