Severance reached into a small pouch on his utility belt and let bis fingers close around the fireberyl comb. The feel of it seemed to soothe the gnawing uncertainty that he knew was going to be a close companion during the long weeks ahead.
Chapter Twenty
QED looked different on this trip, Severance realized as he oversaw the unloading of the mail. The endless vistas of orange and red dust were as barren and forbidding as ever, but the sight of them no longer made his stomach tighten or caused his mind to beat at him in angry frustration.
Revenge was exactly what he had always suspected it would be: calming and satisfying. It hadn’t taken away the old pain or allowed him to forget his own sense of responsibility for what had happened to Jeude, but it had quieted him inside. The pain and the feeling of being partially responsible were things he had already learned to live with during the past two years. Time diluted the self-recriminations and would continue to do so. But exacting a measure of justice had eased him inside in a way that time would never have succeeded in doing. Racer’s death had paid not only for the threats to Cidra but also for Jeude’s death, and it had balanced some internal scale.
QED was never going to be his idea of the ideal vacation spot of the Stanza Nine system. The planet would always hold memories of the deaths of his parents and his brother. But Severance could view the raw, boomtown of Proof and the outlying orange hills with a sense of perspective now. It occurred to him that it wasn’t simply revenge that had enabled him to gain perspective. He had learned something from Cidra too. Her gentleness had also eased something inside him.
This was an ore and mineral-rich land. Companies and individuals were wresting fortunes out of the ground with the assistance of the ubiquitous spidersleds. Severance was obliged to step out of the way of one of the mobil metal monsters as he crossed the landing field to the port office. Its long, insectlike legs, so useful for covering rough terrain, narrowly missed his boot.
“Hey, up there,” he yelled to the man in the driver’s seat, “if you can’t operate that thing properly, someone’s going to show you how it’s done the hard way.”
“Don’t need any advice on how to do it the hard way,” the middle-aged ex-miner rasped. “I do it that way all the time. Back again, huh, Severance? Miss the local fun spots?”
“The only thing I’ve missed is taking your loose credit in a game of Free Market, Tanner.” Severance stopped beside the spidersled as the man halted it. “You interested in trying to take back some of what you lost last time I was in Port?”
“Sure, if we can use my cubes.” Tanner grinned hugely, his weathered face crinkling into a hundred creases.
“The day I let you use your cubes is the day I’ll be too spaced to play.”
“Don’t trust anyone, do you, Severance?” Tanner observed with mock admiration.
Severance thought about it. At one time his answer would have been a ready no. “Maybe one woman I know.”
“Severance, you’re a damn fool if the one person you decide to trust is female. I do believe you’ve got a problem.”
“I’m coping. See you this evening. And I’ll bring the cubes.” He moved away from the spidersled as it lurched into motion.
One night was all he would be spending on QED this trip. Severance no longer cared if he missed a few mail contracts by rushing back off-planet. He didn’t care that he would be turning around to face another six weeks of empty space without more than a one night’s break. All he cared about was starting the journey back to Lovelady.
The six weeks from Renaissance had been the longest and loneliest of his life, even worse than the dark season after Jeude’s death. At least during that period he’d had his own bitterness and self-reproach to keep him company. But for the past six weeks the only company he’d had aside from Fred had been memories of Cidra.
The ship had seemed deserted without her. It had amazed Severance at first. He was accustomed to being alone on board with only Fred as a companion. He shouldn’t have been so shocked to find himself alone again, but he was. He would wake up in the morning longing for the smell of hot coffade and someone to share it with. He would stand under the spray in the lav, and his mind would be filled with images of Cidra’s charming tendency to waste water. She was so scrupulously clean and sweet-smelling.
He missed other things too. She’d had the ability to share time with him without demanding that he entertain her. Cidra was a woman with whom he could be quiet. For hours at a time she had retreated to her bunk to read or become absorbed in her programming while he worked out on the exercise machine or fiddled with a gadget. But he had always been pleasantly conscious of her presence, a satisfying sensation. She had become a companion, not just a passenger.
She had withstood his temper too. Severance knew he had been abrupt with her on more than one occasion. But she’d handled it without sulking or crying.
Most of all he missed having her in his arms. The memories of her sweet, hot warmth had plagued him every league of the way from Renaissance, and Severance knew he would be goaded by them every league of the trip back. There had been other thoughts that had eaten at him too. He’d found himself picturing her at home in Clementia, surrounded by the serenity and ritual in which she had been raised.
But a part of him had begun to insist that his Cidra could never be truly happy in Clementia. When all was said and done, she was no Harmonic. Her passion, her spirit, and her strength would forever bar her from her world just as surely as her lack of telepathy.
If Cidra wasn’t fated to be happy in Clementia, then he had a right to take her with him. That knowledge had been growing steadily since he had put her on the freighter back to Lovelady. He had a right to take her, Severance decided, because she belonged to him now. She would always belong to him. If she didn’t yet realize that, then he would have to make her understand.
The restless desire to be on his way back to claim his woman made Severance lengthen his stride toward the port offices. The sooner he completed his business on QED, the better. The most important thing in his life was waiting.
“You’ll go with him when he comes for you, won’t you, Cidra?” Talina Peacetree smiled gently at her daughter, who sat across her from on a white stone bench. The bench had been handcarved by an expert craftsman who had worked the hard substance into a light and balanced piece of sculpture. It had cost a great deal of credit, but Talina and her husband, Garn, could afford it. The garden in which the stone bench resided was even more expensive. It was shaded with a unique variety of graceful pala trees that had been cultivated to order. Formal swirls of flowering plants added color and scent to the perfectly designed scene. All was serene.
