“I don’t want to know,” he says.
That wounds me because it symbolizes how he prefers distance when he used to crave closeness. I guess I should be careful what I wish for because I remember wanting him to leave me alone. That was a long time ago, but my wish has been granted.
Time to go. Time to stop thinking about things I can’t change right now. We leave Vel’s quarters and head off the ship. The spaceport is quiet, no other ships in dock. Not surprising considering how xenophobic they are here. If they have any new vessels, they’re hidden. They probably don’t want us checking out their technology until we have hammered out this deal. And I don’t blame them. It’s also possible that these antiques on display are all they have.
Vel finds us a private car to take us back to council quarters. This time I pay more attention to the view out my window. The vehicle is closed, totally automated. We pass through the maintenance tunnels once more, and I gaze out the glastique panels on either side, admiring Ithiss-Tor at night. This place has a haunting loveliness. The constellations gleam bright as diamonds, and they’re arranged in alien formations.
A light snow has begun to fall, dusting the world in white lace. Their buildings are tall, interconnected with a warren of tunnels and enclosed bridges. Nobody travels on the surface here. The architecture here reminds me of nothing so much as an insect hive. I’ve seen similar structures built by wasps and bees, but the Ithtorians construct their homes from titanium and steel instead of earth.
I remain intrigued by the apparent contradiction between their architecture and the way they design the interiors of their structures. Am I to assume that the Ithtorians present a hard carapace to the world but in truth they are softhearted? I don’t think I can use Vel as my example in this case; he is no longer typical of his people, if he ever was. Since he chose to leave his home, I think that he was not.
Nobody speaks as the car purrs along, coming up from the tunnels into the station that adjoins the government center. It apparently knows it can take us no farther because it stops and offers a basic “thank you, have a nice day” sort of sound. Vel, March, and I climb up, heading up the ramp into the foyer.
With Vel to guide us, we pass much more quickly through the government warren into the housing annex. When we reach the council quarters, there is only a single guard on duty. To my vast pleasure, I understand what Vel says to him, but I keep my expression blank. It will completely devalue my advantage if they realize what I’ve done. Not to mention spoiling any possibility of an alliance.
“We needed to retrieve something from the ship,” Vel explains.
The guard answers, “Was there any trouble in the square? The council was concerned about the ambassador.”
“As you can see, she is well except for a minor scratch, but she, too, has concerns about the candor of the council. She will discuss them tomorrow at the summit. For now, we are all weary and would seek our rest.”
March seems remarkably calm about not knowing what’s going on. It must be the drugs. He just waits patiently for Vel to conclude his business. The guard waves us in.
To show that I know something of their culture, I fold my arms flat against my body, hands tucked beneath my forearms and execute a tight bow. A wa, one of the councilmen called it. I read astonishment in the clicking of the guard’s mandible, but he returns the courtesy
Maybe I should talk to March, but I can’t tonight. I need to get some sleep before the summit. His room adjoins mine, but he has his own entrance. So I part from him in the hallway, and we go our separate ways.
I hope it’s not symbolic.
CHAPTER 9
Vel escorts me into my suite.
I don’t know if he’s concerned about my welfare or if he just wants to make sure I stay put this time. That idea makes me smile faintly.
“Wa is the bow made in greeting and parting?” I ask as we go into the living area.
“Correct,” he tells me. “I will go over all the nuances at another time. For now, I will bid you good night, Sirantha. If you have need of me, you know how to reach me.” That’s a very mild rebuke, based on what could have happened if he hadn’t turned up in such timely fashion. I acknowledge that with a nod. Vel executes a neat wa before he goes, and I practice mine as well.
Constance waits politely for us to finish our conversation. “There is a break in the surface of your face,” she observes. “Do you require treatment?”
I shake my head. “I’ve already seen Doc. If he’d thought it needed attention, he would have done something about it.”
She accepts this. “Have I displeased you in some fashion, Sirantha Jax? I understood I was to assist you under all circumstances.”
Oh man. It’s too late for me to want to reassure an android who, not too long ago, could be tucked into my pocket or snapped shut when I didn’t want to deal with her. When Dina installed her in the Pretty Robotics frame, it enhanced the type of tasks my PA could perform, but it also makes her harder to ignore.
I say, “No, of course not. I didn’t expect to be gone so long. Don’t worry, you’ll see plenty of work tomorrow.”
“Very well.”
That’s the primary difference between her and a human being. She doesn’t look for subtext; she doesn’t second-guess me or wonder about my motives. While I get ready for bed, she jacks into the terminal to recharge. I’m glad my bed is in another room. I don’t mind sharing space with her, but it might be a little weird trying to drift off with her sitting motionless in sleep mode.