Sharon Green - Diana Santee 2 - Gateway To Xanadu

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Diana Santee 2: Gateway to Xanadu
By Sharon Green
CHAPTER 1
By the time the gentle chime sounded that was obviously supposed to wake me, I was already up and
dressed. I didn't have much in the room that needed putting together, and that was mostly done, too.
Which was definitely a good thing, since I didn't know how to turn that gently chiming- alarm off. It
must have been set by Val before he left, and waking up to find him already gone had surprised me. As
excited as I felt about going home, I wouldn't have believed it possible for someone to leave that room
without waking me. If I'd slept alone the night before, I probably wouldn't even have slept.
I stuffed my spare ship's suit into the small monolon bag, smoothed the bag closed, then turned to look
over the blue-green, brown and white room one last time. I didn't really expect to see anything I'd
accidently left behind, and I didn't; I hadn't shared the room long enough with Val. The last look around
was a good-bye to most of the strangeness I'd run into there in the Absari base around Tildor, a volume
of space no one in my Federation knew anything about. I'd bumped into the Absari Watchers of the
backward planet, Tildor, had helped out with a chore on the planet, and now was heading back to my
Federation with a "Hi, there, neighbor!" letter of self-introduction from the Absari upper echelon. If
everyone on the Federation Council didn't faint dead away at being contacted by a previously unknown,
star-faring humanoid race, their expressions would be worth seeing. At least two-thirds of the Council
considered the possibility of meeting equals an amusing fictional notion, something to have fun with
while watching it on tri-v, but nothing to take seriously. I couldn't wait until they got a look at Val.
Sudden inspiration hit me at thought of Val, so I went back to the low, wide couch-bed we'd shared the
night before, sat down on it, then stood up again. The chiming cut off immediately, bringing me a
satisfied grin. Absari ways weren't Federation ways no matter now much the Absari looked like us, but a
little common sense sometimes helped bridge the gap between alien cultures. That was something I'd
have to remember during the next standard year, the time period Val would be partnering with me as an
agent for the Federation. A little common sense-and a lot of delicate, judicious handling-and his talent
could be put to use for the benefit of Federation.
Or, at least, one of his talents. I sat back down on the couch-bed and stretched out across it, folding my
arms above my head and grinning. Val's ability to change his features and appearance to match anyone
he cared to was a result of his original Absari blood; I'd have to ask him if his bed talent came from the
same source. I'd miss it when his year was up and he went back home, but I'd be able to look around for
an adequate replacement once I came back to the Absari Confederacy to work my own year for them. If
that particular talent really was in the blood, `I'd have one hell of a wild time during that
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The chiming started again so abruptly that I jumped, and this time it wasn't as sweet and mellow as it
had been the first time. I'd never before heard an annoyed alarm clock, but I knew damned well I was
hearing one then. I muttered a few words describing the personal habits of that alarm as I rose from the
bed, then included Val in for setting the damn thing in the first place. My eagerness to get going had
gotten me up, but I could still feel the drag of minus sleep beneath that eagerness, gluing shut my eyelids
and making me yawn. I hadn't slept very well in the days I'd waited for the Absari rep Phalsyn to get
there, and during that time I'd kept Val on the opposite side of the room with the well-known cold
shoulder-and a sincere promise to break off any extremities of his that I happened to find in grabbing
distance. He'd grinned at the promise, and had told me he could wait-which he did until last night, when
he made up for the wait. I couldn't honestly describe the time as wasted, but I'd needed the lost sleep
more.
I yawned again and shook my head, then grabbed up the monolon bag and headed for the door. I'd get all
the sleep I wanted or needed once we were on our way, and what I really needed right then was a cup of
coffee. The door slid open in front of me, giving me access to the hall of the residential section, which
led to the work area, which in turn led to the docking facilities. I didn't know how really early it was in
the base day until I walked past the offices in the work area and found most off them empty, no more
than the usual skeleton crew in the comm room. The small sounds of the base's life-support systems
bracketed the whisper of my deck shoes along the corridor carpeting, and the two men in the comm
room didn't even look up as I passed. I wondered if the early departure time had been Phalsyn's idea, the
intent being to get rid of the alien and the guinea pig with the fewest number of people watching,
keeping the gossip to a minimum. The base people would know Val and I were gone, but they would not
know where, at least until the formal talks started, and maybe not even then. If you think about how long
it takes most people to accept even the new family a few doors down, the idea of keeping as much as
possible secret for as long as possible begins to look a lot less unreasonable.
The docking area seemed just as empty as the office area had been, until I spotted Dameron leaning
against the hull of my ship, right beside the access hatch. The big man had his arms folded across the
chest of his dark blue base commander's uniform, studying the floor in front of his feet, the same
preoccupied air holding him that had held him the night before. Not until I stopped in front of him did
his eyes rise to my face.
"You're here sooner than Valdon thought you would be," he said, his broad face showing a hint of a
smile. "He only just entered the ship himself."
"Probably to double-check the work he did on it," I said, giving more in the way of a smile than I was
getting. "I don't blame him for not wanting to find out if he screwed up the hard way. Why don't you
come aboard and get your final good-byes said while I start the departure check?"
"They've already been said," he answered with a sigh. "All I have left are yours, along with a request or
two. You don't mind a request or two from a friend, do you?"
His dark eyes were studying me in a very sober, worried way. Considering the fact that Dameron knew
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more about what my line of work entailed than anyone else there, his worry had to be on behalf of my
new partner.
"If you don't mind, I'd like to hear what those requests are before I agree to them," I said, putting my fist
on my hip. "I'm not as silly as some people, who commit themselves before they know what they're
committing themselves to."
"Don't rub it in!" he growled, looking annoyed, but then he grinned and laughed softly: He'd been so
eager to do me a favor that he hadn't first asked what favor I had in mind, a silliness he'd be regretting
for some time to come. When you make a habit of keeping your word, you really should take a good
look around before giving it.
"Okay, okay, so I deserve to have it rubbed in," he conceded, one broad hand ruefully rubbing the back
of his neck. "That doesn't mean I also deserve to be haunted by this thing for the rest of my life. I'd like
to know just how deep a pit I dug for Valdon-and how good his chances are of climbing out again all in
one piece. He's one of the best field agents I've ever had, but I don't know if he's good enough to survive
at the level you seem to operate on. I still don't understand how you survive."
"That's easy," I told him with a wave of my hand. "I have the worst luck you've ever seen, always
picking the wrong side to bet on. Any time I'm about to get a really hairy assignment, I make sure to bet
someone that I'll finally get it so I don't. Works every time."
I grinned, but the good commander wasn't in the mood for a laugh. The look in his dark eyes hardened
as he began straightening himself in annoyance, so I waved my hand at him again.
"Come on, Dameron, let's be intelligent about this," I coaxed, letting some of the tiredness I felt come
into my voice. "I worked a long time at my job to get good enough to qualify for hyper-A assignments;
you can't really believe they'll let Val share them just because he's giant size and has all those pretty
muscles. He'll have to earn the right to put his neck on the line just like the rest of us, and by then it will
probably be time for him to come home. Chances are you'll have less cause to worry about him than you
would if you sent him back down to Tildor."
"But-you two are supposed to be partners," he protested, still seeming upset. "If you get one of those
assignments then he'll get it, or at least he'll decide he has it. He won't sit back and let you do it all
yourself, and you're crazy if you think he will. "
"Are you under the impression that I don't know what he's like?" I asked, a bit belligerently. "Have you
forgotten all the time we spent together down on Tildor? When I want Val out of the way I'll have him
out of the way, whether it makes him happy or not. On Tildor he had all of the advantages, but in the
Federation we'll be on my stamping grounds. I'm even willing to bet on it."
"I thought you always backed the losing side," he retorted, but a shadow of his old humor was back,
along with a fading of some of the worry. "I don't feel as much confidence as you seem to, girl, but for
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some reason I also don't feel as bad as I did. You're sure your people won't let him have any of these-
hyper-A assignments?"
"Positive," I answered, grinning briefly at the way Dameron pronounced 'hyper-A'. We were speaking
his base language, and there was no one-to-one translation for the phrase. "Hyper-A is short for 'high
percentage risk agent,' a nickname for Special Agents. It means that if the computers rate the
possibilities of success on an assignment at 9 percent or more against, that assignment is given only to a
hyper-A. We're the ones who have already proven we can survive against odds like that by doing it, and
the doing takes some doing. Val won't have the necessary time-or the opportunity. For the most part I
plan to use him as a distraction while I do the actual work, either with his talent in full play or just as he
is. A little less masculinity to his face, and he'd be downright pretty, and I can think of a lot of ways to
use something like that. I wonder if he could change himself to directions. "
"You've lost your mind, girl," Dameron interrupted my ranging thoughts, hauling me back to where we
were standing. He was looking straight at me, and his expression couldn't be interpreted as anything but
ridiculing. "I thought you said you knew Valdon," he demanded. "If you think he'll stand still for being a
flower boy in the background while you run around drawing fire from the enemy, you're out of your
mind! What do you think he is?"
"I thought he was the one you were so worried about," I retorted, staring at the base commander. "Have
you suddenly changed your mind, or am I going senile in my old age? I thought you wanted him out of
the line of fire-or haven't you decided yet what you want?"
"I do know what I want," he muttered. "But what I want isn't necessarily what he'll want. Or what either
of us would consider acceptable. Maybe I don't know what I want after all." He pulled his hand through
his hair with a harried gesture, then turned to me. "What exactly do you think of Valdon?"
"What's to think about him?" I asked with a shrug,-privately wondering if Dameron had started to lose
the marble game. "He's big, good-looking, has a talent I intend making use of- Hell, Dameron, I barely
know him. The only things we've really done together so far are argue and fight. I'll be able to do a
better job of giving an opinion if we ever manage to exchange more than a dozen words before the fur
starts flying. "
"But you've still let him bed you," the Commander pointed out, a flatness in the words. "That doesn't
jibe with the lack of opinion you claim to have. Or not have. Do you make a habit of spending bed time
with men you scarcely know?"
"Usually," I answered with a slow nod, now almost convinced the leash was slipping. "How many men
do you think I get to know well in my line of work? And what difference can a little sex make? Just
because a man's good in bed doesn't mean you'd trust your back to him. Sex is nothing more than an
exercise for two-or three, or five, or however your tastes run. Haven't you learned that yet?"
"That particular outlook doesn't necessarily come about through mature experience," he said, a
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gentleness and something that seemed to be pain looking out of his eyes. "Some people are raised to
consider it a good deal more than casual exercise, more than something to be indulged in even between
virtual strangers. If you ever get to the point of gaining true mature experience, you might learn that."
"Do you mean I'll learn that some men consider a roll in the hay the equivalent of a life commitment?" I
asked, letting most of the friendliness drain out of my tone. "I've already learned that, friend, and also
learned to stay away from that sort. The only thing I'm interested in commiting to is what I've already
committed to, and there's no room in that sort of life for distractions. The-`level I operate on' makes
other commitments impractical, especially long-term ones. My body has certain needs, and I see to them
whenever I like the looks of available partners; if you're thinking about telling me that Val has kept
himself pure waiting for his one true lady love, you have a shock coming. No man ever got to his level
of expertise by abstaining, and please note that we're not discussing opinion. I've had to acquire a certain
level of expertise myself to satisfy certain of my job requirements, and I can assure you that I know what
I'm talking about."
"I don't doubt that," he answered, amused now. "And I didn't mean to imply that Valdon was a sheltered
innocent. The reactions of the field team girls he paired with made that clear enough."
"Then what were you implying?" I asked, genuinely curious. If there was a point to the conversation I'd
been a part of for the last few minutes, it would have been nice knowing what it was.
"What makes you think I was implying anything?" he countered, more amused, calmly folding his arms
again. "I just happened to be taking the opportunity to voice a couple of my own opinions. I didn't say
they had anything to do with Valdon. You'll see to it, then, that your people don't let him get in over his
head?"
"Cross my heart and hope to spit wooden nickels," I promised, holding up my free hand. "Was that all
you were looking for, a promise to protect your delicate little former second, and a true, unvarnished
declaration on my philosophy of life'? No sworn blood oaths that I return him as sweet and untarnished
as I'm getting him?"
"Your penchant for sarcasm must find you almost as much trouble as your line of work," Dameron
remarked, looking down at me with seeming annoyance, and then the twinkle came back. "No, I don't
need an oath like that from you about Valdon; I already have one from Valdon about you. Some of us
still believe in the basic premise that women are there to be looked after and protected."
I stared at him in a disbelieving way for a minute, then burst out laughing. His dark brows lowered over
his eyes in a frown that showed lack of understanding, causing me to laugh even harder, then shake my
head at him.
"That's a hell of a sentiment to be coming from the man who deliberately set me up to be attacked by
sword-swinging baddies," I pointed out when I could, still chuckling. "Not to mention the enslavement
part. Are you sure you're not talking about Val this time?"
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