Redemption Protocol (Contact) (18 page)

Whittenhorn frowned at Touvenay. Touvenay placed his empty glass on Whittenhorn's tray.

“I detest hyperforeignism. Refresh please.”

Ouch, Havoc thought, as the exchange passed straight over his head.

Chaucer murmured a sound of approval.

“As a young man I would have paid a great deal to see something like that.”

Stone turned.

“What?”

Havoc chuckled as the princes approached in their scarlet dress uniforms, each wearing a purple sash across their chest. Havoc was entertained to see them both wearing ceremonial sabers. Must have been hell in the flexipipe, he thought. Chaucer was practically dribbling.

“I've died and gone to heaven.”

“Che bella donna,” Intrepido said.

A murmur of appreciation came from the men as Stephanie emerged from the lock wearing a shimmering gown with a revealing slash cut high on her left thigh. Havoc recognized the mesmerized look on the princes' faces. Looking at Stephanie, there was a lot to be mesmerized by.

“Thank God we have women on this trip,” Intrepido said, “an all male mission is unbearable.”

Intrepido’s romantically rolling accent made it sound like a fate worse than death.

Jafari grinned.

“Lol.”

Touvenay winced at Jafari’s exclamation.

The ladies gathered by the doorway. Havoc thought Intrepido had a point; the dynamics of all male missions were different and usually worse. Mixed missions were best, he thought, they were more balanced.

His gaze was arrested by Weaver, who was wearing a short blue cocktail dress with the top slashed in a deep V. She looked stunning. Breathtaking.

The ladies moved amongst them and the conversation became animated. Havoc watched Tomas and Charles move toward Stephanie. She flicked her hair over her shoulder, a tigress sensing weak animals. Havoc felt a little twinge. The boys were out of their depth.

Stone extended his arm to greet Novosa.

“Miss Novosa, you look like a summer's day.”

“Why thank you, Bob,” Novosa said.

Novosa’s lips made a pouting ‘o’ shape, peculiar to her accent, when she finished the word 'Bob'. Novosa put her hand on Stone's shoulder and lifted her ankle to adjust her shoe.

“God, heels. If I fall off these skyscrapers then bones will be broken.”

Havoc smiled as Stone beamed at him, presumably delighted at being used as a balancing device by Novosa.

Novosa raised an eyebrow at Stone.

“Feeling better?”

Stone puffed out his chest.

“Sure am. Constitution of an ox.”

Novosa stepped back.

“A little ox.”

“Big on personality,” Stone said.

Novosa smiled as she turned, distracted by the aroma wafting over from the kitchen counter.

“That smells delicious.”

Havoc nodded.

“Fournier has been torturing us for the last ten minutes.”

Novosa turned back to them.

“Is that algae or is it from his stores again?”

“From his stores,” Stone said.

“You realize it will be impossible to eat ship food soon?”

Havoc chuckled.

“If you have to choose between us, rescue Fournier.”

Novosa nodded, laughing.

Stone looked up at her.

“So, Saskia. What do you do when you're off-duty?”

Novosa looked down at Stone, running her eyes languidly over his dome.

“I fence. Do you fence, Bob?”

Stone’s eyes were peculiarly fixed.

“Sure. I mean, who doesn’t fence?”

Stone looked around the group for confirmation. Havoc eyed Stone skeptically as he cast to him privately.

> Cool your jets, cowboy.

Stone pursed his lips in an ‘I know what I’m doing’ look and adopted the imagined posture of a man who’d spent literally thousands of hours on the piste.

“Do you fence, Havoc?”

Havoc could almost visualize the flood of fencing related information whizzing from shipnet to Stone.

“No.”

Stone waggled his eyebrows at Novosa, in a sort of,
who would believe there is a class of people who don’t fence
, kind of way.

“Oh. Goodness.”

Novosa was looking at Stone, amused. Stone basked in it like a lizard. Novosa shook her head.

“You are an interesting man, Bob. Everyone is so good looking. Everyone can be – so everyone is. And you choose to be... different. I admire that in a man.”

Stone’s eyebrows moved stratospherically domeward as Fournier approached them with a tray. Havoc felt a rising sense of anticipation. A heady mixture of food aromas mingled in the air.

Fournier held out a tray of tiny white plates, each holding an elaborate twist of lamb with some artful vegetable decoration.

“Just an amuse-bouche to keep everyone tided over,” Fournier said.

Novosa reached to take one.

“They look fabulous. What are they?”

“Oh, just a little clin d'oeil of lamb from the loin on a bed of caramelized phyllo, with a some thinly sliced shallots and––”

Novosa took a tiny bite. She made a noise that Havoc more usually associated with the bedroom. Stone's eyebrows practically mated.

“Is that... bay laurel and...”

“Chervil?” Touvenay said, eating his own.

“Very good!” Fournier said.

Havoc placed his own amuse-bouche into his mouth in one go – in size terms, it wasn't quite a mouthful. The flavors and texture were out of all proportion to its size. It was succulent, tasty, slightly spicy and completely delicious. Inspired, even. It was also, for such a small mouthful, strangely and wholly satisfying.

“Delicious,” Havoc said.

“Divine,” Novosa said.

Touvenay looked about as animated as Havoc had seen him.

“The lamb is marvelous.”

“His name was Wink,” Fournier said.

“Pardon?” Stone said.

“My youngest daughter named him Wink,” Fournier said.

Stone comprehended his.

“The lamb we are eating...”

Fournier nodded.

“Was called Wink. Wonderful fellow, gamboling and playing; well muscled and lean. I took him the day before I left.”

“Ah.”

There was a pop of a cork and Whittenhorn circulated, dispensing champagne. A glass was also passed through the crowd separately. Touvenay handed it to Jafari as Brennen's voice floated over.

“For you, Mr Jafari.”

Jafari reached for his non-alcoholic beverage.

“Thank you, Sir.”

Chaucer shook his head.

“I had a patient who abstained from drinking, sex and rich food. He was healthy until the day he took his own life.”

“My faith,” Jafari explained.

“Lord save you,” Chaucer said, taking a drink.

Jafari smiled.

“That's the plan.”

“Ugh,” Chaucer said.

Havoc looked around the assembled throng. Many of the women had favored skin art and glyphs as well as jewelry. Karch had a little meteor shower that occasionally sparkled across her neck. Stephanie had a Celtic design that glowed gold as it slowly traced across her shoulder, gradually changing shape. Stephanie caught Havoc’s eye over Tomas's shoulder and gave him a smoldering look. Poor Tomas, Havoc thought. He looked to see if Weaver had any glyphs but he didn't notice any. Now he was looking at her, it seemed quite difficult to look anywhere else.

Ambassador Abbott tapped his glass with a spoon. His face broke into a wide smile as he raised his glass.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome. Commander Brennen has asked me to give our toast. My first toast must be to the ladies, for if beauty were tyranny, we would all be in chains. Our beautiful ladies.”

The men echoed the toast, glasses were raised and everyone drank; the ladies toasting each other, of course, rather than themselves.

“Our beautiful ladies!”

Abbott turned slowly, surveying the room.

“My second toast is to our venture. Coming together is a beginning; working together is progress; and leaving alive is a success!”

There was laughter at this subversion of the marriage toast. Glasses were raised to the toast.

“Success!”

Havoc caught Weaver looking at him. He was drawn into the infinitely recursing gold triangles spinning slowly across her pupils. He found the effect hypnotic. Stone clinked his glass and Havoc broke eye contact as Fournier raised his glass and added his own toast.

“If you can be happy, then be; for tomorrow there's no knowing.”

Touvenay looked droll.

“The future is not what it used to be, apparently.”

There was laughter.

Weaver appeared at Havoc’s shoulder. It looked like it was time to start building bridges.

“It’s about before...”

He didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.

“It's ok.”

“I just wanted to say...”

She was obviously finding it difficult to apologize for screaming in his face. He reached for one of Fournier’s little appetizers to pass over to her.

“It's ok, there’s no need.”

“Yes, well. I think I ought...”

He shook his head.

“Honestly, there’s no need to apologize.”

“Apologize?”

“For screaming at me.”

“For telling you what you are?”

He blinked.

“What?”

“You think I was going to apologize to you? I was going to let you apologize for lying to me.”

“
Lying
to you?”

“When you misled me earlier.”

“
What
?”

“I can't believe you thought
I
would apologize to
you
. If you had better interpersonal skills...”

He made a choking sound. Breathe, he told himself. Weaver looked at him with disdain.

“When you do feel able to apologize, I want you to know that I'm ready to accept it and move on.”

Havoc felt his teeth grinding. Weaver watched him. He stared into the middle distance. When it was clear that he wasn't going to respond, she spoke.

“Well, I’m glad we had this little talk.”

He didn't trust himself. He chucked Fournier’s treat in his mouth instead. She watched it disappear.

“Oh, is there any more of those?”

“That was the last one,” he said, still chewing.

He had no idea if it was true. She looked at him reproachfully. Stone laughed loudly and they both turned. Stone tipped his head back and Novosa dangled one of Fournier's treats above his mouth. Having teased Stone enough, Novosa dropped it in.

Weaver smiled.

“They say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach.”

“Sounds a bit inefficient to me,” Havoc muttered.

Weaver tutted as she spun on her heel and walked away. He watched her go as he thought about the benefits of all male missions.

They were always better; no exceptions.

~    ~    ~

Touvenay held up his glass for Whittenhorn to refill.

“Almost by definition, a species that journeys beyond its origin planet is an apex-predator.”

Fournier shook his head as he took a drink.

“And how would you respond if a string of cockroaches wandered up to your front door to start a conversation?”

“I would hope we're past the state of ignorance where we refer to another species that approaches us as a string of cockroaches,” Weaver said.

Fournier looked at her.

“It isn't just
our
response that we need to account for, is it?”

Touvenay looked thoughtful.

“Has humanity ever co-existed with another species they didn't dominate?”

“Have we ever met another species to co-exist with?” Weaver said.

Touvenay considered this.

“True.”

“But look at our relationship with the Dem,” Kemensky said.

Weaver looked confused.

“What relationship? We have no relationship with the Dem.”

“Surely we can't assure the future of our species by hiding in a cave,” Darkwood said.

“What if it's an AI on Plash? Would we treat it differently to another species?” Jafari said.

“Even if the Plash species are evolved biological life, it doesn't necessarily follow that they have emotions or values as we understand them,” Touvenay said.