CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“She had a dream about the King of
he gave her things that she was needin'.
“He gave her a home made of gold and steel…
a diamond car with a platinum wheel.”
- Cab Calloway
Vaerth Parihn had been to
Dionysus II many times before.
She hated this place, and had feared it would be where Aedra's trail
would lead. She had steeled herself for it with every ounce of determination
and will she could muster; but she was barely keeping it together in spite of
that.
Now, she listened with
growing unease as her friends made plans to assist in that which she felt was her responsibility, and was sick at
heart. Even aside from her own discomfort and embarrassment at their presence,
Parihn didn't want them here, both
because of the peril they'd face...
...and because of what they
were soon to see.
Now, they gathered about
the mission ops table in the passenger compartment, and laid their plans.
“Wandering aimlessly while
searching for a single Orion animal woman doesn't seem like a stratagem that
will bring down prey,” purred Hatshepsut.
“No wandering,” Xorc
replied, with his usual economy of speech. “Fortress... plans... in and out.”
The Felisian pressed, “Are
we certain the intelligence is still applicable?”
Xorc let loose with what
the others assumed was a laugh. It sounded more like the huffing of a man
lifting far too much weight.
“No... not certain... no guarantees, little cat.”
“Do you know how Jerrell
came by it?” asked Parihn.
The great Kaylar nodded,
but at first didn't elaborate.
Gently, she prodded, “Well,
Xorc? From whom did he get it, and using what method? It may help us judge how
up-to-date and reliable this data is.”
Xorc told them... and
avoided Parihn's eyes while so doing.
“Architect's daughter…
computer expert... prepares security protocols for his files. Jerrell is
beautiful; she is not. He and she...”
His voice trailed off, and he made a brief hand gesture that neither Mantovanni
nor Hatshepsut immediately recognized...
…but that Parihn did.
She felt the flush of
embarrassment, and anger turned inward.
“How he came by it,” she thought. Oh, that's just perfect, Parihn… beautifully done. You just pushed poor Xorc into mentioning that the man who
acquired the information is handsome, charismatic, and skilled enough in bed to
make a girl betray her father…
…and it's the same man everyone knows was
with you a few nights ago.
No wonder he didn't want to say: Yet another woman Jerrell's
had... and that time, she paid him.
That's what I get for pushing you, Xorc.
“Well, that's one method of getting your way. I
suppose we may assume the information is accurate?” Mantovanni inquired, the
barest hint of something other than
business in his tone. He didn't direct the question precisely at Parihn, but it was obviously not aimed at either of
the other two.
She, thus, was the default
target.
Hatshepsut chirruped once,
clearly discomfited for them both. Even Xorc shuffled his feet, like an
enormous child.
Carefully, Parihn replied,
“I think that if such was their agreement, and she gave him the schematics,
they're probably something we can accept as valid.”
Mantovanni nodded stiffly.
The Orion was thankful he
said nothing more on the subject, instead huddling with Xorc over their best
approach to the harim, where Aedra
would be sequestered… but could feel his anger and pain radiating like a
pulsar. She risked a glance; his profile was rigid, brittle—almost as if the
wrong note, or word, could shatter him.
She wasn't angry at what
he’d said.
If anything, she felt for
him more.
I’m sure that's precisely what any man
wants to hear—that a woman for whom he cares has just spent a night being
efficiently laid by another man.
But he couldn't, unless she told him
what had happened...
…and until now, she'd been afraid to
try.
There was no evading the confrontation,
Parihn knew. Neither could function like this for long, and they'd have to work
together—to trust each other—if they
were to have any chance of saving Aedra. While she comprehended he was the
consummate officer in many ways, this had clearly shaken him… and she wasn't
doing too well herself. The
sheer immediacy of the way in which
her recent actions had been revealed was agonizing.
She
hadn't been deceiving Hatshepsut, or herself, with her assertion of eventual
disclosure. But a future intent to discuss sex you'd had two months before,
which was when she'd planned to see
Cicero again, was far different than broaching the subject two days after it had occurred—especially
when you'd ended up seeing the man you cared about only 45 minutes after the
other one had still been inside you.
Parihn had considered for
hours what she wanted to say, but inspiration was elusive: After all, what
words could serve to make him truly understand, in the face of being so
graphically, painfully confronted with her illicit liaison?
When she relinquished the helm to Xorc,
though, and found only Hatshepsut in the common compartment, she felt the
moment was upon her… and stepped towards the sleeping chamber.
“Not yet,” the Felisian abruptly
purred. “He needs more time.”
She didn't even break stride.
Parihn found him seated on the bunk, in
a position that denoted weariness… but connoted anguish. He dispelled it with
practiced facility, but she knew him too well, and for an instant had glimpsed
that same expression—the one that had nearly made her break down when first
seeing him again.
She actually came to attention.
“Permission to speak freely, sir… on
matters of a personal nature?”
He rolled his eyes, and replied with an
acid, “Parihn, you've been doing that with me, regardless of my inclination at any particular moment, for over
four years. Why should now be any
different?”
They both knew the answer to that, but
she took it as tacit leave to proceed.
“About what happened… I'm so–…”
He interrupted with a firm, “No.”
Parihn waited for the recriminations,
the wounded variant of, “How could
you?” she assumed was coming, and which she’d steeled herself to eventually
face.
Instead, he surprised her with, “An
apology is neither requested nor required.
“As
a matter of fact, I owe you one: I'm
sorry I asked you that insinuative little question out there; it was incredibly
unprofessional, entirely inappropriate, and I promise nothing of the sort will
ever happen again.”
His voice was careful, but it was not,
as she’d feared, the restraint of barely suppressed fury, or even pain.
Instead, it just sounded a little distant.
That, strangely enough, hurt worst of
all.
“Apology unconditionally accepted,” she
said softly.
He sighed.
“I was your commanding officer, Parihn…
and I am your friend. That, at least,
hasn't changed. You aren't answerable to me in how your conduct your af–… personal relationships.
“Your life is your own… and I wish you
as much happiness as I can.”
For a long moment she simply gaped at
him. Then, horrified, Parihn blurted, “What are you saying? I don't love that
man. I don't even like him!”
Then, she realized how that sounded, too, and tried to append
an explanation.
“You have to believe me… it wasn't what
it seems.”
Mantovanni arched a brow, reminding her
just how cutting the gesture could be when employed by a master.
“It seems
like you had a night of sex with someone—not
that it's any of my business.”
She felt the moment spiraling out of
control, but didn't see how to stop it.
Parihn conceded, “Yes, but… please… I want to tell you w-…”
“But I don't want to hear it,” Mantovanni countered. “Grant me that, at
least.”
If only he'd let me talk.
If only I had something I could say.
Still, she tried again.
“I needed in–…”
He snapped, “I'm certain I don’t want to hear about this man giving you what you ‘needed,’ woman.”
Parihn gasped; her hand went to her
mouth.
Mantovanni saw the reaction, and
clenched his jaw, clearly angry he'd made another such comment moments after
swearing he wouldn't.
But he had.
“Excuse me. I know that doesn't
help.”
She felt herself withdrawing towards
the door. It opened, and she backed through it.
Before it closed, though, she
whispered, “No.
“It doesn’t.”
Hatshepsut awaited Parihn's reemergence
with her usual feline serenity. It was accompanied by a certainty the
conversation that was taking place within would not go well. She prepared to try and persuade the younger woman
into a dialogue. While she wasn't the type of counselor to push her presence or
advice onto those reluctant to heed, there were exceptions to that policy…
…and, a moment later, when she saw
Vaerth Parihn's face, M'Raav knew this would, eventually, have to be one of
them.
The Orion sat down heavily, and
immediately busied herself with some of the schematics provided by Xorc; at
least, it might have appeared so to a casual observer. Hatshepsut was certain,
though, that while her gaze might be directed at the screen, Parihn was seeing
something very different in her mind's eye.
You're clearly distraught, my friend… but not quite ready to talk, either,
are you? thought the Felisian, purring sympathetically.
Soon, though… very soon, unless I miss my guess…
…you will be.
Chapter Twenty-One Interlude Three