I wasn’t sure how I felt about being sat opposite Mack, instead of beside him, but I didn’t argue. For his part, Mack didn’t seem too happy with the arrangement, either. But he didn’t protest. I followed his lead, and let my personal waiter, tuck me into my chair.
As soon as we were settled, with napkins on our laps, and our personal minders arrayed along the wall behind us, the door to the kitchens opened. I knew they were the doors to the kitchens, because I still had the floorplans for the complex running through my head.
Mack caught that thought and pulled a face, shaking his head like I’d spoken out loud.
I reran the last minute in my head, and found I hadn’t. Couldn’t figure out what was bothering Mack so much about me having the blueprints to Barangail’s home in my head. We might need them, right?
Mack shook his head, again, and rested it in his hand, and I still couldn’t work out why. It wasn’t like what I’d done was a secret. After all, the man had given the order out loud. Even the spiders in my head knew I’d hacked Barangail’s system three ways to the Stars and back.
And they should, because I’d used their psi connection to my head to access their arach implants to get into their host’s systems and servers. It’s not like that was a secret.
“No, but the fact that we’re that deep in his system, is.”
And I froze. While I hadn’t forgotten I had two uninvited psionic guests riding shotgun in my mind, I hadn’t realized they were close enough to maintain the connection. I wondered exactly how they were doing that.
“Surely your Delight told you about long-range psi?”
I wanted to answer that, but I couldn’t remember if she had, or not. Not that it mattered. Long range psi, huh? How long range?
“Some of us can speak between starships.”
I wondered how much distance was between the starships, and if that needed special focus, but the spiders weren’t forthcoming. Before I could chase that down via their implants, a trolley bearing a large soup tureen was pushed through the kitchen doors, and wheeled over to stop beside Barangail. I watched as they served his lordship first, and then watched as they served Mack next.
I was served last, but I didn’t mind; it gave me a chance to check the contents of the tureen before anyone ate—Mack specifically. I stood up as it drew to a halt beside me, and swiped my finger horizontally through the contents of the bowl, checking for an invisible barrier. When I found none, I swiped it the other way, pleasantly surprised to find nothing.
I couldn’t smell any glorrin in the steam rising from the tureen, either.
“The chef made enough for his lordship’s household; we were told to offer it as an alternative,” the steward told me, and I couldn’t work out if he was offended, or disgusted.
Across the table, Mack bowed his head and covered his eyes with one hand. I ignored him, and sat, wiping my soupy finger on my trouser leg, and watching as the steward picked up my bowl and filled it. Lord Barangail watched the whole show, not a shred of emotion on his face, and I wondered if he knew what I’d been doing, or if he was taking notes for next time.
“We’ll discuss business, after we eat,” he said, and gestured towards our bowls. “In the meantime, enjoy your meal.”
We ate, and I was surprised to find the stim settling in my blood, instead of sending tremors of energy through my limbs. The first time Delight had hit me with a fast-healing chemical cocktail, I’d had so much energy I’d needed to run, and I’d run for miles, covering the length of several city blocks and the circumference of a small airfield in record time. After that, there’d come the battle, and then oblivion in a regen tank while I mended. I really hoped it wouldn’t come to that, this time.
Mack looked across the table at me. The soup was long past, as was the starter and the main. The dishes had just been cleared, and we were waiting for dessert. Not that I wanted to wait; I just wanted to get down to discussing the contract, finalizing the details, and starting whatever mission it was that Barangail had in mind.
“If I agree to it,” Mack said, keeping his words confined to our comms.
Oh, yeah. There was that. I contemplated the kitchen doors, Barangail, his nervously shifting bodyguards, the hovering waiters, the visual pick-ups camouflaged against the ceiling, the arach sitting quietly in my head and not saying a single word. What did they want with this world, anyway?
The arrival of the sorbet brought my attention back to the table, and I realized I’d missed the stewards returning. Was the stim pack wearing off? I checked for pain, and found none, and wondered exactly what Mack and Doc had cooked up, because I was pretty sure I should still be feeling the other effects.
“The nanites are controlling the release,” Mack said, as I worried at the problem. “Eat your dessert. The rest will be there when you need it.”
It would? I wondered what would trigger the effect, and how long it would be between trigger and consequence.
“Not long,” Mack said. “Please eat your dessert.”
Please, huh? Again. I eyed the sorbet, and realized it hadn’t been served from a communal dish, that each portion had been individually delivered, and that Mack was already eating. I shot a glance towards our host, and noticed that he was eating, also. He caught my eye, and gestured towards the sweets sitting before me.
Really? I lifted the bowl in one hand, and raised it to my
