lipstick. Berry Berry Delicious, if you want the name. It’s really
quite a becoming shade on you.”
“I don’t like
this, Xris,” said Harry Luck grimly. “I don’t like it one damn bit.”
“I don’t much like
it myself, Harry, but this is Darlene’s plan and it’s her decision and, all
things considered, I think it’s the best we can do—aside from you sitting
outside her door day and night with a beam rifle across your knees, of course.”
“And maybe that’s
what we should do,” Harry argued stubbornly. “Not let her go traipsing around
the universe with Mr. Berry Berry Delicious here—”
Raoul was
affronted. He smoothed his hair and regarded Harry with an icy, if somewhat
unfocused, stare.
“The Little One
and I pledge ourselves by all that Adonians hold sacred—”
“Condoms, lip
gloss, and styling mousse,” Quong whispered in a loud aside to Jamil.
Raoul’s lashes
fluttered, but he carried on. “—to keep Darlene Rowan safe and sound, and I
will hold myself bound by that pledge and the Little One will hold himself
bound—”
“All that binding,
sounds like an Adonian party to me,” Jamil said, nudging Quong.
“This is not
funny!” Harry shouted angrily. “Harry, listen—” Xris began.
“Indeed it is not,”
Raoul said, his lip quivering, his cheeks flushed crimson. “If you are
impugning our abilities, Harry Luck—”
“I’m not . . .
whatever that word is . . . anything.” Harry slammed his hand on the table,
rattling the water pitchers. “I’m just saying that I don’t think it’s a good
idea to send Darlene off with a poisoner and a telepath when the odds are that
some top-notch death squad is after her.”
“You are impugning our abilities!” Raoul returned, highly indignant. “I promise that we
will look after Darlene most assiduously!” He caught hold of the Little One,
who, at the torrent of conflicting emotions surging about the room, was
endeavoring to hide from them by crawling under the table. “And,” Raoul added
magnanimously, “I will do something about her hair at the same time.”
This pronouncement
broke up the meeting. Harry clenched his fists and kicked over his chair. Jamil
lay sprawled on the table, helpless with laughter. Tycho fumbled with his
translator, trying to find out what Darlene was doing with rabbits. Quong
offered to check Harry’s testosterone level. Raoul sniffed and held himself
aloof while the Little One tangled himself up in the tablecloth.
“Shut up,” Xris
said. “All of you.”
The words snapped.
Xris had the feeling he might snap next.
“Harry, sit down.
Raoul, get the Little One out from under there. Tycho, recalibrate that damn
translator. No one said anything about rabbits.”
Jamil raised an
eyebrow, exchanged glances with Quong. Harry, his choleric face splotched with
patches of white, mumbled something, returned to his seat. Raoul dragged the
Little One out from under the table, adding the loudly whispered admonishment
that he had better behave because Xris Cyborg was in a bad mood.
“Damn right I’m in
a bad mood,” Xris said. Taking out the golden case which held the twists, he
tapped the case on the table. “This is all my fault. I screwed up. I was
stupid. Careless. I had no idea the bureau was tailing me. They’ve probably
been at it for weeks now. Amadi showed himself because he needed to talk to me.
If Amadi had been the Hung, I’d have led them right to Darlene. Maybe I already
have. I don’t know.”
He tapped the case
on the table, frowned down at it.
Jamil shifted
uneasily in his chair, an expression of disapproval on his face. He was
ex-military, an officer. Superiors weren’t supposed to admit to making
mistakes, weren’t supposed to show weakness.
Harry Luck, big,
brawny, with as much muscles in his head as his arms, kept quiet. Xris would
have to explain this plan several times to Harry and even then the big man
might not catch on. Thoughts dropped down into his mind like
quite a becoming shade on you.”
“I don’t like
this, Xris,” said Harry Luck grimly. “I don’t like it one damn bit.”
“I don’t much like
it myself, Harry, but this is Darlene’s plan and it’s her decision and, all
things considered, I think it’s the best we can do—aside from you sitting
outside her door day and night with a beam rifle across your knees, of course.”
“And maybe that’s
what we should do,” Harry argued stubbornly. “Not let her go traipsing around
the universe with Mr. Berry Berry Delicious here—”
Raoul was
affronted. He smoothed his hair and regarded Harry with an icy, if somewhat
unfocused, stare.
“The Little One
and I pledge ourselves by all that Adonians hold sacred—”
“Condoms, lip
gloss, and styling mousse,” Quong whispered in a loud aside to Jamil.
Raoul’s lashes
fluttered, but he carried on. “—to keep Darlene Rowan safe and sound, and I
will hold myself bound by that pledge and the Little One will hold himself
bound—”
“All that binding,
sounds like an Adonian party to me,” Jamil said, nudging Quong.
“This is not
funny!” Harry shouted angrily. “Harry, listen—” Xris began.
“Indeed it is not,”
Raoul said, his lip quivering, his cheeks flushed crimson. “If you are
impugning our abilities, Harry Luck—”
“I’m not . . .
whatever that word is . . . anything.” Harry slammed his hand on the table,
rattling the water pitchers. “I’m just saying that I don’t think it’s a good
idea to send Darlene off with a poisoner and a telepath when the odds are that
some top-notch death squad is after her.”
“You are impugning our abilities!” Raoul returned, highly indignant. “I promise that we
will look after Darlene most assiduously!” He caught hold of the Little One,
who, at the torrent of conflicting emotions surging about the room, was
endeavoring to hide from them by crawling under the table. “And,” Raoul added
magnanimously, “I will do something about her hair at the same time.”
This pronouncement
broke up the meeting. Harry clenched his fists and kicked over his chair. Jamil
lay sprawled on the table, helpless with laughter. Tycho fumbled with his
translator, trying to find out what Darlene was doing with rabbits. Quong
offered to check Harry’s testosterone level. Raoul sniffed and held himself
aloof while the Little One tangled himself up in the tablecloth.
“Shut up,” Xris
said. “All of you.”
The words snapped.
Xris had the feeling he might snap next.
“Harry, sit down.
Raoul, get the Little One out from under there. Tycho, recalibrate that damn
translator. No one said anything about rabbits.”
Jamil raised an
eyebrow, exchanged glances with Quong. Harry, his choleric face splotched with
patches of white, mumbled something, returned to his seat. Raoul dragged the
Little One out from under the table, adding the loudly whispered admonishment
that he had better behave because Xris Cyborg was in a bad mood.
“Damn right I’m in
a bad mood,” Xris said. Taking out the golden case which held the twists, he
tapped the case on the table. “This is all my fault. I screwed up. I was
stupid. Careless. I had no idea the bureau was tailing me. They’ve probably
been at it for weeks now. Amadi showed himself because he needed to talk to me.
If Amadi had been the Hung, I’d have led them right to Darlene. Maybe I already
have. I don’t know.”
He tapped the case
on the table, frowned down at it.
Jamil shifted
uneasily in his chair, an expression of disapproval on his face. He was
ex-military, an officer. Superiors weren’t supposed to admit to making
mistakes, weren’t supposed to show weakness.
Harry Luck, big,
brawny, with as much muscles in his head as his arms, kept quiet. Xris would
have to explain this plan several times to Harry and even then the big man
might not catch on. Thoughts dropped down into his mind like
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