Warp World by Kristene Perron, Joshua Simpson Page A

at night.
    It never really gets dark here , he mused. Not as it does on Ama’s world. That enveloping blackness.
    When he looked back to his door, he saw Manatu standing there, clutching a small bag. He supposed he should have expected this when Manatu had climbed into the trans.
    He considered asking his bodyguard if he planned to stay here, in his residence, but he already knew the answer. Palm pressed to the plate on the door’s surface, Seg waited for the scan to finish and the door to open.
    “There is only one bed,” Seg said.
    “Floor is fine,” Manatu said, as if that fact should have been obvious.
    When the door cycled open, Manatu stepped in front of Seg and motioned with a splayed hand for him to wait. A moment later, he waved him in. Seg closed his eyes, took a deep breath, (which still pained him), and wondered how long he could tolerate this behavior.
    There was a sound of shuffling as Seg stepped inside, then Lissil appeared in the tiny entrance area. She didn’t look directly into Seg’s eyes, but her face was raised enough that he could see the beginnings of what might have been tears.
    Lissil lowered into the retyel without the production of their first meeting, as if she sensed his desire for quiet. Even so, her body did not drop to the floor so much as float, a leaf carried on a breeze.
    Seg peered down at her prostrate form, thankful Ama was not present.
    “Stand up,” he said. Lissil lifted her eyes to his, questioning, then slowly rose from the floor.
    “Lord Eraranat? Are you displeased? Have I …” Her voice broke and her eyes watered.
    “Did Jarin not explain the situation to you?” He sighed. “You are registered as caj but your position here is one of employment—household services in exchange for food, shelter, clothing, and other necessities. Understood?”
    Lissil bowed her head and lowered her eyes. “Yes, my Lord.”
    “And you can address me as Seg.”
    “But that is too informal! This caj would never dare to—”
    “ Theorist if you like, then. But no retyel, at least not inside these walls when there is not company present.”
    Lissil’s eyes flicked to Manatu and Seg glanced over his shoulder.
    “Manatu will be living here.”
    “Theorist.” Lissil tried out the new title with some hesitation. “This caj has prepared your home as well as she knows how. She is here for your needs. Would you take your rest awhile?”
    “Yes,” Seg said. “Yes, I would. You can get Manatu a drink. Or food, if he wishes. And you can stop referring to yourself in the third person.” At Lissil’s puzzled expression he shook his head. “Never mind. Go on.”
    As eager as he had been to leave the medfac, his body was already demanding the comfort of a bed. The healing grid he wore across the lower half of his torso accelerated his recovery, but it would be at least another week before he would feel strong again.
    A few paces and he stood in the area that constituted his common room. The room was attached to the food preparatory, though there was no discernible boundary between the two spaces. The only other rooms in his residence were his sleeping quarters—which also functioned as a study—and the cleansing room.
    Seg made his way to the wall and pulled down a recessed lever. A rectangle on the wall fell open, revealing a bench, cushioned top and bottom. This was what functioned as a couch. Another lever unfolded a cushioned chair, in which he sat, heavily. He leaned back and ran his hands over his face, then exhaled.
    Manatu, who filled a good portion of the small room, walked slowly from wall to wall, surveying.
    “There’s nothing here to see.” Seg waved a tired hand. “This is a graduate residence. Luxuriously spacious but rather sparse.” To the wall across from him he said, “Activate Storm notice.” The wall lit up and a screen flickered to life. A map of Cathind and its outlying areas appeared, with red icons marking the Storm and orange icons marking its