Reap the Whirlwind

Abruptly, the music from the stage faltered, the piano going silent first and the other instruments rapidly falling away after it. Reyes looked up as T’Pry

“I won’t ask you to sign the treaty,” he said, calmly setting aside his own menu. “You made it clear the colonists don’t want it, and I won’t ask you to betray their trust.”

She eyed him with a confused expression—a rare look for her, in his experience. “Then what is it you want?”

“Don’t go to Gamma Tauri,” he said, purging his mind of all words and images, leaving only his focused, sincere concern for her well-being. “When the Terra Courser ships out, stay here.”

Jea

“I can’t tell you,” he said, continuing to focus on imparting the verity of his words. “Not even vaguely. But you know I won’t lie to you, I never have…. Don’t go.”

Fear softened the resolve in her eyes, but she shook her head. “I want to believe you, Diego,” she said. “But how can I when you won’t tell me why? I know you never lied to me, but I know you’ve kept things from me, too.”

“Never anything that would hurt you,” he said. “Only what I had to, for the uniform.”

A cold and bitter glare returned to her gaze. “So you always said. But how could I ever know, Diego?”

“If you don’t know that about me,” he said, “then I guess we were never really married.”

Stung by his words, she got up from her chair. “You want to know why I divorced you?” She flung her napkin into his lap. “It wasn’t ’cause I stopped loving you. It was ’cause I realized you loved your secrets more than you loved me.” She started to leave, then turned back. “I’m touched that you care enough to try to save me, Diego, but I’m hurt that you don’t care enough to tell me the truth.”

“It’s not that simple, Jea

“Sometimes it is.”

He sat stu

Alone at his table, Reyes picked up his wine. He took a sip, then looked across the table and noticed that Jea

Manón asked, “Dining alone this evening, Commodore?”

He frowned. “Why should tonight be any different?” The hostess offered a comforting smile and reached out to start clearing away the table’s second place setting. “Wait,” Reyes said, feeling the word burst from his mouth before he could stop it. I’m tired of living like a prisoner on my own station, he decided. Jea

Raising a curious, slender eyebrow at the commodore’s request, Manón inquired, “Shall I tell the captain this is a professional summons?”

“No,” Reyes said. “Definitely not. Just tell her…it’s my turn to buy di

T’Pry

Opportunities to play had been scarce of late. Her duties had become all-consuming since the Endeavour’s mission to Erilon. Lacking the regular outlet of playing the piano to ease her agitated thoughts, she had become profoundly tense and withdrawn in recent weeks. Adding to her stress was Sandesjo’s increasingly ardent attachment to her.

I see the hunger in your eyes when you come to me at night, Sandesjo had said, her words pointed with accusation. There had been no denying her observation; T’Pry

Music was T’Pry

A rare break in her schedule had afforded her an hour to play tonight in Manón’s, and she had taken advantage of it without hesitation. The scheduled quartet’s regular piano player had graciously permitted her to sit in for the first set, and she had paid for his di

From time to time she stole glances at the crowd, not to gauge their reactions to her music but just to remain aware of her surroundings; her profession demanded that she be ever attentive and take no detail for granted. Most of the patrons tonight were civilians. A fair number of station perso

T’Pry

She was less than a minute into Gene Harris’s arrangement of “Black and Blue” when it became apparent to her that the commodore’s di

She was considering trying to soften her attack on the keys and mute her playing slightly so that she could eavesdrop when Manón seated another couple directly in her line of sight. As the hostess stepped clear, T’Pry

Sten’s elbow crushes against my temple—

A jolt of psychosomatic pain tore through T’Pry

Willpower alone kept her eyes open, though her face tensed with the effort of masking her agony. Without preamble or apology she closed the keyboard cover, pushed the bench away from the baby grand, stood, and walked off the stage without another look at Sandesjo. Every step brought another stabbing psychic assault, pushing her deeper into herself. Only her most consuming effort enabled her to see the narrow stretch of path ahead of her as she hurried across the manicured lawn of Vanguard’s vast terrestrial enclosure.