Firefly - Carnival E-Book

Una McCormack

• Herausgeber: Titan Books
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Seitenzahl: 362

Beschreibung

A heist goes badly wrong in a captivatingly original tie-in novel from the award-winning series. Join the crew of the Serenity in this epic race across the universe as they fight and haggle to save Zoë and Book from an impossible ransom. City of sin Neapolis: a desert city on planet Bethel where all manner of entertainment can be found: high-stakes gambling, luxurious hotels, exclusive clubs and any form of diversion imaginable may be had for a price. It's the eve of the annual carnival: three days of decadent revelry, and Serenity arrives to take a security job, guarding a costly shipment. An unattainable ransom Tragedy strikes: the shipment is stolen, and the wealthy owner kidnaps Zoë and Book, holding them to ransom for the lost shipment's value. If Mal can't find the enormous sum of five hundred platinum by the next evening, both of them will be killed. A race against time As the carnival begins the crew must attempt the impossible, calling on contacts, calling in favours, and revealing hidden talents to save their crewmates' lives. Meanwhile, the hostages have their own plans…

Leseprobe

CONTENTS

Cover

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Title Page

Leave us a Review

Copyright

Dedication

Author’s Note

Firefly - Carnival

Acknowledgements

About the Author

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Firefly: CarnivalHardback edition ISBN: 9781789095098E-book edition ISBN: 9781789095104

Published by Titan BooksA division of Titan Publishing Group Ltd144 Southwark Street, London, SE1 0UP.

First edition: November 20211 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

© 2021 20th Television. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

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DEDICATED TO

the Whitecrow crew, the very best band of rebels

AUTHOR’S NOTE

The events in this novel take place during theFirefly TV series, before the episode “Heart of Gold”.

Elsewhere in the city of Neapolis, people were getting ready for the party. Not here. Here, in a narrow back street, underneath the bright bunting and the red-and-yellow hanging flowers, Ava Jones was running for her life.

Ava was fourteen years old and very frightened. She’d arrived in the city from the sticks less than two hours ago. This was not the exciting adventure she’d dreamed of, but a terrifying encounter with people who meant her harm. People who were chasing after her.

Big tenement blocks loomed up on either side. Dashing past, Ava had seen gateways leading into little courtyards. She’d rattled a few gates, but they were locked. No entry. Nowhere to hide. Breathless, she ran on, shoving past a group of people, laden with bags, on their way back from the market.

“Zao gao!” one shouted after her. “Watch where you’re going!”

Ava didn’t stop; she didn’t dare. Behind her the two men were gaining on her. She gulped and pushed on.

The alley led to a busy market square, full of noise and smells, and people weaving their way through. Ava heard their chatter, the squawk and grunts of livestock. Kids running round, wearing bright masks shaped to look like sharp-eyed birds and fierce beasts. The rich scent of street food cooking on open grills, infused with unfamiliar spices. Covered stalls hawking everything: food, drink, leather goods and chintzy jewelry, tiny plaster Buddhas in many colors, and intricately carved wooden crosses. All manner of folks (Neapolis had something of everything, after all); buyers and sellers (you could buy anything here, after all); happy people, sad people, people with purpose, people who were lost, people who were trying to make themselves lost. Surely there was somewhere to hide in the middle of all this confusion? Surely one frightened girl could lose herself here in all of this?

Dodging into the first line of stalls, between a man selling brightly colored shirts and a woman selling a potent poteen, Ava felt a glimmer of hope at last. She dived under the cover of a little stall selling knitted and woven goods. Turning her back, Ava began to rummage through the wares. Another customer arrived, and the stallholder became busy. Furtively, ashamed of what she’d come to, Ava selected a silver and purple shawl, rolled it up, and tucked it under her arm. She left her own old orange scarf by way of an apology.

Leaving the stall, she saw a tray of papier mâché masks, and she grabbed one that looked like an owl. Quick as she could, she melted into the crowd, wrapping the shawl around her head and slipping on the mask. She was small for her age and would look like one of the other kids. She came out at the far side of the square. There she was caught up, for a moment, by a wavering line of monks passing through the street—chanting, dancing, shaking bells. By the time she untangled herself, she had been pulled to the far side of the market square.

Ava found herself beside a group of six or seven people, standing in front of a shrine to Buddha. She inched forward to take a better look. She’d never seen anything like this before. Nobody from Ava’s town prayed to the little fat god. They were all good God-fearing Christians, with a preacher of their own who every week stood before them in the dark little wooden chapel and told them to work hard and not complain and that way the company would provide. Sisters, obey your brothers. Daughters, obey your fathers. Wives, obey your husbands. Ava used to see Aunty Eve’s eyes rolling at this point. This shrine was a little house—almost like the nativity stable—with a pointed roof that was painted red, much brighter than anything from home. Young lime trees stood on either side, each one garlanded with little flickering white lights. The shrine itself was festooned with offerings: melted candles, drooping yellow flowers that released a heavy perfume, vivid little flags and ribbons. The little fellow himself sat on a plinth to the left-hand side. He was plaster, covered in gold paint, although rather chipped and weatherworn. Ava thought she knew how he felt.

She attached herself to the group and moved closer. Behind her, right up close, she heard a man speaking. “Well, I’m damned if I find her in all this ruttin’ crush and I’m thinkin’ we ain’t gonna find her.”

“We’d better, else there’ll be hell to pay, dǒng ma?”

“Weren’t my fault she got away—”

“You were the one holdin’ her!”

“Gorram piece of niú fèn sunk her teeth in!”

Ava risked a look over her shoulder. They were here. The two men who, only half an hour ago, had grabbed her and tried to stick a needle in her arm. Ava, with more luck than perhaps she realized, had indeed bitten one, kicked the other, and made a run for it. She’d been running ever since. She turned back round quickly to face the shrine. Moving closer to the group, trying to make herself part of them, she accidentally knocked the elbow of the fellow next to her. She steeled herself for a blow, but instead he smiled, and offered her a burning taper.

“Do you want to light a candle?” he said.

“Can I?” she said.

“Sure.” He pressed the taper into her hand.

“Do I say a prayer?” she said.

“If you like.” He took a good look her. “Remember—everything changes. Nothing stays the same. Good and bad.”

Ava felt tears in her eyes. Well, she knew that already. A little awkwardly, she knelt down and reached forward to touch the taper against the wick of an unlit candle. The fire caught, and the little flame bounced up and into life. After a moment or two, Ava looked round. The men were gone. She could see no sign of them in the crowd.

“Be strong,” she whispered. “Be brave.” She clutched her stolen shawl tight and slipped away into the hinterland of the city.

* * *

Elsewhere, people were getting ready for the party. Serenity, moving purposely through the black, drew closer. In the hammock set up in the engine room, River Tam was sleeping at last, curled up like a child, her face turned to the lights sparkling on the wall. Her brother Simon—top three percent in his cohort across the Core worlds and gifted trauma surgeon (semi-retired)—began the slow process of extricating his hand from hers.

This was as delicate an operation as any Simon performed. Even the slightest movement might wake her. Sometimes he could settle her down again. Sometimes she woke screaming, and then… Well, that was not so much fun. That might mean another few hours holding her, talking to her, trying to reason with her… Simon Tam was a very tired man. In the couple of weeks since their sad visit to St. Albans, to take home the body of Private Tracey, River’s sleep had been badly disturbed. Simon had been sitting beside her for hours on end, trying to persuade her that everything was okay. You couldn’t always tell with River what the cause was, but this time, sifting through her angry, anxious words, Simon was sure that the idea of Tracey, sealed alive in his coffin, had triggered hazy recollections of River’s own cryogenic confinement. No wonder she loved the sight of the vast and endless black.

Finger by finger, his breath held, Simon detached his hand from River’s. She murmured a little, something incomprehensible (so much of what she said these days was incomprehensible), but she did not wake. When he was free, Simon stood looking at her for a little longer, heart thumping with a particularly fierce combination of love, pride, fear, grief, loyalty, and anger. He watched the quakes and tremors and twitches as whatever horrors River had seen passed through her. Slowly, these fears dissipated, and her breathing softened, and her whole body settled into peace. Silently, he blew her a kiss. She wasn’t going to wake, not for a while, and perhaps that meant that he could grab some rest now too. He left the engine room and found Kaylee hovering in the corridor outside.

“She sleepin’?”

“Mm,” said Simon, rubbing his face. Looking after River was like a never-ending night shift on an emergency ward during the party season. “Let’s hope it holds for a while.”

Kaylee smiled. She was so nice, Simon thought; so pretty… “Thank you for the loan of your hammock,” he said, hoping he sounded gallant.

Kaylee sparkled back at him, like the lights hanging up on the wall. She really was so pretty… “Fang xin,” she said. “You’re welcome.”

“River loves the sound of the engine.”

Her sweet smile faded ever so slightly. Frantically, Simon tried to work out what he’d done. Had he got it wrong again? He was grateful too, very grateful, beyond grateful, stratospherically grateful—should he have said that? He’d wanted to say something nice about her ship, because for some reason she loved this decrepit old deathtrap, but it looked like he’d gotten even that wrong…

Kaylee rallied. “Hey,” she said, taking his arm, pulling him away into the corridor, “sounds like we’re going to land on Bethel after all. You think you’ll come down this time?”

“Bethel?” Simon tried to place the name. His memory used to be so good. “I… Do I know where that is? Why we’re going there?”

“Inara has an appointment over the big weekend. And there’s a new job. Came up on the Cortex as we entered local space.”

“Oh good,” said Simon, without enthusiasm. Usually, the jobs ended with him taking bullets out of people. “More exciting criminal fun times rounded off with two hours of emergency surgery. I can’t wait.”

“It’s a nice world,” insisted Kaylee. “It’s fancy.”

Simon, who had spent almost all of his life so far on one of the richest worlds in the Alliance, sincerely doubted that. He had a strong suspicion that Bethel was going to be yet another mud-splattered, cow-infested dung heap, but he knew better now than to voice such misgivings out loud. Kaylee got hurt when he said things like that, and Simon didn’t want to hurt Kaylee.

“Well, maybe not nice,” Kaylee amended, “but fun, you know? We should go and have some fun! You know how to have fun, don’t you, Simon?”

Should he say yes? Should he go? He didn’t want to be rude to her, not again, but all he wanted right now was some sleep… “I… I… Well, River…”

“River. Sure,” she said, too brightly. “Of course. Yep.” She headed off down the corridor to the dining room. Wearily, acutely aware that once again he’d disappointed, Simon followed. Shepherd Book was there already, and—tā mā de—so was Jayne, and Mal, all at one end of the table. Simon made himself a cup of chamomile tea and went to take the seat next to the Shepherd. “Stinkin’ flowers,” Jayne muttered, as he went past with his cup, and then he seemed to recall that Simon could paralyze him and River could do whatever it was that River could now do. “Takes all sorts, I ’spose.”

Simon, drinking his tea, listened half-heartedly to their conversation.

“In the Bible,” said the Shepherd, looking dead straight at the captain, but with a twinkle in his eye, “Bethel is the place where Jacob had a vision of a ladder reaching up to heaven, with angels ascending and descending.”

“Well, I ain’t intendin’ to have no visions, Shepherd,” Mal replied, apparently unwilling to rise to the Shepherd’s bait, “heaven-sent or otherwise, neither today nor tomorrow. We’re here to do a job of work, nothing more—”

“The meaning of the name ‘Bethel’,” Shepherd Book went on, sonorously, “is the House of God—”

It was easy to be snide about chamomile tea, but it was soothing, good for relaxation, and it also helped you sleep. If Jayne Cobb cared, which Simon doubted…

“And there was I thinkin’ Bethel was the party planet,” said Kaylee, taking the seat across from Simon.

“Whores,” agreed Jayne. Yes, that would be his idea of a party. “Hundreds of ’em. That’s what I heard.” He nudged the Shepherd, hard. “That what you mean by angels?”

“Not precisely,” said the Shepherd. “There are many interpretations of the ladder, but I myself like the one where it represents a bridge between Heaven and Earth. I believe it signifies how God is always present in our lives. Or some kind of grace, at any rate.”

Simon had taken up drinking chamomile tea during his residency. Some of the other students had laughed at him too, but they’d all been drinking it by the end, including those who were already halfway to being alcoholics. Now that had been a long year. Nothing compared to this one, mind you…

“I know there’s all the gamblin’,” said Kaylee, “but ain’t there other stuff to do too this weekend?”

Simon thought he’d known back then what tired felt like. He’d been wrong, so very wrong. He was wrong about a lot of things, these days… Anyway, chamomile tea smelled nice. Made him think of being back home…

“This stone that I have set up as a pillar will be God’s house,” intoned the Shepherd, “and of all that you give me I will give you a tenth.”

“I ain’t givin’ nobody a tenth of nothing,” muttered Jayne.

“And for once I entirely agree with you,” said the captain. Simon, closing his eyes, let the conversation wash over him. Perhaps some part of his brain would be able to sort through the noise and determine whether there was any useful information to be gleaned…

“Like, ain’t there live music, and dancin’, and that kind of thing?” said Kaylee. “It ain’t all whorin’ and gamblin’—”

“It ain’t?” said Jayne, disappointed.

“We’re here to work, Kaylee,” said Mal, “not to party.”

“Don’t be such so grouchy, Captain. It’s Carnival! Hey, maybe I’ll get to wear my dress again—”

“It’s a very beautiful passage,” said Book. “God’s promise to us that even in our direst need we can consider ourselves not alone—”

“I’m sure it’s a fine piece of fiction,” said the captain, exasperation rising, “and you’re more’n welcome to read it to yourself in the privacy of your own quarters, Shepherd, where you’ll not be botherin’ anyone else, but I’ll thank you to keep all holy talk away from my dining table—”

“You like live music, Simon?”

Though the tea would certainly be nicer with a spoonful of honey stirred in… Was there any honey on Serenity? On Bethel? Were there bees on Bethel…?

“Simon?”

Simon, jerking awake, was suddenly aware of an expectant silence. He opened his eyes to see four people staring straight at him, with looks ranging on a scale from fond indulgence to violent dislike.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” said Simon. “I… I… I think I must have dozed off. What were you saying, Kaylee?”

Jayne laughed. The Shepherd smiled. Kaylee looked hurt. “Don’t worry. It don’t matter.” Wrong again, thought Simon. He grasped around for something to say. “Um, is there something special about this weekend?”

Kaylee brightened. “It’s Carnival!”

“Ah.” Simon didn’t have a clue what that meant, and he didn’t want to risk hurting Kaylee again by asking. “Carnival.”

“If Captain Misery there will only let us off the ship—”

“Maybe when we’re done with the job, Kaylee—”

Carnival, thought Simon. Was this something he needed to be worrying about? He sighed, and the Shepherd leaned in for a quiet word. “Shut your eyes again, son,” he murmured.. “We’ll call you when we need you.”

The Shepherd, Simon thought, was a very wise man. Bethel, he thought, another dung heap. But one that Kaylee wanted to see. Simon couldn’t square this circle, not now. Instead, obeying his preacher, Simon closed his eyes again. His mind drifted back to Osiris, where the world had made perfect sense, before everything turned upside down and he found himself here, amongst strangers, trying to make a broken girl better. Gǒu shǐ, thought Simon, I really am very tired…

* * *

Before Ava Jones left her home up in Evansville to catch the big train down here to Neapolis, she’d been so excited, telling all her friends about the job at the hotel that Uncle Nate had fixed up for her, and how she was looking forward to seeing the city at last, and imagining the good times she’d have when she got there. The day before she left, a friend of her late aunt came up to her, and, quietly, pressed a card into her hand. “You find yourself in any trouble, honey,” she said, “take this to a vidphone and call the number there. They’ll help you out, best they can.”

“Trouble?” said Ava. She wasn’t anticipating trouble. She was heading off to the big city, like she’d always wanted to since Momma and Poppa had died. Free at last! Money in her pocket and all the big wide ’verse to explore. “I’m a good girl! I ain’t plannin’ on gettin’ into trouble.”

“Honey,” said Aunty Eve’s friend, “sometimes trouble comes lookin’ for us. Take the card and make the call—if you have to.”

So Ava took the card, and, showing some of the very good sense that her Aunty Eve had tried hard to instill in her while Ava was in her care, she had kept the card with a handful of other small treasures wrapped on her person, rather than stored in her little case. She wondered where that little case was now. All her clothes (including her best dress and best hat) had been in that little blue plastic case. She figured she wasn’t seeing them ever again, and good hats and dresses don’t fall out of the sky. But the card was safe (along with Momma’s ring and the holo-images of Momma and Poppa’s wedding day and a little squishy toy bear called Patches), and it turned out she had cause to use this card after all.

On a side street near the open market, Ava found a public vidphone and tried to work out what to do. Ava had never used anything like this in her life. She’d seen one, of course—she might be from the sticks, but she wasn’t stupid, which more people ought to remember, particularly those trying to stick needles into arms. There was an old vidphone in the bar where Uncle Nate and his pals went drinking after their shift, but Ava doubted Uncle Nate had ever had reason to use such a thing either. Who was there to call? Everyone they knew was right there in Evansville.

The street was quiet. Ava took off the owl mask and stared at the smooth blank screen. Well, really, how hard could it be? She reached a finger out to tap the cool plastic, and the screen sprang into life, all bright colors and flashing lights. A little cartoon rabbit bounced past and made her laugh; first thing about this place to do so. The rabbit hopped down a hole and pulled a cover over its head, but before instructing Ava in no uncertain terms to eat Joozy Frooty Treets. Maybe she would. The screen flickered and a soft voice said: Insert card… Insert card… over and over, until Ava obeyed, jamming the card into the only slot she could see.

The display on the screen changed again. Some numbers— that was her credit, she guessed—and a list named ‘CONTACTS’. There was only one name there: P.R. Quigley’s Cleaning Services, two Chinese characters, but nobody had ever bothered to teach Ava how to read them. Was this really somebody who could help? She hoped so. She touched the characters, and a green light flashed. Connecting… said the soft voice. Connecting…

It said this over and over for a while, then said: Disconnecting… Disconnecting… Ava tried again, and a third time, with the same unhappy results. So much for help. She looked down the street. The afternoon was wearing on and a breeze picking up. Ava shivered. She was glad of the shawl, although she still felt bad about how she’d got it. “Thou shalt not steal,” said the preacher, every weekend, although he did say some dumb things. Desperate times, she thought, perhaps she’d be forgiven. She gave the number one last try.

Connecting… Connecting…

The green light stopped flashing and held still. A voice came through—no face—and sounding a little distorted.

“Who’s this?”

“M’name’s Ava, ma’am.”

“How did you get this number?”

“Missus Freeman, back in Evansville, where I’m from, she gave me it, ma’am. Said to call, if I needed help.”

There was a pause. “You need help?”

Ava couldn’t reply at first. Couldn’t put into words all that had happened…

“Are you still there, honey?”

Missus Freeman had called her that. So had Aunty Eve. Maybe Momma had too. Anyway, it helped. “Two men…” Ava whispered. “Came at me… One of ’em had a needle… “Please,” she said. “Help me.” She began to cry.

“Okay. It’s okay, honey. Listen. Wait where you are. I’ll you call back in twenty minutes. You hear? Don’t move, and don’t miss the call. I’ll call you back. I promise.”

The line went dead. Ava felt a cautious hope rise up. She stood by the vidphone, shawl covering her face, hoping that nobody else would come past wanting to use it and take up the line. She watched the time tick past slowly on the screen. Fifteen minutes, sixteen, seventeen. Twenty-one, twenty-two… Twenty-five… She was starting to think she’d been taken for a ride, when the light on the screen started flashing green.

Incoming… Incoming…

Ava touched the screen and the voice came through again: “Is your card in the slot?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“There’s another number on there now. You need to call that number tomorrow morning. You need to call at the right time. Not before ten, and not after ten thirty. Got that?”

“Yes, ma’am. Tomorrow morning. Not before ten, not after ten thirty.”

“They’ll give you an address to go to. Tomorrow morning—not before ten, not after ten thirty.”

The call ended, before Ava could say: But what should I do for the rest of today, ma’am? What should I do for tonight?

Ava looked round. All she could see was those big stone tenement buildings, turned inwards. No help there. She wandered down the street, away from the market, and found herself walking through a little park. She sat down on a bench and watched group of children flying their kites: dragons and hawks and spaceships. Ava had never flown a kite; there hadn’t been much time for that kind of thing back home, but something about the children’s laughter made her think of Momma and Poppa, long gone, and Aunty Eve, who had always been kind, and she felt tears welling up. She shook herself. She was fourteen, grown-up, she wasn’t a kid any more.

The kites caught in the breeze. The kids laughed when they lifted higher, shrieked when they swooped, groaned when they took a tumble down to the ground. After a while, they stopped, and opened up a picnic. Ava watched, trying to ignore her own hunger. She hadn’t eaten since early this morning, just before the train arrived in Neapolis, and she didn’t have any money. When the kids finished eating, they played a running game for a while, but the day was growing colder, the sun was getting cooler, and at last their grown-ups rounded them up to head home. The park was emptying. Ada got up and found a huge tree, its branches coming down to the ground, like a tent, and snuck underneath.

After about twenty minutes, one of the security staff lifted the branches. “Bad luck, sweetheart,” he said. “We’re wise to this spot.”

“I just need a place to sleep for the night,” Ava said. “Just one night.”

“You ain’t got a home?”

“I’m here for Carnival. Workin’.”

“You ain’t found a bed?”

“The boarding house got mixed up.” Funny how quick the lies came, once you started. Stealin’, lyin’… Preacher Wiley, if ever he found out, would tell Uncle Nate to use his strap on her. “Someone else has the bed tonight—”

“Well, I’m sorry, sweetheart, but if I let you stay here, I’ll be the one lookin’ for work in the morning.”

“But where should I—?”

He shrugged. She could see he wasn’t going to let her make herself his problem, so she gave up, and let him lead her to the gate. She watched him set the security codes, and the force barriers went up. She wouldn’t get back in there so she turned and walked away.

Cities have a twilight time between the late afternoon and the evening, when the daytime businesses have wound down, but the nighttime pleasures have barely begun. Those who have finished for the day have gone home and are settling down comfortably to supper and bed; those who are going back out again are not yet ready to hit the town. There’s an hour or two when a city is neither one thing nor the other, where a girl wandering stands out. Someone without a destination. Someone without a place. As Ava walked, she felt more and more conspicuous, easier and easier to find. She needed somewhere to hide for the night…

Be strong, she thought. Be brave.

She turned a corner and found herself back in the market square. The place was very different now; empty and disheveled. All the buyers long gone; whoever remained of the vendors packing up their wares ready to be on their way. Ava wandered past the grubby stalls, the canopies flapping in the breeze. This wasn’t what the city was supposed to be like. The city was supposed to be her big chance, her way out of the grind of poverty that was life out in Evansville. Ava wasn’t afraid of work; she’d worked most of her life and she’d come here ready and willing to do what was needed. But she wasn’t willing to be hurt, and Aunty Eve had always said to her, “You don’t let anyone take advantage, honey…”

All I have to do, thought Ava, is get through tonight. Tomorrow— someone’ll come. Someone’ll help me, surely…

Across the square, lights were twinkling. Ava followed their lead back to the shrine, where her candle was still burning, the small flame dancing in the breeze. It turned out that the shrine stood a little in front of the wall, and there was a small space there, sheltered by the trees that stood on either side. Ava slipped into the gap. Hardly comfortable, but maybe she could spend the night here unnoticed. That was all she wanted: to lie low, be quiet, make it through the next day without being found. She curled up, resting her head upon her hands. She listened to the wind and stared up through the leaves. The lights on the boughs of the trees were twinkling, like stars, like hope or freedom.

* * *

Elsewhere, the party was about to start, and the staff at St. Freda’s Hospital, Neapolis, were preparing for another grueling few days. They approached the whole period with the kind of grim fatalism more commonly found during lengthy sieges. Carnival was exhausting: a non-stop parade of injuries arising from too much drink, too few inhibitions, and the unfortunate combination of both. Their own small sweepstake included categories such as: Most embarrassing injury. Most preventable emergency. Most ludicrous chain of events.

This was one way to pass the weekend. Dr. Katarina Neilsen, who was responsible for emergency care at the hospital, had plenty of other things to keep her busy. Yesterday, for example, one of her best people, deciding he was unable to face another excessively stressful few days, had quit. Now she was short-staffed. She sat in her office staring at the staff roster, trying to stretch not enough people across too many hours in need of cover. There were limits to what she could expect: at some point, people got too tired and started to make mistakes. And each year, her people told her, Carnival seemed to get a little wilder, a little more violent, a little more out-of-hand. She had come to Bethel a few months ago from the Core worlds, hoping for something less tedious and predictable. Sometimes she wasn’t sure she had made the right decision.

There was a knock at her office door. Katarina put aside her notes and called out, “Enter…” A sweet odor of perfume made her look up; the sight of her visitor made her rise from her chair. “Ms. Becker,” she said, “I wasn’t expecting you…”

Hilde Becker, richly dressed and ornamented, poised and utterly beautiful, moved smoothly into the room and gestured to Katarina to sit down. Permission to sit, in her own office. Only Hilde Becker could pull rank like this. She was head of the local Guild House, and one of the most influential people on Bethel. She also happened to be Katarina’s employer. The Guild owned St. Freda’s, as they owned large chunks of Neapolis. Only Jacob Roberts was more powerful, and Jacob Roberts and Hilde Becker were known to be good friends.

“Forgive me the interruption,” said Hilde. “I know this is a very busy time. I wanted to check that you had everything you needed.”

Katarina fell back in her chair. “Well, I’m critically short of staff.”

“Short of staff?”

“One of my best people quit yesterday. Couldn’t face another weekend of Carnival—”

“If you need extra funds, you can have them.”

“It’s not so much funds as the quality of the people available. I need specialists—”

“You’ve advertised on the Cortex?”

“Yes, but people come here to enjoy Carnival,” Katarina said, “not to find themselves up to their elbows in blood, bone, gore—”

A wave of the hand made it quite clear that Hilde did not want to hear more details, gory or otherwise. “Spend whatever you need. Pay whatever it costs. The hospital plays an important part in maintaining the Guild’s reputation on Bethel. I want the weekend to go smoothly.” She looked impassively at her employee. “I’m sure you’ll do everything to make sure that happens.”

Katarina herself was less convinced about her ability to work that kind of miracle but she knew that Hilde wasn’t interested in those kinds of detail either. When she started at St. Freda’s, she’d quickly worked out what the working relationship would be. Katarina would present Hilde with problems; Hilde gave her the money to make them go away. In many ways, it was a satisfactory arrangement: St. Freda’s had some state-of-the-art equipment these days. In other ways, it was not a good arrangement. Katarina hadn’t yet had to present Hilde with a failure, but she wasn’t looking forward to doing this when one inevitably arose.

“You should keep a little time free over the weekend,” said Hilde. “To enjoy some of what’s on offer.”

Rich people, Katarina had noticed, had an amazing ability not to hear what being was said to them. She was not unused to wealthy people—she had grown up and done her medical training on Osiris, after all, and while her family had comparatively modest means, she had studied alongside some scions of the fabulously rich. She was not unused to companions either—had even engaged one herself on one sweetly memorable occasion—but the combination of wealth, power, poise, and beauty that came together in Hilde was particularly intimidating. Also, Hilde could fire her on the spot. Hilde scared the life out of Katarina, and she didn’t know how to tell her ‘no’.

“I’ll try to catch a concert or two,” Katarina said. “It would definitely be a shame to miss the whole party.”

Hilde smiled. “You’re not one for gambling?”

“Not really,” said Katarina, whose day-to-day life already carried with it enough risk and stress.

“What a pity. Myself, I enjoy taking risks.”

The console on Katarina’s desk gently chimed. Incoming… Incoming…

“I’m so sorry,” Katarina said, reaching to cut it off. “They can call back later—”

“Please,” said Hilde, “feel free to take it.”

That carried the weight of an order rather than a suggestion, so Katarina let the call come through. Her heart sank when she saw a familiar face appear on screen. Anna Liu—twenty years younger than Hilde, but with that same deadly combination of wealth, power, poise, and beauty. One of those scions of the fabulously rich that Katarina had met back on Osiris. Her friend, Katarina supposed she should call her, if the very rich do in fact have friends. Katarina lifted her hand, hoping to signal to Anna that someone else was present, and that she should rein herself in.

“Anna,” she said, with a note of warning. “I’m pretty busy right now—”

Her friend’s eyes sharpened. But her voice stayed light. “Kay, you’re looking so solemn!” Anna raised a cocktail glass (How late was it, exactly? Katarina checked the time. Mid-afternoon. Not late enough.). “Smile!” she said. “It’s Carnival!”

“Not until tomorrow evening, Anna.”

“Anyone who’s anyone started drinking yesterday—”

“I’ll have to resign myself to being no one.”

“Kay, you’re my favorite someone. Can you talk? I have a favor to ask—”

“Can it wait? I have Hilde Becker here…” She left the implications of that hanging meaningfully and heavily in the air between them.

“Really?” Anna craned her neck forward, as if to try to catch a glimpse. “You do have such grand friends—”

“Ms. Becker is my employer, Anna, as you know.”

Anna looked back mischievously. “I didn’t mean to interrupt an important meeting.”

“You’re not interrupting. Yet.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t keep you.”

“You said a favor?”

“Mm. I wanted to know what your plans were for the weekend.”

“I’ll be working, I imagine,” said Katarina, allowing a little irritation to creep into her voice. “It’s not a great time for the hospital—”

“Oh, but they have to let you out to play at some point?”

“Well, I’ll see how I feel at the end of the weekend.”

“All right, Kay. Enjoy your tête-à-tête with Mzzz Becker. I’ll speak to you later.”

The call ended. Hilde, rather coolly, said, “I didn’t know that you knew Anna Liu.”

She didn’t seem very happy about it either. Perhaps she didn’t like the idea of Katarina having other friends in high places. Anna and her brother had inherited several of the casinos on and around the Platinum Mile. Only Jacob Roberts owned more on Bethel. Not that Anna appeared to take any interest in family affairs. She presented herself to the world as someone careless with her time and her money, someone who preferred partying than business.

“How did you meet?” asked Hilde.

“We studied together,” Katarina said. “I was at the med school while she was at the business school. We room shared.” In fact, Katarina had lived in the house that Anna’s parents had bought for her to use while she was away studying. Katarina had been astonished by that; her first real encounter with real wealth. She remembered going shopping with Anna once. On the spur of the moment, Anna bought a vastly expensive pair of shoes. When she’d seen Katarina’s expression, she asked what the matter was. “That’s what I pay you in rent every month,” said Katarina. An important moment, for both of them.

“Of course,” Hilde said. “I forget your central planet connections. You seem so much one of us these days.”

“I thought Bethel considered itself a central planet.”

Hilde smiled, opaquely. “It’s getting there,” she said. “Though anyone who knows anything can see that it’s rather rough around the edges. Still, I understand that’s part of the attraction, for many of our visitors.”

“A bit too rough sometimes, perhaps.”

“It’s only for a couple of days,” Hilde said.

“A lot of damage can be done in a couple of days.” Particularly when you were short-staffed.

“Not at the kind of event that I host. Which brings me to my reason for coming today. I have a small party happening on Last Night, you know.”

Of course Katarina knew. A small party? The Guild’s last night party was one of the most exclusive events on Bethel. People were desperate for an invite.

“And you’re invited,” said Hilde. “Do bring a guest, if you like.” She considered this. “Not Anna Liu. She can be chaotic.”

Oh, thought Katarina. I wasn’t expecting that… “I… I don’t know what to say. I’m very gratified, obviously, but it’s going to be so busy here over the weekend, and I should be available—”

“I told you that money would be no object.” A little steel had entered Hilde’s voice now. “Hire whoever you need. Spend whatever’s required. But come to the party.”

Was it worth trying to explain again that you couldn’t conjure the right people with the right skills out of the air? Hilde didn’t look like she was ready to hear that.

“I’ll do my best.”

“I’m sure you’ll manage,” said Hilde, as she rose from her chair. “That’s what I pay you for, after all.” She smiled. “I’ll see you at the party.”

This was the problem with accepting patronage, Katarina thought, watching Hilde go; you were not permitted to say ‘no’. One could spend whatever one liked, as long as you obeyed whims, did what you were told, and somehow achieved the impossible. Money no object, eh? I wonder what would happen if I put that out on the Cortex…

* * *

Joseph Liu didn’t, in general, eavesdrop on his sister’s calls, but there was something about the urgency in her voice that made him stop outside the door of her sitting room and listen.

“…No, listen to what I’m saying. I want a room, and I want a room tomorrow. Whatever you have to do to make that happen, do it. I’ll pay a hundred platinum… Yes, you did hear that right. And if I have to do, I’ll buy the damn motel and make all the rooms available… Oh, good, I’m glad to hear that. Yes. Tomorrow. Thank you.”

The call ended. Joseph waited a moment or two in case there was a follow-up, and then tapped on the door and went inside. Anna, his brilliant little sister, was lying on the couch, eyes closed. Joseph looked at her sadly. Anna, as a girl, always had so much promise… She’d shone at school, gone off to the central worlds at sixteen to study, went to college on Osiris, went into finance… And then their parents died, and she came home, and since then her whole life seemed to have been knocked off course. Gone was the ambition, the drive. All she seemed to want to do these days was stay out, drink, sleep until the afternoon. He tried to be patient, but he wished she would set herself straight.

“That sounded angry,” he said.

She cracked open an eye. “Are you listening to my calls now?”

“They could probably hear you on the Mile. Are you moving into the hospitality business?”

“What?” she said.

“Buying a motel.”

“Oh,” she said. “No. Nothing like that. A friend arrived this morning and her room had been double-booked. I was undouble-booking it.”

“For a hundred platinum?”

“I can do what I like with my own money, Joe.”

That was true. Half of the estate had been settled on her by their mother and father, and it was none of his damn business what she did with the money. She could drink away the whole pile, and it wouldn’t, technically, be even remotely his business. Except that he loved her, and he didn’t think this life of hers made her happy.

“Must be a good friend,” he said, still fishing. “Do I get to meet her?”

“When I say friend,” Anna replied, “she’s more a friend of Kay Neilsen’s really. So no, probably not.”

Kay Neilsen was one of Anna’s old friends from her time on Osiris, who for some reason had followed Anna back here. Joseph had met Kay once or twice: a doctor, serious and intelligent. Why she’d come to Bethel he had no idea. He’d thought once or twice that there might be something between them, but when he’d broached the topic with Anna (he wouldn’t have minded, he just wanted to know), she’d laughed in his face. “Kay? Oh, Joe, no! Absolutely not!”

“I like Kay,” Joseph said. “I wish you saw more of her.”

“Prefer her to my current gang, you mean?”

Anna’s current group of hangers-on were the worst of Bethel’s elite, in Joseph’s opinion. Five or six years younger than her, and not a single intelligent thought between them. “I don’t know what you see in them, Anna, that’s all. You used to enjoy good conversation. That lot… they’re dull. They have no opinions. It’s all gossip.”

“Nothing wrong with gossip,” said Anna. “You can learn a great deal from gossip.”

Joseph poured himself a drink and took the seat opposite her. “So what are your plans for Carnival?”

“I’m going to enjoy myself,” she said.

“No change there,” he said, lightly, although he wasn’t entirely convinced that she enjoyed this life of hers. Mostly, she seemed to be doing nothing more than filling the hours.

“I see no reason to change,” she replied. Then she seemed to decide to want to make an effort. She sat up, curling her legs beneath her, and smiled at him. “What are your plans, Joe?” she asked. “For First Night?”

A few years back, at this time of year, this big house up in the hills would be bustling with life, as they made ready for Mother and Father’s First Night party. That was where everyone wanted to be on the first night of Carnival. Planning for one of these parties was one of Joseph’s earliest memories: choosing the theme; sending out the invitations; picking out the masks and costumes. And then, on the