Silver Shark

Chapter Six

Claire walked down the hallway toward Venturo's office. The shell over her mind was paper-thin. Accreting it took time, and she barely had thirty-six hours to recuperate.

Saturday night, after she'd returned to her apartment, she pulled the ingredients out of the refrigerator and continued her aborted cooking attempt, convinced that every moment Security Forces led by Venturo Eskala would barge through her door. She'd finished the Dahlia Three-Color Stir-Fry and ate it. It wasn't as good as she had hoped, but it wasn't at all bad. Considering the bland food on which she grew up, her taste buds probably needed a lot of education to fine tune her palate. Or perhaps the anxiety that made her jump at every stray noise interfered with her ability to enjoy the meal.

Claire had taken a long, luxurious bath and, exhausted, fell asleep in the bathtub. She dreamed of Venturo, of his green eyes, of his bronze skin, of wanting to kiss him. Her dream-addled imagination conjured the taste of his mouth, the feel of his hands on her body as he stroked her, the weight of his muscular body pressing on top off her. She awoke to a cold bath.

He was as powerful as she had expected and more. When she thought about their fight, the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood up.

When she finally crawled into bed, she realized that she had gotten away with it.

He would never find out who she truly was. She curled into a tight ball and lay there for hours, her thoughts too loud, the phantom images of Venturo sliding back and forth across her memory.

Now it was Monday. She was once again the calm, collected Claire. She walked to her office, a comfortable nook on the side of Venturo's glass cage. Today the glass was opaque, frosted with white by a privacy switch. Ven didn't want to be disturbed. Just as well.

She barely had a chance to put down her bag, when Lienne approached the office, marching down the hallway.

The older woman nodded at her. "Claire, about the Berruto analysis. I know it was last minute, so if you want to take a few days, it will be fine."

Claire flicked the stylus across the digital screen projected onto her desk and smiled. "It's in your inbox."

Lienne glanced at her tablet. "So it is. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

The older woman regarded her for a long second and rapped her knuckles on opaque door. The frost melted from the glass. Ven sat inside. He was wearing a bionet suit. Dark circles clutched at his eyes.

Claire forced herself to sit down at her desk and look busy.

Lienne stepped inside the office and crossed her arms. Her mind sent a focused thought.

"Rolando said you and Claire had an intimate dinner in the Roof Garden on Friday."

Ven grimaced. "Rolando needs to keep his mouth shut."

"I've warned you about this, Ven."

His face looked grim.

"I'd gone to see Sangori. Claire insisted on coming with me, because apparently I 'shouldn't go alone.'"

"You shouldn't have."

"I ran into Castilla, Lim, and Pelori. Pelori locked Claire in front of a lobby full of witnesses. She didn't scream. Didn't panic. When I forced him to let go, she landed on her feet and asked if she should alert the authorities. No shaking in the voice. Nothing. She made us look strong and competent. She singlehandedly restored my standing in the community and she doesn't even realize it."

"I know all that." Lienne waved her hand. "The story is making the rounds."

Ven looked up and his eyes betrayed anger. "Then why in the world are you badgering me about serving her dinner? Should I have sent her home and then be notified that her mind developed a lesion and her brains leaked out of her ears?"

Lienne leaned forward, resting her knuckles on his desk. "That's not what that dinner was and you know it. You cooked for her, Ven. You served her pink wine. You were up there for two hours. The only thing missing from this romantic rendezvous were the passion cones and only because the kitchen didn't have any."

Ven leaned back in his chair and sighed.

"There are things that aren't appropriate between the owner of a business and an employee."

"Don't lecture me," he warned.

"I will lecture you. Has it crossed your mind that she may feel obligated to accept your advances?"

"What advances? Nothing happened."

"She can't decline your invitations. In her mind, you're putting her into a position where she must accept your overtures or risk being sent back to a hellish planet where she might be put to death on arrival. You're putting her into a very difficult position."

He waved his hand at her. "Nothing. Happened. It wasn't that kind of dinner."

"Oh? What did you talk about?"

"Nothing. She asked about Castilla and then I asked her about her childhood."

"Venturo! Do you not see the writing on this wall? She is a talented girl, smart, efficient, and conscientious. If you keep pushing this, she may quit to escape. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to find an admin who can actually tolerate you, Ven?"

He stared at her, incredulous. "You didn't even want to hire her! I hired her."

"However she came to work here, she is here now, she is doing exceptionally well, and I don't cherish the prospect of having to replace her."

Venturo raised his hand. "Enough."

"It's not fair to her, it's not -"

"I said, enough!"

The force of Ven's mind tore out. Lienne fell silent.

They looked at each other.

"Why are you wearing a biosuit at this hour?" she asked.

He rubbed his face.

Lienne checked her tablet. "The log says you've been logged into the bionet for the last thirty-five hours."

"I've met a psycher," he said. "Young. Female. Grade A."

"And?"

"She was powerful."

"How powerful?"

Ven met her gaze. "She iced me."

"Don't be ridiculous. Nobody has been able to ice you since you were sixteen years old..."

He just looked at her.

Lienne fell silent. "For how long?" she asked finally.

"Six seconds."

Lienne dropped into a chair.

"Was she DDS?"

He shook his head. "She iced me and took off. I traced her to a portable hub and the connection went dead."

"You have to find her, Ven. If DDS gets a hold of a psycher who can ice you, Castilla will kill you."

"Yes, who would you berate then?" He grimaced.

"Don't be ridiculous," Lienne's tone was soft. "Find her."

"I will."

Lienne rose. "And Ven..."

"What?"

"About our previous conversation: there are ways to go about those things. Your mother knew this and so did your father."

Venturo blinked.

"It's a bit extreme, but who will tell you no?" Lienne shrugged and left the office.

Claire kept her haze firmly on her desk. Lienne's worries were misplaced. She could've told her that. The end of the conversation made no sense at all.

Ven stepped out of the office. "Claire?"

"Yes?" She forced a smile.

"Clear my schedule for the rest of the week. Split my shift between Victorio, Rukah, and Daneb. I'm not available for anyone for anything unless it's an emergency."

"I'll take care of it."

He nodded, looked like he was going to say something else, and returned to his office instead.

Claire sipped her tea. It was Friday, and she sat in a soft blue chair of the fourteenth floor recreation room. The room, shaped like a horseshoe, was positioned so the straight wall faced the diagrid. The wall was glass and sometimes Claire stood next to it, looking down the long sheer drop to the lobby. She liked to watch people, knowing that she was all but invisible.

Today she just wanted solitude. She'd dimmed the glass wall to near darkness, shutting off the bright light of the afternoon streaming in through the solar panels of the diagrid until only the pale purple and blue mood lighting remained. Her head hummed. Being a replacement Venturo Escana was a tiring business.

Claire took another sip of tea and checked the tab. Passion raspberry. Hmm. Delicious.

It was thirty minutes past five. The building was mostly empty. The support personnel had gone home, eager to escape and start their weekend, with the exception of the psycher assistance unit. Both Rukah and Angelia were logged in, although Rukah was coming to the end of his shift and Angelia was just beginning hers.

In the past week Claire had made more executive decisions than she cared to admit. Venturo spent every waking hour logged into the bionet. Attempting to reach him proved futile. He simply brushed her off. Lienne carried her own workload and the couple of times Claire consulted her, the older woman defaulted to "Ask Venturo."

In the end she resolved most of the problems herself, under the banner of Ven's authority. If Lienne or he ever realized who had handled most of the arising problems, she would be fired on the spot for overstepping. Claire smiled to herself. Right now getting fired didn't seem overly tragic. Sure, she would have to find a new job, and her probation period had shrunk to mere six weeks instead of twelve, but it might be worth it.

It would be worth it to be free of Ven. To be free of the fantasy that would never come to pass. She was too proud to spend the entirety of her life as his silent shadow, while he imagined her beating off the prospective assassins with her tablet.

Ven's mind approached.

Claire sipped her tea.

He emerged from the shadowy hallway, the bionet suit adhering to him like second skin. She ogled him quietly, looking through her eyelashes while pretending to drink from her cup.

Ven dropped a stack of pseudo paper next to her and landed on the couch. "I found you."

She almost panicked, but her shell was firmly in place and thick enough to withstand a probe. "I wasn't hiding."

"Yes, you were. Lights are off, your desk is organized, as if you've left. If it wasn't for your bag, I wouldn't know you were in the building."

"My desk is always organized."

He looked exhausted. The laugh lines around his eyes seemed more pronounced. His cheeks were withdrawn. And yet he radiated a kind of magnetic sexual energy that made her watch him. Being in his presence was like having sex without ever approaching orgasm — she could watch and imagine, but he would never be hers and he would never want her the way she wanted him.

He sprawled on the couch, resting his head on the padded arm rest, straightened his legs, and winced. Cramped. Clocking nearly eighty hours in the bionet in one week will do it to you. She'd done it before and it was unpleasant.

Ven nodded at the pseudopaper. "I found these."

Claire glanced at the sheets. The Quattrone Family quote.

"I know Lienne didn't approve this. Nor did she compile the data for the quote."

She didn't feel like lying. "How?"

"Lienne has a best friend, Fotina Heleni. When they were both sixteen, Deo Quattrone stood her up. They were at a party together, and he saw his ex-girlfriend in the crowd with another kid and made a giant scene. It got ugly. Lienne despises him and the whole family. If her hate were a plasma converter, she could launch a thousand spaceships into orbit."

Claire laughed. "Are you trying to hint that your aunt holds grudges?"

"I'm not hinting. I am saying it. So who helped you with these?"

She sighed. "Would it be so terrible if I had done them myself?"

"The quote shows a detailed knowledge of the bionet," he said. "Who is the co-conspirator, Claire? I promise I won't punish anyone. In fact, I may give this person a raise and unload the rest of the quotes on them. Although that would be a punishment in itself, I suppose."

Frustration boiled up in her. "You're right, Ven. A drone like me couldn't possibly understand the expense involved in structuring the spiral cell protection."

He focused on her. "You are not a drone. We've discussed that."

"And you never like to repeat yourself." She had to stop talking.

Ven sat up, propping himself on the armrest. "Why are you upset with me?"

Say nothing. Say nothing. Claire forced her voice to sound even. "I am not upset. I'm just tired."

"I get it," he said. "Unloading all of my work on your shoulders wasn't fair. But I have no choice. You can keep your helper a secret, if you wish. I'll find out eventually anyway."

No, you won't. You can't find someone who doesn't exist.

"You're still looking for your mystery woman?" she asked.

He nodded.

I'm sitting right here. "What's so important about her?"

He sat up. "Have you ever seen a silver shark?"

"No."

Ven reached for her tablet and pulled up the console. His fingers flew over the keys. A large digital screen ignited in the opposite wall. It was intense, deep blue, suffused with rays of pale green light, and she realized she was looking at the depths of the ocean.

Something stirred far in the distance. A hint of movement shifted the water.

A pale silver star winked in the distance.

Another ignited close by it.

Claire leaned forward.

More stars ignited and shimmered with nacre fire, shifting through the entire rainbow spectrum. A serpentine shape swam to her, graceful, beautiful, sheathed with silver scales and rippling with color. The sleek creature paused in front of the camera and coiled, displaying a multitude of wide fins bristling with spikes. There was something hypnotic in the way its body moved, sliding its coils through the water.

"This is what she was...?" Claire asked.

"Yes. It's a silver shark serpent off the Coral Coast. Except she was more like this." Venturo tapped the tablet.

The sea serpent grew, swelling, filling the screen. Her head sprouted ivory horns, tinted with intense electric azure. A mane of silver and blue sheathed her spine, flaring around her head. Some of her fins widened, turning into razor-sharp blades, others grew into wide wheels, rippling with iridescent rainbows. A line of pale blue lights ignited along the serpent's body. She gathered herself.

The lights pulsed.

Sharp blades of ice exploded from the creature, freezing the screen.

That's how he saw her... "How did you get this image?" Claire said, her voice barely above whisper.

"I drew it with imagining software," he said. "From memory. It doesn't do her justice. She was incredible. I wish you could've seen her, Claire."

The admiration vibrated in his voice and suddenly she was intensely jealous of herself.

"I've never seen anyone like her," Ven said. "Every psycher sees the bionet in his own way. I see it as shallow ocean with islands. I was patrolling when I got a ping from one of the Security Forces installations."

"I didn't know Guardian had any Security Force contracts."

"It's not a fact they want us to advertise," he said. "Anyway, I swam that way and saw her. She had accessed a coral tree — the installation's data banks — and was coming back. She had to slither down a spike-studded channel barely wide enough to hold her. Thirty centimeters in either direction and she'd be skewered. It was insane."

He sounded obsessed.

"How do you even know it was a woman?" Claire murmured.

"A feeling I got. I brushed past her mind and it seemed familiar somehow. I've met her before. I've been breaking my brain trying to recall where and nothing." He rubbed his face.

She couldn't help herself. "May be she came to apply for a job."

"No. I would've remembered."

Oh you idiot.

"And I would've hired her." Ven sighed.

Claire set her now empty teacup on the table. "Just out of pure academic curiosity, what are you planning to do if you find her?"

"I'll drop to my knees and propose marriage on the spot."

What?

He leaned back and laughed. "You should've seen your face. I finally managed to rattle the imperturbable Claire Shannon."

She almost hit him. "All this time in the bionet clearly altered your thinking patterns."

"If I see her, I'll try to buy her," he said. "Or kill her. I haven't decided."

"That's a bit extreme."

"If DDS finds her, they will do the same," he said. "Not only is she Grade A psychic, she's been trained. She has the kind of combat expertise that takes years to master. During our fight she cloned herself. She actually made copies of herself and they moved independently of her. They lasted only a second or two, but it would be very useful in a fight. I've been trying to figure out how she did it."

It's not that difficult really. You shed copies of your outer thoughts within milliseconds of each other. Same process that produces your shadow. Claire clamped down on that thought before it turned into words.

"Well, good luck in your quest," she said. "I think I'll go home now. I've spent too much time in this building this week."

"That's an excellent idea." He rolled off the couch and stood next to her. He was half a foot taller and he was standing too close. If she raised her hand, she could touch his face. "Come on a trip with me."

What? "Where?" she asked calmly.

"To the provinces. I need to see a friend of mine anyway, so we can pretend it's a business trip."

"And what would it be really, if not a business trip?" she asked.

He leaned toward her a fraction of an inch. His eyes laughed. "It would be me and you getting away from this building."

What did that mean, exactly? "Your aunt wouldn't approve," she said.

"I can go whole days without giving a damn about what my aunt thinks. Weeks even. Come with me, Claire. You've never been to the provinces and Celino's wife is a fantastic cook."

She hesitated, still not sure if the offer was genuine or if there was some hidden catch.

"It's not an order," Ven said. "Just an invitation from a friend. Whether you accept it or decline will have no bearing on your position with this company. I don't want you to feel obligated."

"I don't," she said. "How far is it?"

"About an hour by aerial at top speed. I promise to have you home before midnight."

"Why midnight?"

"When you take a young girl out with her parents' permission, it's understood that you must return by midnight." He shook his head. "It's just an expression. Forget it. Come with me."

"Are you sure your friends won't mind my presence?"

"I'm sure," he said.

"I need to get my bag."

"I need to shower. Tenth floor deck in fifteen minutes?"

Fourteen minutes later she climbed into his aerial. Ven grinned at her. He wore civilian clothes: a dark pair of pants and a light grey shirt that molded to his chest and arms. His hair was still wet from the shower and she smelled a faint hint of his soap. She didn't know the name of the scent, but it made her want to kiss him and see if she could taste it.

"I'm glad you decided to join me," he said.

"Me too." She just hoped she wouldn't regret it later.

The aerial shot into orange light of the afternoon.

Ven pushed the com and typed in the number. A man's face appeared on the screen: masculine, intense, with harsh grey eyes. His hair was almost blue black. Recognition flooded the man's eyes. He smiled and became a different person — warm, welcoming. "There you are. We expected you earlier."

"I'm on the way to you," Ven said. "Celino, I'm bringing a guest."

"What kind of a guest?" a female voice called off screen.

"A young female one," Celino said. "She is a co-worker."

"Oh!" the woman off-screen said. "I better make desert."

Celino and Imelda Carvanna lived in a beautiful two-story structure with cream walls and a wrap-around balcony shielded by a green roof. Surrounded by orchards and trees, the house drowned in a vast garden, and as Claire walked next to Ven down the twisted path from the aerial landing pad, a sea of dahlias bloomed on both sides of her: peach, orange, yellow, blood-red, deep purple, blue fringed with white, some large, some small, some with wide petals, some with narrow frayed florets, others a mere single ring of petals around a flat disk in the center. It was as if someone had taken a rainbow, put it into a blender, and tossed the result out.

"Anemone," Ven pointed out different varieties. "Waterlily. Ball. Starburst."

"I didn't know you were a botanist," she said.

"I'm not. Growing dahlias is like a national sport. I remember one year a neighbor somehow bred one that was indigo and wouldn't let anyone have any tubers. Almost started a feud. I think someone got stabbed over it."

Claire laughed.

"It's not funny," Ven said, smiling. "Dahlias are serious business."

Celino and Imelda waited for them on the porch of their house. On the ride over Ven had told her most of the details. Celino's family and his had been neighbors. Celino was twelve years older than Ven, forty-five to Ven's thirty-three, and the two of them didn't pay much attention to each other until Celino, who had become a financial shark and accumulated a huge fortune, decided to retire. He required bionet protection for his rather large fortune and business interests, and so he looked up an old neighbor. They soon became close friends.

Looking at Celino Carvanna now, Claire could barely see the traces of the ruthless financial magnate. He seemed perfectly amicable. Charming even.

"This is Claire," Ven said. "She works with me. Claire, this is Celino and that's Meli."

Celino smiled wide and nodded to her. "Welcome!"

"Thank you."

Celino slapped Ven's shoulder. "I have news for you. Come."

They went into the house.

Meli Carvanna smiled at her. She was short, dark-haired, with a big breasts and wide hips, and beautiful brown eyes on a tan face. She looked as if she belonged on the porch of this house, in the garden of dahlias, on this planet. This is what the women Ven grew up with looked like, Claire realized. Standing next to her, she felt at once awkward and inadequate. She would never be like this. She shouldn't have come.

"No matter how much time Celino spent in the city, he's still a man of the provinces," Meli said. "Men retire to discuss Important Business, and we women are expected to entertain ourselves by cooking. Since I already finished dinner, I say we revolt and drink wine on the balcony instead."

"Very well."

Claire followed Meli through the house to the balcony, where they sat in the padded chairs, a small table with two glasses and a bottle of wine between them. Meli poured the wine into two glasses. The golden liquid filled the glasses.

"You must excuse them," Meli said. "Knowing Ven, the Sangori problem is driving him up the wall. There is nothing he hates more than being made to look foolish. He detests it. Always did, since he was a child."

"You knew him when you were children?" Claire kept her face carefully neutral.

Meli nodded. "We all grew up in the same area. Ven's cousin dated my youngest brother. Did I say something unpleasant?"

Claire looked at her. She was sure none of her emotions had reflected on her face.

"I'm trained to assess minute facial expression," Meli said. "Yours was one of distaste."

"Why would one require such a training?" Claire said.

"I'm an assassin," Meli said. "Or I was, rather. For many years. It's considered prudent to rapidly identify emotions in my line of work." She smiled. "It keeps you breathing longer. So why distaste?"

Claire looked at the flowers. "You reminded me that I am an outsider."

"Oh? Where are you from?"

"Uley."

"So how did you and Ven meet?"

"He hired me." Claire closed her mouth, hoping to leave it at that, but the older woman watched her with a rapt expression. Silence stretched.

"It started with the war ending," Claire said. "I worked as a secretary, so I was viewed as civilian..."

Twenty minutes later, when she was done explaining, Meli smiled. "I'm glad you and Ven found each other. Celino and I married late by kinsmen standards and Ven is almost as old as Celino was when we married. ."

Claire looked into her empty wine glass. "I think you might have an incorrect impression. Ven and I are not a couple. I'm his admin."

Meli sipped her wine. "I see. There go my hopes. It's impolite to listen in on a conversation that doesn't concern you."

Claire drew back. Something rustled in the garden below. A small tan hand clasped one of the wooden columns supporting the roof. The second hand joined the first and a child pulled himself up on the balcony rail. He was tan, with Celino's grey eyes and Meli's chocolate brown hair. A streak of dried blood marked his temple and his left forearm sported a long knife cut.

"How did it go?" Meli asked.

The boy raised his face. "I kicked his ass."

"Good. Go wash up. Your father will expect full account at dinner."

The boy ducked inside.

"Neighbor kid problems," Meli said.

"Yours is a strange culture," Claire said. "Beautiful, vibrant, and passionate, but also savage."

Meli stretched "It's the planet. It heats our blood and makes us do crazy things. Resistance is futile, Claire. It will claim you as its own sooner or later."

The bionet jungle flashed in Claire's mind. "I think it already has."

When Celino and Ven emerged from the study, they moved to the dining room. They had dinner, a delicious parade of perfectly seasoned dishes, during which the ten-year-old Ramiro Carvanna had to describe in excruciating detail every moment of his fight with twelve-year-old Soldano Chellini. The Sangori problem was discussed briefly — the always prosperous family had made a number of costly investments that failed. The firm was teetering on the brink of collapse and the establishment of the bionet servers was Savien's desperate attempt to project an image of thriving success and drum up more business. Celino pounced on the opportunity as if he'd smelled blood in the water. She couldn't quite follow the intricacies of their conversation, but if everything went their way, Carvanna and Escana would own most of Sangori by the quarter's end.

Ven and Carvanna caught up on the latest gossip. Someone married someone else. Someone's sister left the planet. Someone had engineered a short-life, weapon-grade plant virus and nuked the rival's garden with it. Names floated by her. She could've used her training to memorize them, but she didn't bother. What was the point? They were too vivid and too bright, too familiar with each other, and she simply faded in the background.

Later Claire found herself back on the balcony, standing at the rail, watching the last splashes of sunset as the star rolled behind the gardens. Ven came looking for her. At first, she ignored his approaching mind, then she ignored his footsteps, then he leaned on the rail next to her, and she couldn't ignore him any longer.

"Do you like them?" he asked.

"They are very pretty," she said, surveying the flowers.

"I meant Celino and Imelda."

Why did it matter if she liked them? If she said no, what would it change? "They are wonderful hosts."

He leaned closer, searching her face for something. "Did you not like being here? You didn't say more than two words at dinner."

She wanted to grab him and shake him. Why? Why would he bring her here to this little paradise and show her what she could never have? Why introduce her to a perfect woman she could never be? It was cruel. "I'm just a little tired," she said with a small smile.

Ven turned, leaning with his back on the rail. "Was someone rude to you?"

"Not at all. Your friends were perfectly courteous."

"Then what is it?"

"It's nothing, Venturo. I am just a little tired."

He exhaled. "This would be so much easier if you were a psycher."

She pushed from the rail. "Well, I am not." And even if I was, I would lock you out of my mind.

His mind reached out, hovering next to her.

"No," she said sharply. Now wasn't the time for mind scans. If he discovered her shell, he would put two and two together. He still didn't know if he wanted to hire or to kill the mysterious psycher. Venturo was proud. If he realized how thoroughly she tricked him, he would feel extremely foolish. The choice between kill and hire wouldn't be so difficult then. If he fought with her, one of them would not survive. She didn't want to die and she didn't want to hurt him.

Venturo peered at her. "How did you know I wanted to scan your mind?"

She gave him a cold look. "I guessed. You have difficulty taking no for an answer."

"Does this mean you didn't really want to come with me?"

"That's not what I meant."

"Claire, I told you, you didn't have to accept my invitation if you didn't want to."

"I wanted to come," she said.

She could tell by the look on his face that he didn't believe her. "I think it's better I take you home," he said. "After all, I promised to return you to your life at midnight."

He strode back inside the house. She wanted to scream, but venting her frustration in a loud shriek was out of the question, so she clenched her fist and smashed it into the rail.