Ambasadora (Book 1 of Ambasadora) (4 page)

She barely noticed the pinch of
the tiny needle or the endorphin stimulants pumping into her bloodstream.

“Let me see what damage she
did.” He lifted the towel and set it aside. A brief sadness crossed his
face. After a careful inspection of her cuts, he grabbed a crystal atomizer
from the wash stand and sprayed her legs with an analgesic.

“You’ll still feel some
pain, but that should help until the stims flood your system.”

Rainer was always gentle when
ministering to her wounds, but very clinical. When his actions became too
tender, his touch too caressing, he detached himself from the work and became
methodical. Nevertheless, she craved his touch, any touch besides that of her
tormentor.

“Thanks,” she
whispered.

“Hold onto my neck.” He
lowered her into the tub.

As the warm water inundated the
shallow cuts, bright red clouded the bath. The shock sent her head spinning.
Her fingers dug into Rainer’s neck, and he waited for her to relax before
pulling away.

“I take it you haven’t told
Faya what she wants to know yet.” Rainer moved toward the tall cabinet to
the right of the tub.

Suspicion crept into Sara’s
ailing mind. Was this part of Prollixer’s ploy? Faya roughed her up, then Rainer
would come in as trusted healer.

“I’ve told her everything I
know about Chen. And I don’t know anything about
Simon’s
curse.”
Her voice broke when saying the Sovereign’s given name, but the endostims
kicked in enough to make the insult sound strong. “I just hope he dies
from it.”

“He might.” Rainer left
the room.

Maybe Simon figured the male
contractor could seduce information from her that Faya couldn’t procure through
behavior modification. Only, Rainer had never tried to seduce Sara. In fact, he
always turned down
her
physical advances.

How could she blame him? She’d
bashed every mirror in this suite just so she wouldn’t catch a glimpse of
herself. With a sick little look, she spotted a brand new shiny mirror above
the sink. Simon always made sure to replace them just before she returned from
another torture session.

Rainer stood over the tub with a
crystal shaker and poured a silvery powder into the water. Sara held her breath
in anticipation of the burn from the metallic antiseptic, but its pinch was
subtle compared to the chlorate. When Rainer turned off the water, the silence
was stark and unnerving.

“I believe you don’t know
anything more,” he said.

His words almost stopped her
heart.

“Otherwise, why put yourself
through all this? To cover for a man who left you to die? A man who led you to
believe he’d have a child with you.” Rainer swirled the powdery solution
around her legs.

The burn in Sara’s heart matched
the sensation on her sliced skin. She couldn’t even think of Chen without
wanting to wrap her hands around his throat and crush the life from him. The
sudden surge of emotion brought with it a panic, and panic often brought on—

She looked to Rainer, then past
him into the bedroom.
It
was there.

Her body shook as she stared at a
hovering orb of light, no larger than a pebble. The expanding sphere drifted
toward them. Rainer scanned the room, even drawing one of his cenders.

He couldn’t see it.

On some level she understood it
was just another deranged image in her mind, but that didn’t make her reaction
any less real.

The fragger energy orb augmented,
its speed increasing, until it hurled its room-sized mass directly at her. She
threw her hands in front of her face, afraid its energy would char her body as
it had those contractors on Palomin’s rim.

“Sara.” Rainer’s voice
sounded distant, like he still fought to be heard over running water.
“Sara, there’s nothing there.”

He pulled her dripping arms from
her face and tilted her head up. “Look at me. Sara, look at me.”

Ashamed of her scarred visage,
she twisted out of his grasp. Scraping at her legs drew fresh blood and calming
pain.

Rainer grabbed her hand to stop
her. “What did you see?”

She shook her head and closed her
eyes.

“Tell me what you saw.”

“A fragger orb.” The
absurdity of it disgusted her.

“Do you still see it?”

“No,” she said, then
defiantly, “Do you?”

Rainer ignored the question and
took a fresh towel from the cabinet. With careful hands, he helped her out of
the tub. Her legs still screamed with pain, but she could at least stand if she
leaned up against him. That physical contact felt better than the stims, than the
pain. He wrapped her legs in silky gauze then guided her around the broken
glass and into the bedroom. She rested her head on his shoulder.

He held her with one arm while he
turned down the bed with the other. When he laid her down, she held onto his forearm
and rubbed her thumb over the fine dark hairs.

“Can’t you stay with me a
little longer? Just hold my hand, until I fall asleep?” She craved
affection, gentleness, someone to hold her and say it would be okay.

Rainer stared at her, his
expression unreadable. “This is business, Sara. The healthier you are, the
stronger you’ll be to defy Faya.”

“I’m not defying her.”
The thought was more absurd than a fragger orb detonating inside the room.
“I don’t know anything, including why Faya’s failure is so important to
you.”

“That’s business, too.
Mine.”

“Would it be different if I
didn’t look like this?” She placed a shaking hand on his, trying to hold
onto its warmth. “I just need someone to be near me.” She wanted her
mother, her father, one of her cousins, even her sister to hold onto right now.
Most of all, she wanted Rainer because he was here and he was always the one to
take her pain away, to listen to her ravings.

A commotion in the hallway put
them both on alert.

Rainer tugged his hand away and
looked at her. Not quite a look of pity, but it still stung. “I’ve been
here too long already,” he said. “If the Sovereign knew about this,
we’d both be dead. You won’t need me soon. He has other plans for you, ones
that don’t involve torture…or at least not like this.”

Watching him leave, Sara couldn’t
even muster the strength to care what the Sovereign would do to her next.

A faint blue ellipse decorated a
large circle of pavement outside the Embassy’s expansive halfmoon-shaped
complex. Rainer caught glimpses of the faded symbol within a mix of drably
dressed Embassy staff, flamboyant Socialites, and black-clad contractors.
Bodies crisscrossed in kaleidoscopic regularity to and from the ferries and
ship berths at Shiraz Dock here within the Hub.

Tampa Quad’s largest urban center
used to be a different kind of hub. Rainer formed a vague image from stories his
family told of archivist ships constantly arriving and departing from the
system’s six moons, before Sovereign Archivist Simon Prollixer dropped the archivist
part of his title and managed to gain control from a council too willing to
give up its power. Now there was only the Sovereign.

Like Sara, Rainer didn’t believe
Prollixer deserved his manufactured title.

Thinking of her brought mixed
feelings, ones he pushed aside as he passed the defunct landing pads and
avoided the commonways used by most pedestrian traffic to the Hub. He never
entered via the grand main entrance with its sparkling chalcedony wall,
preferring to maneuver through the Hub’s underground tunnels. Head Contractor
had its privileges, including access to places most citizens couldn’t imagine.

Though Prollixer originally
commissioned the tunnels’ construction for quick getaways at the onset of his
takeover, he now preferred to be as high profile as possible in order to bask
in the appreciation of his citizens. Maybe he forgot that not everyone
celebrated the regime change like he did.

Contractors and fraggers
protested the loudest; Prollixer made sure to turn one against the other very
early. Those contractors who found working for the Embassy too restrictive left
the guild to become rogues for hire. At first, Prollixer denied marriage rights
to the rogues, but quickly changed policy after the guilders threatened to
mutiny as well. Once any group of Uppers was denied rights, others could easily
follow.

The Sovereign might pay Embassy
contractors to be loyal, but no price was worth losing their family privileges.
It was too much like what had happened on the worldships when the diseases ran
unchecked and the quarantines were first enforced. A negative growth in
population left the citizenry in serious jeopardy of extinction.

Without the archivists’ History
lessons, the Sovereign might have thrown the population into decline, or worse,
allowed the purer lines to become tainted. Reinforcing the need to marry within
one’s caste and with multiple partners ensured a thriving populace among the
six moon-planets. Of course interpretation of
caste
varied. Most took it
to mean any from the Upper Caste, but family circles consisting mostly of
Embassy contractors took the mandate to a new level, nearly becoming a
sub-class themselves. Most of them formed their family circles with other
contractors exclusively. Rainer’s family subscribed to this tradition, as was
evidenced by the lineages of his amours.

Three figures rounded the corner
ahead. Few traveled the featureless white corridors with their overly bright
ceiling lights, so Rainer often used his transit time down here to disconnect
from everything, allow his mind to rest and wander. It annoyed him to have this
meditation interrupted, especially today.

The approaching forms became
recognizable as Archivist Phoebe Lewellyn and her contractor bodyguards.

The woman’s blue-streaked blonde
hair almost glowed in the harsh lighting.

“Hello, Contractor
Varden.” Phoebe motioned her escort ahead. “May we speak?”

The mayfly holo-broach securing
her pink wrap fluttered its wings.

“I have a few moments before
the Sovereign expects me.” Rainer kept the movement of Phoebe’s bodyguards
in sight at all times.

“The Sovereign hasn’t been
himself recently. He dismissed the quorum today without even making an
appearance. I hope he’s not still ill.” The gaze of her dark green eyes
watched Rainer closely, but he was too disciplined to display any tells.

“He was fine when I saw him
yesterday. He’s a busy man.”

“Too busy to meet with his
own advisors?”

“Maybe he no longer needed
your advice.” Rainer and Phoebe both knew the Quorum of Archivists served
only as figureheads to make Prollixer’s rule fall more into line with the
History teachings. There had always been archivists, would always be. Even the
Sovereign couldn’t change History, but he could decide how History was
interpreted, like giving the other archivists no real political
responsibilities.

“Anything else?” Rainer
asked.

“No, just my concern for our
dear Sovereign. Good day.”

Rainer had regarded the woman
with suspicion for some time. Normally his instincts were dead on. He imagined
it wouldn’t be long before Archivist Lewellyn met with misfortune.

Within the medical suite, Rainer
followed a white beam of horizontal light as it passed over Sara’s naked form
and projected its readings into the air above her. A doctor studied the scan
silently.

Sara’s will to survive continued
to impress Rainer. An urge surfaced to touch her hand, but he quelled it
immediately. Each time he had left her at Prollixer’s mercy he took with him
the memory of her touch; the pressure, the swish of her thumb, the signaling of
need. The power he held to elevate her mood, take away her pain, and give her
hope fed his emotions almost as much as his ego.

A hint of roses enveloped her,
thanks to new scentbots. Breathing a little deeper, he couldn’t remember how
she smelled before. It didn’t matter; this smell was as fresh and new as her
body. He stared at every detail of her.

The changes to her appearance
played with him. Her lips were fuller, her nose a little wider. And the scars
were all gone.

Sara’s reconstruction didn’t
technically constitute a breach in law. Allowances were made for little fixes
all the time, but her alterations took away any natural attributes she had once
had, at least so far as Rainer was concerned. Mores and tradition still held
more sway with him than laws.

Seeing her lying there both
excited and disturbed him.

“How is my newest
ambasadora?” the Sovereign asked from the doorway.

The doctor stood straighter.

Rainer stepped back from the
post-op table and avoided Prollixer’s stare.

“I didn’t expect you to
personally check on…I mean, you didn’t visit any of the other
ambasadoras,” the doctor said.

The Sovereign made no response.

The doctor cleared his throat and
continued. “She’ll be coming out of the anesthesia soon.”

“The implantation was
successful?” Prollixer walked over to the bed where Sara lay, exposed and
vulnerable in her drug-induced sleep.

The doctor peeled back the single
bandage covering her right arm. “Yes, all the cells grafted well. And, as
you can see, the intra-tattoo’s design is flawless.”

“How can you tell with all
the bruising?”

Hundreds of puncture wounds in
varying shades of purple and black covered her entire arm from the back of her
hand to her shoulder. The site of more marks marring Sara’s new skin angered
Rainer.

“It looked much better when
the light matrix covered her skin during insertion. But, not to worry, the
contusions should heal quickly.”

“Fine. Now, if you wouldn’t
mind leaving us.”

“Yes, Sovereign.”

Prollixer waited until the doctor
left the room. “Contractor Varden, what do you think of my modifications?”