Chapter 3

His morning may have been heartbreaking, but Kita had given him one benefit. She had torn the blinders from his eyes and that little, humiliating gift would make a great difference in the rest of his stay on Tourmaline.

He first noticed the overly familiar greeting from Connor, the FAD hanger supervisor who wanted to take a closer look at his cargo hold. Jorie had no doubt that the man wanted the inside track in the betting pool. Instead of letting him scan the hold for any samples from the field, Jorie locked the cargo door with a private code. In fact, Jorie made no comment at all about his foray.

"Is Vantis in his office?" was all Jorie said.

With a shrug of thwarted curiosity, Connor turned and walked back to his work area. Score one for the naïve archeologist.

The sun was nearing noon. Jorie dropped off his personal gear and then went into the commissary for a quick, tasteless lunch. He scanned the room looking for a lunch mate but realized there wasn't one person with whom he wanted to sit. They all looked like they came from a herd of domesticated pack beasts, chewing their cud.

Vantis was different. The gel in his black hair was a reminder of the oiliness that lurked underneath that skull. After discussing some bureaucratic-babble such as time trajectories and strategic implementation initiatives on a shortened time scale, Jorie slid the briefing notes for the tour guide gig under his arm and left.

Jorie reviewed the biographies and the pictures of his new clients in the solitude of his room. Dothan Volentin was a pure blood royal; the last name said it all. This was the first, non-news vid picture of a royal that Jorie had ever seen and he was captivated. With one look at the thin scars he knew that the legends of the Volentin dynasty were true. The Volentin family were said to be violent, fanatic, and near sadistic in their relations among themselves. Secession didn't go from father to first son automatically, or even to any son necessarily. Each time the emperor or empress died, the next one was chosen behind closed doors where they battled each other with primitive knives.

Jorie put the picture down and held up the other photo. It showed a woman who was stunning in a porcelain manner. With an eye trained to identify and gauge symmetry, he could see that she was an example of perfection. The face appeared to be an exact oval framed by light brown hair that draped the sides of the face and curled under her chin. The eyes were bright, as if the blue of the irises was powerful enough to suck all will out of a man. The bone structure was delicate and the eyebrows thin, but not severe. This was a woman fit only for a royal. Her name was Mista Dreamwood.

Glancing at the time on his sat phone, Jorie noted three hours of free time before he had to introduce himself to these trendy know-nothings with a galaxy's worth of money and power through 22,500 square kilometers of surveyed terrain.

He didn't know what to do with himself. Survey reports would be mostly blank. Acquisition requests would be minimal and probably not necessary since his cargo hold was still stocked. He had no reason to research the databases.

Hot tea. He wanted a glass of hot yerti tea. Yerti was one of the few grand discoveries of Tourmaline. It was an easily cultivated bush with a spicy zest when steeped and a caffeine-like boost. The leaf might actually have caffeine, which would be a wicked coincidence to explain, but Jorie had never bothered to inquire further. He just drank the stuff.

He walked into the empty commissary, relieved that he didn't have to talk to anyone. He poured some hot water and plucked a leave from the bush sitting in a flowerpot on the counter. With his back to the door, Jorie meant to ignore anyone who walked in the door.

The screen door slammed and Jorie hunched over his tea, breathing the tangy fumes deep into his lungs. Tempting as it was, he refused to look up. But the person walked over and sat down directly across from him.

"Still mad at me?" Kita asked.

"I'm not a happy camper," Jorie said, hoping to avoid answering the question because he really didn't know the answer.

After storming out on her today, Jorie didn't expect her to seek him out. According to the rules of the universe as he understood them, she was supposed to ignore him or stab him in the back. He sipped his tea and, oddly, the taste immediately reminded him of Kita, yesterday. He blushed.

"I found out a little about your two new charges," Kita said. When Jorie didn't reply, she kept on talking. "The man looks like the walking wounded."

"I saw his picture. Royals battle each other with knives and wear their scars like medals," Jorie said.

"Yeah, but he also talks in one word sentences and otherwise acts like he is a zombie," Kita said.

Jorie looked up and into her eyes, willing himself not to melt.

"I won't worry about having to make conversation with him then. Life is good."

"The woman has every warm blooded male and even a few females panting in heat. She does all the talking and, if Connor is to be believed, she's an ice queen."

"If I had Connor slobbering over me, I'd be a bitch, too. In fact, just having Connor make eye contact with me from a distance is enough to skeeve me out," Jorie said.

"True. She scared him though, and I've never seen him frightened of a woman before," Kita said.

Jorie swallowed the rest of his tea. "I like her better already. She sounds like she is the kind of woman a man would appreciate having around in these hostile climes."