35

The sense of despair was hardly an unknown companion as Miguel Galluzzi ambled his way down the main avenue. After parting with Benj, he’d taken the opportunity to stroll the length and breadth of Port Authority. Not that there was a whole lot of either before running headlong into that impossible soaring conglomeration of fence.

This is the height of human achievement on Donovan? This miserable collection of disabled vehicles, ramshackle housing, junk, clotheslines, toys in the dirt, and makeshift warehouses?

His feet hurt. His back ached, and his limbs were tuckered from the gravity. The yawning sense of despair just wouldn’t turn loose from him.

Didn’t matter that people had been friendly, had greeted him with a smile, and almost to the last, had introduced themselves. Hadn’t even recoiled when he told them who he was. All had been most cordial—a fact that surprised him given that even the women had been armed.

Galluzzi had never been too taken with airs, but the fact remained: He was a captain. Here, even the children treated him with a most unsettling familiarity. What irked was that he was not one of them. Never would be.

Nevertheless, he’d been polite, done his best not to offend. After all, it was their town. Their world and ways. Not to mention that good manners seemed particularly prudent when talking to an armed man or woman—even if they were of menial status.

Glancing up at the clouding sky, Galluzzi sighed. How damn forlorn could a man be? He hadn’t expected much of Port Authority. What he’d discovered, however, made him want to drop his head into his hands and weep.

He passed The Jewel. Considered entering, having not been in a casino since Macao some twenty years ago. But after laying eyes on the brown-haired man in a quetzal vest who was watching him from the doorway, he’d had second thoughts. Benj had already given him fair warning, and besides, after the glory, color, dash, and excitement of Macao, what depths of disappointment could a Port Authority casino plumb?

So he had forced his tired feet to carry him past, headed back . . . Where?

He stopped short in front of the admin dome, could see the hospital marking the south end of the avenue. Was about to turn and follow the side street to the shuttle field, when Shig Mosadek stepped out of the admin dome’s double doors.

The short Indian was clad in a quetzal-hide cloak, his embroidered fabrics looking rumpled. The man squinted at Galluzzi, then smiled and waved. He shot a look at the sky, and called, “Just a moment. I shall be right back.”

Then he vanished back inside for all of twenty seconds before emerging with a second hat and another of the quetzal-hide cloaks. These he presented to Galluzzi, saying, “I heard that you were in town, Captain. Forgive me for not finding you sooner. We had to work out a title dispute on a couple of claims out west. The previous owner was killed by a rogue quetzal we call Whitey. Old Mao had left his claim to Muley Mitchman but owed a gambling debt to The Jewel.”

Even as Shig spoke, a most remarkable blonde woman, tall, dressed in a suggestive form-fitting sheath crafted from some local fabric, emerged from the admin dome.

Galluzzi instinctively straightened, squared his shoulders, as he reminded himself not to stare. What the hell was wrong with him? Damn, he hadn’t been locked up in a ship for so long that he’d gape like a drooling idiot.

If the woman noticed, she didn’t let it show, but stepped up next to Shig, dwarfing the Indian as she fixed enchanting blue eyes on Miguel.

“Don’t let me interrupt,” she told him in a melodious voice.

“No interruption,” Shig told her. “In fact, I’d like to introduce Captain Miguel Galluzzi, master of the Ashanti. Captain, this is Allison Chomko, one of the partners in The Jewel.”

“My pleasure,” he told her, taking her offered hand. The touch sent an electric pulse through him. In that instant, he could have lost himself in her smile and those wondrous eyes. His heart began to hammer in his breast.

To Shig, the woman said, “Thanks for your help in there. I’ll give Dan the rundown. I think Muley is happy with the settlement. If not, we’ll work something out.”

“He’s young. If he can stay alive out there long enough, it could be the turning point for him. Mao had high hopes for that new diggings of his.”

Again she fixed that miracle-blue gaze on Miguel, adding, “My honor to meet you, Captain. Do come by. I’d find it a pleasure to buy you a drink, and you’ll find me a rapt audience if you’d be kind enough to share your experiences.”

“I . . . well, of course. I’d be delighted.” What in hell was it about her? She’d turned him into a stammering idiot.

He remained mesmerized as she gave him a radiant smile, turned, and strode away in a walk that hinted of almost feline grace. She seemed to float, the sway of her hips, the straight back, the way the light was shining in her . . .

Galluzzi blinked, tried to shake it off.

Shig, an amused smile on his lips, glanced up at the sky. “Might want to get indoors. This one’s going to come down hard. I don’t have Ali’s allure, but I’d stand you a drink. Perhaps we could talk about your plans. Have you a place to stay?”

“I, uh, assumed there would be Corporate housing somewhere around the shuttle port.”

“Ah, well, even when we were Corporate they never quite got around to such basic facilities as spacers’ quarters, let alone an officers’ lounge. As Dek has recently relocated to a dome of his own, you’d be more than welcome to use my study. My futon has a reputation for remarkable comfort. I’ve passed many a pleasant night on it myself.”

“I couldn’t—”

“Oh, no inconvenience. I assure you. It’s a separate building. I won’t even know you’re there.” Shig smiled. “Come. This hat and cloak are for you. By the time the night’s over, you’ll be thankful to have them.”

“Where to?”

“Inga’s of course. There really is no other place except the cafeteria, and though Millicent’s cooking is filling, it’s rather uninviting for extended conversation.”

Back to the tavern?

The first drops of rain began to fall as they made it to the tavern door. Galluzzi fingered the thick quetzal leather, amazed at the patterns of rainbow light that ran under his thumb. Had to be the crystalline scales on the hide.

Inside, and down the stairs, Shig led the way to the right side of the bar, propped himself up on one of the stools, and indicated the second from the end for Miguel, saying, “We keep that last one for Tal. Not that we’re much for status and ceremony around here, but she’s earned it the hard way.”

“That woman, Allison. She’s a partner in The Jewel? I mean, I’ve heard rather unsavory things about it.” He couldn’t shake the image of her. Figured she’d be haunting his dreams for a while.

“Owns forty-nine percent of The Jewel; and she’s branched out into various real estate, mining, and development ventures. Let’s just say that her start was a little rocky. Various tragedies left her ill-used and wounded. A fact that she realized and corrected. Once she took the bit in her teeth, she’s made a rather impressive turnaround.”

“I see.” Wasn’t the place also a brothel?

Shig lifted his hand in Inga’s direction, asking, “What will you have?”

“I would kill for a cup of coffee or hot chocolate.”

“Wouldn’t we all? The coffee trees are supposed to produce beans this year. Meanwhile, we have a variety of teas, all of which, to our horror, are herbal and without caffeine.”

“The amber ale was good.”

After Inga had taken the order, Shig asked, “So, what are your plans? How can we be of service here?”

Galluzzi turned, looked over his shoulder at the people trickling down the stairs and into the tavern, water shining on their cloaks. “I haven’t a clue.” He laughed. “It’s odd to admit, but I figured after what I’d done to the transportees—and if I ever lived long enough to make it here—I’d be arrested, tried, and executed.” A beat. “Looked forward to it, actually.”

“Might have happened that way, once upon a time,” Shig agreed. “Freelander, up there in orbit, however, has taught us all an interesting moral lesson: Sometimes the universe leaves us with nothing but bad decisions.”

“Sounds remarkably like situational ethics.”

“Welcome to Donovan.”