Ice Red Read online

  Hard to decide what’s more infuriating—being sent off to do pointless busywork, or being set up to fail, she thought, knotting her hands in the material of her travelpac. Well, she was done playing Victoria’s games.

  Deliberately, she pushed back her useless, distracting anger. Emotional reactions had no place in business, she chided herself. To win this battle, she had to be cool. Smart. A consummate professional. She had to go down to Mars, shoot this assignment out of orbit, and come back to Eris in triumph. Let Victoria and her stooges on the Board of Directors try to get rid of her after that.

  “I will come back,” she whispered. There was a click and a whir behind her, and she turned to see the little maintenance bot still busily sanitizing the floor nearby. “Really, I will,” she said to it.

  The bot hummed agreeably, and she had to smile. Bots might not be much for conversation, she thought, but they were great listeners.

  “Elevator car 728 now arriving,” announced a simulated voice. Down below, the silvery arrival gates slid open. Bianca surveyed the passengers arriving from Mars as they began to file into the terminal—the tall slender Martians, their carbonsuits blazing with color, mixed with a few short, broad Earthers in their simpler, darker clothes—all of them bustling, talking, full of purpose.

  Watching them, Bianca felt her mood begin to lighten. A sudden burst of laughter drew her attention. Down below, a posse of space cowboys lounged near the arrival gate, probably waiting for their mates to get off the elevator so that they could drag them off to a night of drinking and debauchery at the Station Club.

  “They look like they’re about to have a bloody good time,” she said to the maintenance bot. “Not that I’d know from personal experience.”

  The daughter of one of the wealthiest and most powerful men on Mars couldn’t just go thrash in a club like any other red-blooded chic. Not when there was always some tabloid reporter with an eye camera about, waiting to pounce. She had to be very, very careful if she didn’t want every indiscretion streaming into the DataCloud where the whole Sol could watch her.

  If there was one thing Bianca could never stand, it was people watching her.

  She had hated it even when she was little. Her father’s overly conscientious aides, always monitoring her, the medical techs who had lost her mother to a rare leukemia, always poking at her... She made it her business to avoid them all when she could, losing herself in her explorations of Eris, and later, in her studies.

  “Maybe I took the privacy thing a little too far, though,” she mused aloud. “I mean, look at me. I’m not down there having fun with those cowboys, I’m up here talking to a maintenance bot.” She looked over at the thing in time to see it scurry off to sanitize some other patch of floor.

  “Traitor,” she said to its composite backside.

  All alone again. But least I still have a nice selection of vicarious thrills down below in the terminal. There, a bloke was macking his newly arrived girlfriend like he was trying to swallow her down; there, the space cowboys were accosting their mates; there... Whoa. There, walking slowly through the gate was the most gorgeous bloke Bianca had ever seen, on a vidscreen or off. “Holy...cowboy,” she whispered.

  He was big, even for a Martian—well over two meters tall. He moved with the easy physical confidence of an athlete, his long limbs corded with muscle that his conservatively styled carbonsuit did not quite hide. Black hair swept away from his broad, straight forehead, gleaming with ruddy highlights as it brushed his strong neck.

  The black slashes of his brows, his firm, rounded jaw and slightly arched nose gave him a distinct don’t-feck-with-me aura, she thought. But his long, tilted brown eyes and wide, full mouth gave the opposite impression, making him look like he might crack a grin at any moment. His skin was a warm gold under the soft cel-lights.

  He stopped almost underneath where Bianca stood, rotating his thick shoulders a little as if stretching. She found herself leaning over the railing slightly to see him better, her travelpac wobbling under her elbows. He looks simply delicious. I wonder what he’d do if I skipped up and asked him for a taste.

  She was immediately shocked at herself.

  Bianca knew she was completely incapable of pulling off that kind of cheerful sleaziness, even if she was brave enough to try it. No, she would just have to content herself with ogling him from afar. That would be quite fun enough.

  As long as he doesn’t catch me at it. She leaned forward over the railing a little bit more.

  * * *

  Thank holy green Heaven, it’s finally over, Cesare thought. He had forgotten exactly how much he loathed space travel until this trip.

  The days since his elevator car had left the Martian gravity field had been wretched. While the other passengers had dined and gambled in the common rooms, swooping through the zero gravity with merry abandon, Cesare had been nauseated and growling to himself in his bunk net.

  But thankfully, the huge wheel of Eris space station rotated fast enough for the centrifugal force to provide a decent pseudogravity. He planted his feet on the floor with palpable relief, and shook off the dregs of his trip.

  Looking around curiously, he found himself in a huge, magnificent terminal chamber divided into an upper departure deck and a lower arrival deck. The walls were tiled in large magnesium plates engraved with arresting abstract designs, while the composite floors were inlaid with swirls of vibrant colors. Elegant looking plaz chairs were scattered around in informal groups. Travelers sprawled in their seats, or strode purposefully through the crowd, their voices rising up through the space in a cheerful din.

  Seemed that StarLine had done well with Eris Station, the bastards. It was cutting edge, and yet very tasteful. Almost impressive.

  He immediately checked that thought. He wouldn’t start acting like some duster rube gaping at the sights of the big city. He was the son of Shen Chan, and even though the old zazhong had all but disowned him, he was still the heir to the RedIce Mining Company. He held degrees in engineering and areology from the University of New Beijing. He wielded money and influence. There was no reason for him to be intimidated by the Ross’s big tech toy.

  Riiight. No reason. He looked down at his rough-and-tumble body sheathed in his unfashionable black carbonsuit and had to laugh at himself. When it came right down to it, he was just a duster from the Martian Outback suddenly thrust into the thick of civilization. It was ridiculously obvious that he didn’t belong there among the high and mighty spacers.

  And yet, here he was. Because hundreds of people were counting on him to protect them.

  All the humor of the situation abruptly vanished.

  Hell. How could he really think he was going to pry RedIce out of StarLine’s clutches? He was probably just going to prove that he was indeed the irredeemable feckwit his father thought him, and end up crushing the hopes of every last person who needed him.

  Cesare felt the familiar weight of responsibility descend on him, bearing him down as surely as the pseudogravity. And along with it came the familiar driving recklessness.

  Feck it. Tonight, after the first round meetings and negotiations were done, he would gather up the blokes on the legal team he had brought with him from Pavonis and they would all go rumble Eris’s nightside. He had to find something to make this place tolerable. Down a tab of e-morph, maybe. Roll around with a woman, like...like the spacebabe eying him from up there on the mezzanine.

  Ni hao, chic, he thought. Ni hao for sure. His gaze swept over long, long legs, sweet hips, a tiny waist, high, round bubs and slender arms all tucked nicely into a dove gray carbonsuit. She looked to be just under two meters tall, a perfect height to squeeze up against. His eyes moved to her face, and he blinked. This chic wasn’t a mere spacebabe. This was a great beauty.

  She had lovely features—curved cheeks, a delicate chin and a perfectly straight li
ttle nose. But her coloring was the loveliest of all. The fall of fine, lustrous hair that waved over her slim shoulders was so black it looked almost blue in the light. Her skin was clear and pale, with subtle pink tones just beneath the surface. Her full lips were a deep, natural red.

  He raised his eyes to hers. Dark, almond-shaped eyes fringed with black lashes looked down at him, wide with surprise. He found himself holding his breath. What would this refined beauty do? Look away in indifference? Smile politely?

  She blushed. Cesare watched, delighted, as a deep pink flooded up her long throat and over her cheeks. He grinned up at her, and she gasped. Actually gasped.

  Her slender fingers clenched on the travelpac she held balanced on the railing, and it wobbled precariously. She fumbled to steady it, but it was too late. The pac slipped off the railing, tumbling through space.

  Cesare instantly lunged forward and plucked the pac out of the air by the strap. Good reflexes serving once again! He let the pouch dangle from his fingers, and called up to the beautiful girl, “Caught it safe!”

  She blushed harder. “Um, could you just toss that back to me, please?” she said in a low, clear voice.

  “I’ll bring it right up, no worries.” He strode off quickly to catch the lift to the second level.

  She was still standing by the railing when he got off the lift. She turned toward him, alert and wary, like a little bird that might flit off if he moved too suddenly. He sauntered over to her and held out her pac. “Here it is,” he said. “Safe as gold.”

  She reached out and took it from him, the slightest tremor in her long, tapered fingers. “Thank you,” she said softly. Then she smiled at him, and Cesare felt his breath catch. Her red lips were so sweet. There were golden flecks in her dark brown eyes.

  Cesare realized he was staring. He reached for his usual lines. “There’s only one way you can thank me,” he said. “Have dinner with me tonight.”

  A series of emotions flickered across her face, too quick for him to catch. “Oh, I...I can’t. I’m leaving on the next car,” she said.

  Disappointment bit into him. “Then come have a drink with me,” he heard himself say. “For good luck on your trip down.”

  She hesitated. Then slowly she smiled that smile of hers again. “Why not?” she said.

  Cesare looked around and spotted a little café off to one side of the terminal. He gestured toward it. “Damsels in distress first,” he said. She arched her fine black brows at that, amused.

  She wove easily through the crowd to the café, and he followed, taking the opportunity to appreciate the sight of her very nice bum. When they got to the bar, she leaned back against it on her elbows and looked up at him with a slight challenge in her gaze.

  He tapped on the dispensary kiosk for two tubes of Hot Green, and eyed her as the bot filled his order. Usually he could read people very easily, but there was something about this chic that he couldn’t quite figure out. Her shy blushes and hesitant smiles were a contradiction to the confident way she moved and held herself, as if she owned everything in sight. Interesting.

  “What’s your name?” he asked.

  She started to say something, but then a little gleam appeared in her eyes. “Guess,” she said.

  He shook his head. “I’m no good at guessing games.”

  “What kind of games are you good at?” she asked in a low, playful tone.

  “Besides catch?” he said with a grin. “Hide and seek comes to mind. I’m good at seeking.”

  “I’m sure. As it happens, I’m good at hiding.”

  “Then I bet we could play one hell of a game.”

  She let out a small laugh. “Oh no. I wouldn’t dare.”

  “Too bad.” He got the drinks out of the dispenser and held one out to her. “Dare you to drink this up.”

  She peered at the tube of violently green liquor. “What is it?”

  “Hot Green. Worst best drink in the Martian Outback.”

  “Is it strong?”

  “Knock you all the way back down the elevator cable. Not spooked, are you?”

  “Hmm,” she said. She was blushing again, but she took the drink from him gamely enough. “All right then. To luck.”

  “To luck, and a quick trip back home.” He clicked his tube against hers.

  “I’ll drink to that,” she said, and to his surprise, downed the whole tube in one long swallow.

  He watched, fascinated, as her eyes watered and her face turned bright pink. She coughed delicately.

  “Damn good, ay?”

  “Piquant,” she remarked with cool composure. Then she spoiled the effect with a peal of sweet, genuine laughter.

  He grinned down at her. I do believe I like this chic, he thought.

  “Elevator car 731 now boarding,” a simulated voice announced.

  “That’s my car,” she said, dropping her tube in the recycler.

  The sharp disappointment returned. “Absolutely sure you can’t stay?”

  “I would like to, believe me.” Her gaze wandered around the terminal a little wistfully before returning to him. “But business is dragging me off.”

  Cesare nodded as a sudden unexpected empathy washed over him. “I know how you feel,” he murmured. Business could be a real puta. Look where his duty to his mines and his people had dragged him, after all. Straight up to Eris, the last place in the universe he’d go if he had a choice.

  Briefly, he wondered what kind of obligation had gotten its teeth into his beautiful spacebabe. But it was too late to ask her. She hooked that little travelpac over her shoulder, and looked up at him through her lashes. “Thanks again,” she said.

  Cesare lifted his tube to her. “See you around the Sol.”

  She slid him one last dazzling smile, then turned and walked away toward the departure gate.

  Cesare drained his tube, letting the alcohol and regret burn through him as he watched until the last glimpse of her shining dark head disappeared from his view. Too complicated anyway, he told himself. Right? Right.

  After a minute, he left the café, ready to track down his legal team. Surely they must all have gotten off the elevator car by now.

  As if Cesare’s thoughts had conjured him up, his lawyer and old university mate, Sam Briggs, suddenly appeared at his elbow. As usual, his eyes were locked on his cuff pad. “There you are,” he said. He shot a quick glance at Cesare, and frowned. “Why the aura of gloom, mate? I thought you’d be ecstatic to get back on dry land again.”

  Cesare turned to his old friend with a shake of his head. “Just contemplating how much heaven hates me.”

  “Ay, you have it real hard, you poor rich handsome zazhong,” Briggs murmured with a half-smile. He clouted Cesare lightly on the shoulder. “Come on. Let’s find our flats and get settled in. I set up a meeting with Victoria Ross’s personal assistant in an hour.”

  “Right. Let’s jump into it then,” he said.

  “Damn green. Remember—you’ve got the pledges, you’ve got the stocks and you’ve got the best damn lawyer on Mars on your team,” Briggs said, straightening his cuffs. “I guarantee you we can stop this takeover.”

  Briggs was right, Cesare thought. He could do this. He had to do this.

  He turned and nearly collided with the blocky form of a bloke who had been standing directly behind him. He drew up short, his nerves taut with instant wariness. The bloke was an Earther, nearly half a meter shorter than himself. But that wasn’t what bothered Cesare. What put him on edge was the man’s dark green security uniform.

  “Cesare Chan!” the stranger said in a blunt Earther accent. He smiled up at Cesare a little too widely.

  “Have we met?” Cesare asked, knowing very well that they hadn’t.

  “No, just knew it had to be you. Been keeping an eye out for a
pretty-looking mookie—I mean Martian—bloke in a bad suit.” He raked his eyes over Cesare and smirked. “I’m Javier Woods, security chief for StarLine.”

  Feck. That meant trouble. Like other Martian habitat cities and space stations, Eris had its own independently contracted security. Officially the habitats were under the jurisdiction of MarSec, but in reality, the hab sec chiefs could and did get away enforcing their own version of the law. And this one had singled him out.

  Trouble, sure. But nothing he couldn’t handle. He had tussled with hab sec a time or two in the Outback. He knew this dance.

  Woods thrust out his short, meaty hand. “Welcome to Eris!” he said.

  Cesare half smiled, and slowly reached out to shake hands. As he expected, Woods squeezed his fingers hard, trying to crush them in his grip. The man had the heavy bone and muscle developed in Earth’s high gravity, and he seemed to have no qualms about using his Earther strength to intimidate Martians.

  Fortunately, Cesare had been working and training with Earther miners since he was old enough to walk and he could easily match any Earther. He bore down hard on Wood’s hand, and had the pleasure of watching the bloke’s smirk turn to a look of pained surprise for a moment.

  Cesare broke the clasp, then smoothly turned and introduced Briggs and Briggs’s two assistants, who had quietly joined them. The three of them nodded greetings to Woods with wary eyes. None of them offered to shake hands.

  He turned back to the Earther with an easy smile. “What are you here for, M’Woods?” Had to be either spying or intimidation. Probably both.

  “Well, Cesare, Victoria Ross heard you want to make some trouble about your daddy selling us his company.” Woods paused, as if waiting for a response. When Cesare didn’t answer, he shrugged, and went on, “But you know old Vicki. Always wanting everyone to be happy with her arrangements. So, she sent me along to make sure you’re going to be happy while you’re on Eris.”

  I rate a warning from Victoria Ross’s top thug so soon after I get here? Well hell. I almost feel flattered, Cesare thought. “So you’re Victoria’s butler as well as her sec chief. Impressive. How about you fetch me a hot towel and a drink? That would make me real happy.”