Ambasadora book 1 of amb.., p.17
Ambasadora (Book 1 of Ambasadora), page 17
“I think Kenon’s jealous that he might not be the prettiest guy on board anymore,” Mari said.
David’s head snapped around from the pilot’s seat. Mari put her hand on his knee and gave him a knowing smile. The others pretended not to notice.
“Those jackets look stupid,” Sean said.
“You just have to know how to wear them,” Kenon said.
Geir laughed. “I may take mine off before we reach the monorail station. But, seriously, Sean, in the three years I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you so shiny and polished. It’s because of a woman, isn’t it?”
Sean ignored them all and took a seat between Sara and Soli.
“Someone you’re meeting tonight, I’m betting,” Geir persisted.
Sara’s stomach twisted. She hadn’t considered Sean might be involved with someone. Their kiss suddenly made her feel foolish. She should be beyond these kinds of emotional fallacies. They had her imagining a future with a man she barely knew. Worse, they had her imagining a future at all. As the group continued teasing Sean and making predictions about the woman who waited for him at the Tredificio, Sara regained sight of why she was there in the first place and what she needed to do in order to save herself.
She couldn’t be upset with Sean. He was just a kind person who helped her when she needed it. Shame on her for reading too much into his gesture.
TWENTY-EIGHT
The tinkling melody filtering through the monorail made Sean want to scream. It had taken forever to transfer from the Bard‘s transport to the monorail station and even longer to wait for an available train. He should have brought an extra doser with him. Maybe it would have helped to stave off his sudden irritability.
When Kenon started to hum to the saccharine tune, Sean couldn’t take it. “Why do they even make music like this? Nobody listens to it except when they’re trapped in one of these things.”
“I think it’s pretty catchy.” Kenon hummed louder, now that he knew it bothered Sean.
Sara’s kiss was to blame for Sean’s current mood, or rather, how that small gesture had made him feel.
He had to remind himself that she felt nothing for him, despite the kiss, which he kept replaying in his head until he thought he would go crazy. When he wasn’t thinking about the kiss, he thought about her breasts nearly spilling out of the dress when he walked in and the control he exerted fastening each one of those little hooks. Thoughts of where that kiss could have led bombarded him until he could think of nothing else. That’s why he chose a seat as far from her as possible during this ride, not that she had spoken to him while in the transport. In fact, she hadn’t looked at him, even with their shoulders and thighs brushing against each other during the trip. Had he done something to upset her? It shouldn’t matter. He never thought this much about a woman. It worried him.
Paranoia was setting in, but Sean welcomed it this time; it helped him to remember his earlier meeting with Ephemerata in the V-side and focus on who or what might be waiting for him at the Tredificio.
“That is beautiful.” Mari drew Sean’s attention to the opposite side of the transport. The polarized window showed the pink setting sun falling behind three glass pyramids suspended above a waterfall.
“The Tredificio is the only reason to come to Tampa Three,” Kenon said. “They should just move it to Tampa Quad.”
“Tampa Quad isn’t so great,” Mari said.
“You tell yourself that because you didn’t grow up there.”
“At least I grew up.”
Sean tuned out the snarky comments they volleyed back and forth and watched the three buildings draw closer. He wondered why no one had ever thought to map this place and go virtual. The waterfall would cause some challenges, but techs liked challenges. Maybe some architect had already done a mock up, and Sean just hadn’t run into it yet.
The three ziggurat-type buildings which made up the Tredificio cascaded down nine levels that were connected by covered walkways. With the sun dipping behind the horizon, the illuminated walkways glowed brightly. Magenta and purple hues at the top descended the spectrum into blues and greens at the base.
“Now those are viewers! They must have a different Media channel showing on every cantilever,” Geir said.
All Sean could see were blurry images flickering on the cantilever faces. Less than perfect eyesight was a deficit inherited from his Lower Caste mother, but in the V-side he could compensate.
“What is that?” Mari asked, as they neared the transport monorail station. “David?”
Sean could see it now. Splashed nineteen meters high across the third cantilever face was a vid of David and Sara in a lavish bedroom. They all watched as David slid her dress up her thigh. It cut to a different angle, showing him pulling her straps off her shoulders, then nuzzling her neck.
Sean’s irritability reached the teeth-crunching point. He stole a glance at Sara, but she stared at the viewer. Shock registered on her face first, then anger.
“That never happened,” David protested.
“So you were never in that room together?” Mari looked like she might cry.
Sean never wanted to hit David more than he did right now.
“That’s the room they kept us in, but there wasn’t time for any of…that before they drugged us,” David said.
“You were taking drugs, too?” Kenon asked.
“We were drugged. By someone else. And attacked by contractors,” David said.
This bit of information gave Sean pause. Sara never mentioned it to him. Of course she was sliding out of her mind the whole night, so why would she? Especially if this was part of a set up by the Embassy. It was still hard for Sean to watch, though not as hard as it was for Mari.
“David’s telling the truth, Mari.” Sara’s voice was calm, almost detached, even under Mari’s accusing stare.
The transport zipped by, but the passengers picked up the Media action on the next building, sixth level up this time. David’s shirt was gone, so was Sara’s dress. Her bare back faced the camera as David lowered her to the bed.
“Is this where the contractors come in?” Kenon asked.
David stared him down, but spoke to Mari. “None of this happened.”
Another image showed a tight shot of Sara’s head on a pillow, then David leaning in and kissing her.
“Well, most of it didn’t happen,” David muttered.
Sean didn’t like the sound of that. His imagination got the best of him, especially as the scene continued with flashes of skin. Mari looked away. Sean couldn’t, so he was thankful when the monorail passed under the viewer as the vid started to get more graphic.
“It figures,” Kenon said. “Right as we were getting to the good part.” He scanned the next grouping of cantilevers. “Maybe it’s on one of these.”
“The whole thing is a lie,” Sara said.
“Pretty hard to fool a voyeur,” Soli said.
Sean tried to keep quiet, but never did have much control over his mouth. “She’s right.”
“Soli?” Geir asked.
“No. Sara’s right.” He glanced at her. “Those shots have been mixed and painted, probably reshot in sections with standins or a compilation of digital images.”
“How do you know?” Mari asked, a little hope entering her voice.
The real answer was because after spending the night taking care of Sara, watching her, and holding her in his arms, he knew her body. Instead, he gave them the technical version.
“For one thing, her dress is wrong. Sara’s had deeper cleavage.” Or, maybe it was Sara who had the deeper cleavage.
“They botched the bio-lights on her right shoulder blade—the pattern’s not even close.” He had stared at that particular swirl of lights so much he could map every little purple dot by memory.
“Her hair is the wrong texture.” He wanted to say softer, but how he could know that from just a vid?
“And, the arch of her body is all wrong.” He remembered the feel of her curled up next to him, every slope and angle. “Sara’s curves outward slightly from her waist to her hips, and her waist is a lot smaller than that. Plus, she has matching dimples just above her….” He should probably stop there. “On her lower back.”
The train car was silent, except for the cheery music. The surprised stares said that he had revealed too much, implying more of an intimacy than he intended.
“You have to be kidding me.” Kenon nearly sputtered in outrage. “Of all the people….”
Geir slapped a stunned David in the chest and said, “I guess he won’t be filing anymore petitions with the Embassy.”
Sean had definitely said too much and was worried he had betrayed Sara’s confidence or painted a picture as false as the vid playing over the Media. He chanced a look at her, expecting to see disappointment or anger. He noticed his words brought a blush to her cheeks where even the vid hadn’t.
Kenon was beside himself. He asked, “Why, Sara? Why him?”
The others waited for her to respond. Sean tried to think of a way to explain how he knew such personal details without compromising more of Sara’s trust. He could say he had been watching her without her knowing it. He’d look like a pervert, but at least they wouldn’t think Sara docked him right after meeting him. He could bare their judgment to protect her image. It’s not like he cared much about his reputation anyway. He was about to bite the bullet when Sara simply shrugged and said, “He’s sexy.”
Sean couldn’t hide the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Maybe that kiss did mean something to her, too.
As the train decelerated into the station, Geir said, “I told you he cleaned himself up for a woman.”
Festive trills announced the group’s arrival among a mob of extravagantly dressed Uppers, all clamoring to talk with Sara up ahead. Sean moved against the throng with David and Mari, who were in a full blown argument.
“Mari, that wasn’t real. You know that, right? Sean proved it.”
“Maybe it just proves Sara’s working her way through every man on the ship,” Mari said.
“She’s not like that,” Sean snapped out. He wanted to explain how innocent her time with him had been, but Mari pressed on.
“You’re delusional, Sean. If a voyeur records it, the Media will air it. That’s why they’re so effective. They capture it all. Just look around.”
He had counted six voyeurs since they disembarked and was trying to avoid direct eye contact with all the flying spies. It was the Embassy’s way of saying once you entered public domain, you forfeited your privacy. He also suspected they could manipulate and suppress the live feeds for their own purposes—the incident with Sara and David proved it.
Kenon and Geir eddied out of the crowd in front of them.
“How do they expect us to be seen in a crowd this large?” Kenon asked.
Though Sean didn’t like being smashed against so many people, he did welcome its temporary anonymity.
“There’s a Media kiosk. I’m going to talk to somebody about that broadcast.” David hesitated and looked at Mari, then pushed toward the kiosk a few meters away.
Geir put an arm around Mari and gave her a quick kiss to the side of her head. “Don’t worry. David’s crazy about you. We all see it.”
Kenon leaned in. “Though everyone likes to sample something new now and then.”
“Leave it alone, Kenon,” Sean said. He still tended to be a bit protective of Mari. “You’re just pissed because Giselle’s taking an Armadan amour.”
“An Armadan in your family circle?” Geir started into one of his loud, bellowing laughs.
Kenon balked. “Nothing’s official yet.”
Geir took Mari’s arm and guided her toward the welcoming center. “You got nothing to worry about with David. Trust me.”
Trust. One virtue Sean had a hard time finding in this system.
Several attendants from the welcoming center rushed at the new arrivals to upload v-maps of the Tredificio into the guests’ wrist reporters. Sean could barely hear the brunette woman spieling to him about the Tredificio’s amenities as she competed with a barrage of synth spiders playing around them. He walked away from the attendant mid-sentence, scanning the mass of people for Sara.
She was surrounded by clinging Socialites, and Soli was right in the middle of it all, acting as Sara’s personal liaison and smiling pretty for the voyeurs hovering overhead. She looked more comfortable with the attention than Sara did.
A woman strolled up beside him and took his arm. “It’s been a long time.”
Sean looked the woman over, seeking recognition. Deep blue bangs framed her jawline but the rest of her shoulder-length hair was blonde. Her face was a homogenized combination of the usual Socialite features. He breathed in her citrusy scent, but still no memories came.
“Don’t tell me you forgot about me already. Our friend, Zak, would be so disappointed.”
It was then he noticed the mayfly hologram pin at the bottom of her cleavage. The wings fluttered.
“Our last meeting was kind of ephemeral,” he said, testing his theory.
She put her hand over his ear and kissed him on the cheek. A puff of air blasted into his ear. He flinched.
“We have a subvocal connection now through this cocom.” He heard her voice inside his head, but her lips never moved. The cocom devices were gaining popularity among the fraggers, but Sean thought using one was a good way to mark yourself as a criminal. Guess he no longer had a choice.
“Call me Phoebe and act like you’re happy to be catching up on old times.” What she vocalized for everyone else was, “I bet I could find a way to help you remember.”
“I don’t think we’ve met.” Sara stood at Sean’s elbow with Soli.
He looked only at Sara as he introduced the women. It felt awkward using her full title. Distancing. He didn’t like it.
“Nice to meet you.” Sara gave Phoebe’s hand a pulse, then slipped her hand into Sean’s. The subtle show of possessiveness sent little electric sparks through his fingertips.
“You’re quite friendly with the ambasadora.”
“She’s just a passenger on my ship.” The subvocal conversing was giving him a headache, or maybe it was just the new implant.
“Your body language tells me otherwise. You’re worried about how she’s responding to our implied intimacy.”
Sean didn’t say anything.
“Sara, there’s someone you have to meet.” Soli called to a friend.
Sara looked from Sean to Phoebe once more. “I’ll see you at dinner, Sean?” She kissed his cheek.
“Sure.” He squeezed her hand before letting go.
Phoebe said her farewell pleasantries to Sara as she reproached Sean. “She’s dangerous. I received the same background check on her that you did. She was trained as a contractor and most likely sent to eliminate you.”
“I considered that. I have it under control.”
Sean watched Sara walk away.
“I’d say she has you under control.”
“I said I—”
Phoebe cut him off. “Do you have a dance for an old tumble?” She took Sean by the arm and led him through an entryway to a large elevated platform.
Numerous couples held each other close and softly swayed around a darkened dance floor. Sean hesitated when he spotted the turquoise beams of mind minstrels scanning the dancers. It was bad enough citizens fell over themselves to have a voyeur record their actions and opinions for Media broadcast, but now the Embassy had taken transparency a step further by stealing a fragger interrogation technology and repurposing it to read a person’s thoughts and emotions.
Not actual thoughts, not even the tech geniuses among the fragger organization could do that…yet. Rather, these thin floating parallelograms scanned a target to read their brain waves. Depending on what center of the brain was most active, they could interpret emotion, mood, and bits of memory, occasionally a word or two if the person saw words spelled out in his head. The odd result had been a tonal feedback that resulted in almost musical patterns. As a joke, someone worked up a randomizing program which assigned notes to certain data as it came in, then played the results back as musical entertainment, sometimes with lyrics snatched from bits of dialog.
One of the small devices hovered above a kissing couple to their right. Its beat became sultry and loud as the couple groped one another. The mind minstrel drew on their energy. Its rhythm followed the sway of their hips and the pounding of their hearts. A low female voice sang out of the energy amps, “I’m waiting for you…to touch me.” A voyeur broadcast the dance and music across the Media, much to the couple’s delight.
Sean steered clear of the area. He didn’t need his thoughts and conversation put to music. His emotions were charged and a minstrel would detect the agitation through his respiration and heart rate. It was similar to the tech he had used to monitor Sara last night, only without the musical accompaniment, though part of him admitted he would like to have a read on her emotions.
Phoebe put her arms around his neck, and they fell into a rhythm with the music. “If docking her is your idea of controlling her then you’re not as smart as I thought.”
Sean narrowed his eyes and said out loud, “Don’t assume anything.”
“And, don’t speak out loud!” Her grip on his shoulder tightened, and he felt the bite of her nails through his shirt.
“I’m not docking her.”
“That’s even worse. I could accept your sexual attraction to her, but from the way you’re acting, I believe you’re heading into an emotional fallacy. This behavior isn’t like you. I’ve studied all of your training, your anti-social and anti-Embassy attitudes, and I vouched for you personally. You had no interest in the Socialite scene, but now you’d let some Embassy bitch play you for a fool because she makes your pants a little tighter? Eliminate her. Make it look like an accident.”
Sean crushed Phoebe’s hand and grabbed the back of her neck to force her ear to his mouth. “You may have watched some vids and read some reports about me, but you have no idea who I am. And, I don’t know you. There are very few people in this system I trust. You’re not one of them.”
