Chapter Three

 

Back on set, Valeria is doing touchups to the work she started in the van. She’s made me look like I spent the night on a featherbed instead of in a tree. I could get used to having a stylist, no?

“Here.” Tawny opens a drink can. She pulls a package of teal straws out of her bag and drops one through the hole, because she doesn’t want me to touch the rim. “It’s an electrolyte drink to help you recover.”

“Gracias.” I take a sip. It’s pleasantly citrusy.

I look over at Mertex, who is hovering like a mother hen. I ask him if he knows anything about the reef-ship I saw. I’m hoping he’s going to say, What reef ship? and then I can tell everyone about my discovery.

He shrugs. “It crashed here eight or ten years ago. The people on board were Evevronian criminals, and their government wanted them back. They were eventually captured and taken home, but nobody wanted to pay to move the ship, and us kids were already making dive trips out to it, so they just left it.”

“People survived that crash?” I ask. Dios mio! “Then why hasn’t anything been salvaged out of it?”

Mertex shudders. “It’s a phkhekk fiekksk.”

Plague ship? Bad luck?

Before I can ask, the same uniformed soldiers who had met us at the spaceport troop in… including the muchacho who knocked me out. I sit up straighter, leaning back so fast I bonk Valeria in the nose.

“Ow!”

“Lo siento!”

She waves me away as I try to look at the injury.

One of the Zantites leans forward in an awkward bow. He has a squarer, more defined jaw, and his eyes are oversized for his face. “I’m Dghax, head of the local police. I apologize thoroughly that I failed to introduce myself yesterday. It didn’t seem necessary for an honor guard.”

So they’re police officers, not soldiers, though the uniforms are quite similar.

Somehow that makes what Dent Head did to me seem even more irresponsible. I make eye contact with him, and he looks away, a bit of green coming into his cheeks. He wasn’t so fuzzfaced that he doesn’t remember.

I look back at Dghax. “I wish to belatedly say I was pleased to make an initial impression of you.”

“Me too.”

It’s an informal response. What does that say about the policeman? Or my situation?

Mertex, who had been speaking softly to one of the uniform guys, steps over to me, rests a gigantesco hand on my shoulder. “Since your disappearance was reported to the police…” Mertex glances at Tawny, unable to completely hide his distaste, “they are here to collect a statement.”

I’ve seen enough Zandywood holos to know that you don’t report things to the police unless you’re hoping to get someone executed. Does Tawny not know that? Or does she just not care?

They’re considering whether what Dent Head did was an abduction. He can’t exactly claim it wasn’t.

I lean in towards Murry and ask, “What’s the penalty for kidnapping here?”

“If the victim was put in physical danger – as Tawny is insisting happened – it could be death. Or maybe just assignment to a warship.” Which is a life sentence.

Tawny’s not likely to let it go, or laugh it off as a prank.

I’ve said so much to Tawny about how horrible it is to lie. Pero, this time, if I tell the truth, my abductor might not leave this room. Who’d have to kill him? On the warship, that honor had gone to the highest-ranking officer. Dghax seems to be in charge here, so it will probably be him.

Dent Head swallows visibly and goes a bit greener. His hands ball into fists at his sides. And yet, he’s not trying to escape this. There’s a hint of hero to him after all.

Dghax holds out a voice recorder. “Did you see the face of or speak with your abductor?”

I look up at Mertex, who is encouraging me to speak the truth, even though he can’t know that it will implicate his rival or enemy or whatever Dent Head is to him. I look over at Dent Head, who has flattened his rubbery lips with resolve. He takes a step forward, about to confess.

My heart lurches, as I picture his neck meeting Dghax’s teeth. I don’t want to see Dent Head die for one drunken mistake.

“No!” I say, mostly to him. Pero, I smile at Dghax and repeat more calmly. “No y no. I remember being on the path, then I remember being in the tree.”

“Are you certain? That seems to contradict the statement given by Mr Cray last night.”

I shrug. “Earthlings go into shock very easily. We tend to block out things we’d rather forget.”

“Sí,” Valeria says. Her eyes are round and she’s backed up against the mirror. Pero, she seems to be doing better than last time she was surrounded by Zantites in uniforms. She gestures at Mertex. “They say I fainted yesterday at the spaceport. But I don’t really remember.”

Dghax puts his recording device away. “If you do remember anything, please let us know.”

He and his men troop out. Dent Head gives me one last amazfused look, and this time Mertex catches it and arches one questioning non-eyebrow at me.

“Later.” I’m still freaked because I just had Dent Head’s life in my hands. It’s a feo, feo feeling. Not a power I’d ever want. I’d been where he was – slated for execution over something blown out of all proportion.

“That’s right.” Tawny moves closer, missing or ignoring the subtext between me and Mertex as she examines my makeup. “We’ve kept our sponsor waiting long enough.”

I was hoping for a minute to talk to Brill, who is sitting in one of the other beauticians’ chairs, trying to stifle a yawn. His eyes are gold with love, pero they’re more slypered than I’ve ever seen them. He was up all night, looking for me, and that makes me feel all soft and warm in my chest. Tawny follows my gaze.

She starts to say something, thinks better of it, then tilts her cabeza and smiles at Brill. There’s something predatory in her eyes as she looks at him. I manage not to make a noise as I suck in a startled breath. I recognize that look, from about a million telenovelas, when the obligatory other woman enters the scene.

It’s hard to believe, though. Could Tawny really have designs on my boyfriend?

“Don’t keep my girl busy too long,” Brill tells her.

Tawny’s expression changes, pero I can’t read it.

Brill walks over to me. I put a hand on his chest, sliding it between his leather jacket and his tee, feeling estúpido for being so demonstrably possessive as his Krom heart beats like a hummingbird against my palm. Pero, Tawny needs to be clear that Brill’s off limits.

 

Tawny holds my hand, squeezing a little too tight the whole way down the hall to Minda’s dressing room.

“I need you on your best behavior, Bo.” Tawny gives me a plastinique smile. “Earth can’t afford you pulling any more stunts.”

She means HGB can’t afford another scandal. Their monopoly on chocolate is partially dependent on the good graces of the Global Court of Earth – and part on public opinion and the trust of the people. They’ve already lost enough of that, over the years, to make a lot of people question whether HGB really is the best solution for Earth’s future. Everyone thought that the debacle a few months ago with one of HGB’s pilots was going to be enough to tip Earth into another global war.

Pero, what does Tawny think I’m going to do? She doesn’t even know that I know about Serum Green – Frank promised that much, when I agreed to keep it secret. And if I make Earth look bad – well, then what was the point of coming here?

“Have I been anything but cooperative?” I ask.

Tawny puts a hand on the door. “Bodacious–”

From the other side, something explodes, then someone coughs repeatedly. Tawny and I look at each other. Then we barge in.

Minda’s standing next to a portable oven, waving smoke away. She’s wearing an apron with a print of pink fruit, over a tight black outfit. Cake batter is streaming down her giant yellow face.

“One of you get me a towel.” She holds out a huge slender-fingered hand without even looking to see who we are and whether we’ve agreed.

There’s a basket with a dozen small white towels rolled up inside a glass-fronted cabinet. I pull one out and give it to Minda. She dabs at her face. “How can cake be liquid inside, when outside it’s charcoal?”

“What did you put in that?” I ask.

“Bo! You’re here to save me.” She turns around and breaks into a wide smile, showing the heavily serrated edges on her teeth. Tawny doesn’t flinch, even when Minda moves towards us to wrap me in a hug.

Minda pats my hair. “I am hopeless in the kitchen and we’re streaming out our first episode live tomorrow. I’m counting on you to make me look good.”

Que? I want to end this whole adventure as a culinary arts teacher, pero I was not prepared for a Minda-level student. “Minda, por favor!”

“You can do this,” Minda says. “I don’t care what the polls say.”

Tawny’s posture stiffens. “I have counseled Bo not to look at the polls. Reminders that people find her… problematic will only make her nervous.”

Problematic. That’s an understatement. People are still saying they think I deserve the shave for selling out Earth for a couple of chocolate beans.

“You’re always going to have detractors,” Minda says. “If you go around doing the things that other people are afraid to do, you will be slandered. If you try to change from the person people thought you were into something better, people will make up lies so that they still get to feel superior. This isn’t a maybe for those of us in the public eye. It is what will happen.”

“Not to you.” I study her gigantic face, literally larger than life. “You have a grande fan base, and nobody dares buzzbash you, even in my planet’s media. You have the power to change things, because people listen to you. Which is why it is estúpido that I’m here. This should be you and mi mamá.”

“You think I’ve never been lied about? Or that I’ve always been popular? The only way that you get to grow up to become me is by refusing to care.” Minda gestures with the towel. “You’re here because everyone loves an underdog. And because you’re the one who made your life forfeit to do the impossible already. Do you imagine your mother would have done the same in your place?”

Probably not. “Mamá would have done something smarter.”

Tawny snorts a laugh. “Tell me about it.”

Mi mamá is Mamá Lavonda, one of Earth’s most popular celebrity chefs at a time when foodies are bigger than rock stars. She’s also a cookbook author, and occasionally teaches classes. Mamá’s entire career was financed by HGB, who sponsors her feeds. She provides positive publicity for them on Earth, and encourages people from other planets to give Earth-produced exports a try.

Basically, she gets the ratings HGB is looking for, and they let her do whatever she wants. Which doesn’t mean that she’s not incredibly talented, as a chef and at making captivating footage.

I call Mamá for help. Things are still not easy between us. She has never apologized for not supporting me when the media shredded my holostar career. Still, if I make her feel needed here, that will make her happy. And despite my past hurt, I want her to be happy.

After I’ve explained my Minda problem, she says, Set up the kitchen and holocall back. Then we will do a rehearsal, like it is a scripted show.

We pair up the holofields so that it looks like Mamá’s kitchen is the other half of our set kitchen, obscuring the audience bleachers. Only Mamá’s not at home. The space looks suspiciously like a ship’s galley.

I hear a masculine voice in the background. Frank Sawyer. Blegh.

Mamá rarely goes offplanet, and when she does, it’s for a FeedCast big enough that I’d have heard about it. Is she going somewhere now? With the same Frank who forced me at gunpoint to keep another one of HGB’s secrets?

Frank’s the HGB agent who tried to stop me from taking cacao offplanet. He’s shot at me before, killed a man right in front of me for trying to protect me.

Pero, he is also the one who leaked the holo that helped me escape having mi cabeza detached from my shoulders.

Frank’s still Mamá’s boyfriend. Anyone else would have thrown Frank out the minute she found out he was the HGB assassin who killed mi Papá, el amor de Mamá’s vida, the love of her life. Or that Frank fell in love with her afterwards because HGB tasked him with watching our family.

Pero, not mi mamá. No y no. She is, after all, Mamá Lavonda. Whatever Mamá wants, Mamá gets. Currently, that includes Frank.

 

After the run-through, I go looking for Brill. He’s not waiting for me on set, so I call him. There’s hysterical laughter in the background. “Babe! We’re on my ship. Jimena made the worst snacks. Avell, come help!”

I feel a little left out, pero, what did I expect him to do, sit around all night? Mertex, who is waiting sleepily just outside, sees me looking flustered.

“Want a ride over there?”

“Please.” I follow him to his vehicle, a blocky silver hatch-back with six tires. He looks more relaxed behind the wheel than he ever was on board the warship, where he came across as nervous and petulant. This place suits him.

“Ever think you’d be friends with the biggest star in Zandywood?” Mertex asks.

I stifle a laugh. “Weren’t you the one who once told me that term is both inaccurate and insulting to the Noble Race?” Meaning the Zantites.

He leans his arm on the window frame. “Minda says Zandywood. She keeps telling me to lighten up.”

When we get to the Fois Gras, Brill has turned the bridge of his ship into a theater, using the oversized nav and representational viewing screens and attendant holofields. The screens can become clear, providing windows across the bow. It’s an incredibly flexible design, and part of the upgrade HGB gave Brill’s ship in exchange for bringing us here. They also sprang for deluxe chairs at Brill’s table to replace the old ring bench since Tawny’s back can’t handle “primitive” seating.

Valeria and Jimena are sitting on the sofa, and some of Brill’s friends are playing Varan at the table. There’s a thin-lipped guy I’ve never seen before trying to talk to Jimena, pero he’s not getting very far. They’re all watching a Spanish language cheesecast with Krom subtitles.

Brill gives me a hug. “I was telling Valeria about how I got un poco addicted to telenovelas trying to learn Spanish, and it turns out we both like this show, and some of my friends were in the area, and hest, instant party.”

I look at Valeria, who notices me looking and seems a bit embarrassed. I’m filled with wonder. Brill’s won her over, at least a little.

The guy Jimena’s been talking to heads for the bathroom, and Jimena asks Brill, “Who is that guy?”

“Commodities broker,” Brill says. He means fence.

“Qué lástima. I was hoping he was somebody famous.” Jimena straightens her gauzy floral blouse and crosses legs clad in lime green leggings. She doesn’t seem to own anything in neutral colors. “I thought you would party with a higher class of people.”

“I should be getting back,” Mertex says. Pero, the way he’s been shadowing me, that probably means he’s planning to wait in his car.

“Ga, su. Stay.” Brill gestures to the table. “These sus could use one more, since I’m done playing. Ever tried Varan?”

Mertex shakes his cabeza, pero he starts watching the game.

“Careful, Murry,” I say. “Varan against three Krom? You’ll lose fast.”

“Ven?” one of Brill’s friends says. So what? “Krom don’t gamble, so what’s he out but time?”

“If you’re sure it’s OK?” Mertex looks ridiculously oversized perched on a vacant chair. Pero, nobody laughs as they start explaining the rules. I don’t think he ever got invited to this kind of thing back aboard the Layla’s Pride. He looks so happy right now he might pop.

Together Brill and I head towards the galley, where they’ve broken out the booze. There’s a tray of something wrapped inside biscuit dough on the counter. I start to reach for it, pero Brill says, “I wouldn’t, Babe.”

“Que?” I pick one up and break it in half and smell it. Puaf! No lo sé what Jimena was thinking, pero you don’t mix bleu cheese and plef. Whatever the last kitchen she worked in was, it must have been muy experimental.

I yawn. It’s late. Pero, I’ve earned a Tawny-free good time. “Don’t worry, mi Vida. I can fix this.”