Defy the Worlds (Constellation #2)(31)
Humidity wears out a ship. Damages the pipes. Noemi was trained to vent her starfighter and her suit after every flight, because too much water in the works will break it down faster than anything but an explosion. Whoever built a spaceship this extravagant and advanced has to know that.
Are the passengers too rich to care about using up this entire ship?
Finally the Zebra leads them to a tall set of arched doors, inlaid with enameled tiles. The Zebra steps back to allow their party through as the doors slide open to reveal a gold-plated room filled with a swirl of beautiful people—young and glamorous, dressed in sumptuous clothes—carrying their own glasses of bubbling wine. Honey-colored light filters through panels of what looks like real amber. As the partygoers laugh and chatter, they seem more than cheerful. The mood is closer to exuberance, delight, even elation. Mechs are everywhere, catering to each human whim: Two Oboes and a William play string instruments on the dais while Yokes offer fine wines and finger food that smells richer than any meal Noemi’s ever had.
When Mansfield and Gillian come through the doors, all the guests turn as one. Everyone smiles, and a few people even clap softly. A crowd begins to form around them, eager to personally greet the great cyberneticist and his famous scientist daughter. Seeing them so fawned over is more than Noemi can stand, so she edges away through the throng—still in the party, still obeying Gillian’s dictates. But now she’s able to take stock of her surroundings, plus do some quality eavesdropping.
Noemi pretends to be very interested in picking out a petit four from a Yoke’s tray while she focuses her attention on Gillian and the black-haired man talking with her.
“—feel sure you entirely agree that pushing up the launch schedule was unnecessary.” The man smiles, but it’s the fierce, teeth-bared smile of someone who expects to get his own way and hasn’t this time. “I hardly had time to pack my baggage, much less get it here!”
“Of course, Vinh,” Gillian says. She can sound pleasant when she tries. “Yes, if they’ve picked up ionization trails, maybe we have a few small ships scouting this location, but that’s no reason for panic. My father and I have our own vital reasons for wanting to delay the launch. This greatly interferes with his… medical treatment. But we don’t have veto power over this.”
Vinh’s anger is clear even without its target being in the room. “How dare they inconvenience you, two of the most illustrious passengers on this ship? Especially when your family has been through so much lately.” The side of Gillian’s face twitches; Noemi glimpses it and wonders what it means, but Vinh doesn’t even notice. “We should lodge a protest with the captain immediately. Your names on a petition would carry real weight.”
Hearing Abel’s murder described as Mansfield’s “medical treatment” is too much to take. Noemi takes another few steps back and begins weaving her way through the crowd, trying to get a sense of the room’s dimensions. She notices one tray in a Yoke’s hands: It’s filled with cheeses and breads, and also on the tray is a knife for trimming the cheeses to the guests’ demands.
It’s not much of a knife, but it has a pointed tip. Noemi could pierce skin and flesh with that. Later on this trip, she may need to. She can’t really steal it while dozens of people are looking on, but she makes a note for later: They’re careless. The only weapons they think about are blasters. They won’t be watching the cheese knives.
She keeps working her way around the room. As she goes, she jostles a girl a few years younger than she is—no, someone a few years older, an adult, although this woman’s not quite five feet tall and so thin that she looks more like a little kid. The woman’s champagne spills on Noemi’s jumpsuit. “Oops! So sorry! Let me get that,” she says, gesturing at a Dog to dab at Noemi’s clothes. “I’m Delphine Ondimba. I don’t think we ever met at one of the prelim retreats, did we?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“What a beautiful outfit!” Delphine beams. “It sets off your figure wonderfully. I wish I could wear things like that—but when I do, I look even tinier than I am, and people start acting like I should still be playing with dolls.”
“You look great,” Noemi ventures, and she genuinely likes the look of Delphine’s flowing white silk caftan and heavily jeweled earrings. But she feels like she’s playing an elaborate game of dress up. More to the point, she’s not learning anything about this ship’s layout, which means she’s no closer to figuring out her escape. Time to keep moving. To Delphine she says, “I’m sure we’ll run into each other later.”
It’s a mundane brush-off, which is why Noemi’s so surprised when Delphine breaks into peals of laughter. “‘Run into each other’! Yes, I bet we will, at some point in the next fifty years or so.”
Fifty years?
Noemi opens her mouth to ask—then goes silent as the ship shudders beneath her feet. The entire party changes mood in an instant as smiles melt to frowns. All the musician mechs stop on precisely the same beat. “Well, what in the worlds is that?” Delphine says. “Are we taking off already?”
“My last shipment hasn’t arrived!” Furiously Vinh stomps toward a side door, which slides open to reveal a large plasma window that shows the starfield around them. “If they’ve moved the launch even closer, I’m going to demand a full—”