I smiled at her. “From what I can remember, more than okay. Help yourself to a robe and meet me in the dining room. I’ve got real moxa and sachan tea if you want it.”
“Should I wake Lirala?”
“Not a good idea. Let’s just say that Lir values her beauty sleep.” Privately, I pictured an enraged Lirala, kicking, punching, and ripping the jewelry from her friend’s flesh. No, you didn’t want to wake Lir up.
Fifteen minutes later, as I was leaning over the balcony, inhaling the aroma of rich Ardovan moxa, Pretty walked over wearing a borrowed robe. Her dark hair was wet from a quick shower.
“Wow, that’s some view,” she said.
I nodded and handed her a moxa.
It was some view. Probably the best view—or one of the best in the city. My domus was on the far western edge of New Torino, on a hill that jutted a little farther west than everything else, so mostly what I saw down below was the pristine Arden river, fifty kilometers wide and 40,000 kilometers long, that ran around the equator of Anglad. Technically, the Arden was a sea, but river sounded more romantic. And when you are terraforming a planet, you can make up whatever names you want.
“How fast are we going?” Pretty asked.
It was a question just about everyone wondered about when they first encountered the floating city.
“Not too fast,” I said. “Five or six kilometers an hour.” And then, before she could ask the expected follow-up question, I said, “It takes almost a full year to make a full circle around the globe.”
“Must be nice to always have a change of scenery.” She nodded to the range of mountains to the southwest.
“To be honest, it all kind of blends together, besides the bridge cities, of course. There are a bunch of forests, jungles, and mountain ranges, and one kind-of-small desert. You don’t see much at this elevation.”
“Still, it beats living underground.”
I had heard that the winds were bad on Amravadi, but I also knew that millions of people still lived there, mostly in subterranean cities. Which wouldn’t be an option for me—no matter how good the screens were.
“What brings you to New Torino?” I asked.
She took a sip of her moxa. “Oh, my family wanted me to see the galaxy. I’m spending a year with my aunt here. Then it’s off to Rygond and Kulah-to. Grand Tour.”
“Then back to Amravadi?”
Pretty shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll come back here. Work at my aunt’s stables.”
“Ah, that’s how you know Lirala.”
The Windsing family have been raising champion horses for centuries, and much of their stock came from original Earth bloodlines. The only thing Lir loved more than her drugs were her horses.
“Yeah. She wants to take me under her wing.”
“May the gods help you.” I smiled at her.
“I should actually get going soon. I need to get back to my aunt’s and do some stuff. Then Lirala and I are supposed to go shopping later on. She said my look is all wrong.”
“Don’t listen to her. You look beautiful.”
She blushed again.
We didn’t say anything for a good long while. Just finished up our moxa and stared off at the river, which was covered by a rolling mist that was just starting to burn off. Flocks of black hafon noisily winged their way over the surface of the water, snatching fish that glistened in the morning light like Pretty’s jewelry.
“Does your dad live here too?” Pretty asked. “I mean, in New Torino?”
I had wondered how long it would take her to mention my father. Pretty much everyone does, sooner or later. When you’re the son of one of the most famous men in the galaxy, you really can’t get away from it. Still, I felt a tinge of disappointment. I was hoping that Pretty would be different.
“No, he doesn’t.”
I said the words without emotion. Just stating a fact. But Pretty must have been very sensitive. Her expression immediately clouded and she began to apologize. Profusely.
“No big deal,” I said. “My father’s actually a pretty private person and we’re not that close, to be honest.”
“I’m so sorry. I can be a real dimbag.” She got up to leave, her face red.
“Hey, Pretty—”
She spun on her heel at the doorway. “It’s Preity, actually.”
“Yeah, sorry. I thought that was your nickname.”
“Only according to Lirala. I hope it doesn’t stick.”
“Anyway, I was going to say that you should hang out today. A bunch of us are going hover-skimming later.”
“I don’t know.”
“Come on. It’s much more fun than horseback riding.”
“Yeah, we don’t really do that at my aunt’s. The horses are more for show.”
“Well, it’s more fun than shopping. Seriously, think about it. We’re connected on overlay, right?”
“Yeah, Lirala did all that all last night. Is that okay?”
“Of course it’s okay.”
Yeah, Lirala liked to share. As long as it was on her terms.
Pretty—Preity looked down. “Well, bye. This was really fun. Tell Lirala to call me when she wakes up.”
“I hope I see you later.”
After she left, I got myself another cup of moxa and returned to the balcony. The day had started so well, but as usual, my father’s presence cast a shadow over everything.
It was hard for most people to comprehend. My father was not just a celebrity. Sean Beck was a legend. An explorer and adventurer who braved unimaginable dangers and unearthed all sorts of ancient treasures from long long-dead civilizations. And he did it with the flair and panache of the best showman who ever lived.
Billions of people across systems far and wide knew his name and followed his exploits. And as a result, he became extremely wealthy, as did the family business, the fake-modestly-named Beck Salvage.
It was one of the greatest success stories of the past fifty years.
The only problem was that Sean Beck wasn’t the man people thought he was.
He was me.
2
When I returned to my bedroom, Lirala was awake. She stretched, catlike, and regarded me with her large, bright eyes—looking altogether too good
