ByKristine Williams2000 All Rights Reserved
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Alex was angry. He stared into his glass of whiskey and saw his own brooding facereflecting darkly back at him in the ice. When his mood was this black, few peopledared approach him with anything less than extremely good news. He knew thatbecause they told him, well after his mood had changed. But he'd never noticedthat mood staring back at him from the ice slowly diluting very old scotch beforenow.Never noticed his father's eyes in that angry reflection.He lifted the glass in a toast to no one. "I hope you're in hell, old man." Thescotch was downed in one swallow, but the reflection remained, clinking up againstthe sides of an empty glass. Alex caught the eye of a waitress and motioned for arefill. The burning in his throat felt perfectly appropriate, considering hismood, and he'd just decided a good hangover might do the trick. Drinking to excessnever solved a problem, but the pain it caused the next morning justified a rottenmood. Right now he wanted to brood. He wanted to sit there and contemplate thefact that--sometime between last night and five hours ago--fate had, for no reasonhe could think of, kicked him in the ass. Or was it destiny? He could never quitefigure out which one hated him so much. Perhaps they conspired?"Here you are, sir. I'll charge it to your cabin." The waitress deposited thefresh drink and paused just long enough to touch the bottle on her trayquestioningly.Alex nodded, neatly avoiding eye contact. She left the bottle on his table andvanished rather quickly into the small crowd. He was working up a greatreputation. A mere two hours into the trip and already on his second waitress. Nomatter. Casual conversation wasn't something he could tolerate right now. Helooked at the ice again, wondering why the angry man looking back at him didn'tjust go drink in his room and leave these good people alone to enjoy their cruise."Alex?"A female voice interrupted his attempt to swallow the dark ice-face. Alex lookedup sharply, fully prepared to send whoever it was away so he could be alone withhis misery."Alex Marcase? It is you! I was just telling my father the other day you werearound this neck of the universe." The tall blonde with perfectly manicuredfingernails slid gracefully and without invitation into the seat beside Alex andsmiled her best debutante smile."Miranda?" Alex blinked, unsure if the slight aura around the woman's face was dueto the dim lighting of the cruiser's bar or a testament to the quality of thescotch."You remembered." Miranda Carpenter reached out a delicate hand and lightlytouched his arm. "It's been years.""Twelve, I think." Reluctantly, the glass of whiskey was set aside. He forced aslight smile and tried to appear pleased to see her.Miranda moved her head from side to side slowly. It was a gesture designed toimpart a sense of sadness at the length of passed time since their last meetingwithout actually expressing any true regret. After a perfectly timed pause only alifetime of high society could cultivate, her gaze drifted over his head. "Youremember my father, don't you?"So much for a nice, quiet, solitary evening of getting drunk. Alex looked up, thentried to stand before he was waved back down by the tall gentleman now easinghimself down in the chair beside Miranda. "Mr. Carpenter, good to see you again,sir," he lied and shook the man's hand."Marcase. I'm surprised to find you on a cruise at a time like this. You should begetting ready to leave port on the Ascalon, shouldn't you? I'd heard Franklin was
getting his ship ready."This was definitely a twisted union between fate and destiny. And both were stilllaughing at him. He was sure he could hear them. "I wish I was, sir." Alexadjusted his expression now that there was a man sitting at the table. A man ofwealth and position, but still a man who could understand the dark mood of anotherman, and not take feminine offense at his demeanor. "This isn't a cruise, just anunexpected trip." He straightened slightly and glanced at the glass of whiskeywaiting patiently for his attention. "Believe me, I'd much rather be warming upthe engines myself.""Must be an important trip, to take you away at a time like this." Carpenter'seyebrows arched upwards, opening the offer for elaboration. "The Pendulum Nebula,isn't it?""Is that your latest goal, Alex?" Miranda purred, leaning back in her seat. "Tobeat Franklin to the Nebula?"Alex grinned ruefully and rested the tips of his fingers on the glass in front ofhim. "Not to it, Miranda, through it." He glanced knowingly at her father. "I'mwilling to stake my reputation on finding Turbidium out there."Paulson Carpenter knew as well as anyone did what Alex Marcase's reputation wasworth. No matter what opinion was held regarding his lineage, or what onespeculated about his personality, his reputation was widely known and wellrespected."Actually I'm inclined to believe you." The elder man dipped his head in a slightbow. "The scans are vague enough to make its exploration intriguing. Who's yourbacker?"Alex's face darkened. Sarcasm was threatening to ooze into his voice and he wasloath to deny it the opportunity. "I'm still open, sir. You don't happen to have afew million credits in need of a use?" A small voice deep inside his mind insistedhe share his scotch if he was going to hit the man up for funding. He killed itbefore it could argue."Is that what this trip is for? To drum up funding for your next exploration?"Miranda adjusted her delicate hands as they rested on thin knees. "I thought yourmother was holding a dinner so you could rub elbows with the elite?"The ice busily diluting old Earth scotch on the table in front of Alex shifted itsposition impatiently."Elbows are being rubbed as we speak." Alex tried a smile, but it didn't fit."She's holding the dinner, and not too pleased that I'm not there." He looked ather father again, arching one eyebrow. "I can beat him. Franklin's ship might befast, but he's predictable. He's always been predictable.""I'm sure you can. He's the only pilot who could ever compete with you. And youbeat him to Carmex 6 by three days, everyone heard about that.""Three days that cost his investors seventeen billion credits. The EliasCorporation has a new system to mine and unlimited employment security for thenext hundred years thanks to my beating Franklin there." Alex paused to listen tothe little voice he thought he'd killed flop about in protest. He really hadn'tcome here to talk shop, or find a new financial backer to get his next voyage paidfor. And he wasn't in any kind of mood to take advantage of the only situation hefound himself in. He was beginning to wonder if jettisoning himself out thenearest airlock might not solve everything rather quickly. The only problem withthat plan was the fact that it would then leave Jason Franklin with the mostlikely chance of discovering what lay beyond the Pendulum Nebula first. Alexcouldn't live with that.He couldn't die with it either."So what could possibly be so important as to drag you away from your ship at atime like this?"Alex clamped his teeth down hard and let an index finger slide around the rim ofthe glass. The Carpenters were members of a very small group of people who knewexactly who his father was. He hated that they knew. He hated that anyone knew.But at least, this time, he didn't have to mentally search his stock of forged
replies."My father. He died." He forced his gaze off the ice and made eye contact. "I gota call this morning. They said it was imperative that I take possession of theestate immediately. I think his old partners are circling the corpse orsomething." That was a mental picture he wanted to hang on to. It kept him fromcompletely regretting his decision to accept the inheritance.. Carpenter pursed his lips and nodded, knowingly. "He had no others, then?"Alex shook his head and let his gaze return to the scotch. "None he registered,anyway.""But he was wealthy, wasn't he?" Miranda's question belied her own knowledge ofthe man. "I mean, you're heading out there now, when you should be launching forthat Nebula. So it must be worth it." She leaned forward and lowered her voice."It is worth it, isn't it?""Miranda.""Don't scold, father." Miranda sat back in her seat, looking petulant. "I was justthinking if his father's estate is worth what I'm betting it is, he could justfund that expedition himself.""I really don't know what he was worth." Alex lied while meeting her gaze."Yes, of course." Miranda's father, at least, understood these things. "I tell youwhat. Miranda and I are going to visit her aunt, at Sirui. We'll be on this shipwhen it makes the round trip back. If you're onboard, and you haven't foundfunding for this exploration of yours, we'll talk. I could do with another taxbreak."Alex looked up, eyebrows creeping up in hopeful surprise. "I might take you up onthat, sir."Carpenter stood, motioning to his daughter. "We'll talk more about the prospectslater." He glanced pointedly at the bottle of scotch. "Come along, Miranda." Whenshe failed to respond, he reached for her arm. "Can't you see this man would liketo be alone?""I'll be along shortly, father." Miranda shot him a look, but leaned closer toAlex, smiling. "We haven't seen each other in years, there's a lot to catch upon."Father and daughter shared a momentary stare that appeared to communicate on alevel Alex could only imagine. He knew if you were close to someone, close enoughto really know someone, you could practically communicate without words. But he'dnever experienced that intimacy himself.Of course, he had nothing to communicate either verbally or otherwise with MirandaCarpenter. Fate, destiny and every other force both real and imagined had placedMiranda right in the center of wealth and position. Her family had known privilegefor generations, and showed no signs of regret. Alex's mother had seen to it hewas raised as close to money as she could manage, being somewhat touched by wealthherself. But most people understood her grasp on the position was tenuous at best.She afforded Alex the opportunities he'd needed to gain scholarships and luckybreaks, and sustained a position high enough to bring her into the proper circleswhere important elbows could be rubbed.But he'd never been particularly friendly with any of them himself. And if morehad known exactly who his father was, aside from the Carpenters and one or twoothers, he knew what little position he'd had would have collapsed years ago.Alex poured another glass of whiskey and watched the new chunks of ice settle intoposition."Do you always drink scotch?" Miranda was on the bed in his small cabin, stillwrapped in the shimmering white sheet. Her idea of catching up had involved verylittle conversation."Only when I'm angry." Alex turned to face her and leaned back against the liquorcabinet."I hope you're not angry with me." She moved her legs until they were underneathher, then flicked some hair from one shoulder.
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Keeper
The first book in the sha'erah series by Kristine Williams. It was formerly available from her website.
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