Free Cosmopath by Eric Brown Page B

didn’t know what to think of Dr Rao, even though
Jeff bore the man a grudging respect. What Rao did might seem evil to
some, but as Jeff had more than once pointed out Rao was the last
chance many of these kids had, even if he profited by their
servitude.
    Her
memories of six years ago were painful. Tiger had died of a drug
overdose a week before Sukara reached the Station - but through Dr
Rao she had met Jeff, and the meeting had changed her life.
    If
only Tiger could have lived to meet Li and Pham, she thought; if only
they could have lived together on the Station like one big, happy
family.
    She
wondered how Jeff was getting on with Chandrasakar. She trusted her
husband’s instincts. Being a telepath made him - even when he
wasn’t able to read someone - an astute judge of character; he
was able to pick up on subliminal traits in someone’s gestures
and mannerisms, almost unconscious signals, which told him whether a
person was to be trusted or not. She was sure that the billionaire
wouldn’t be able to put anything over on him.
    She
watched Li, jumping up and down in front of the glass enclosure which
housed a Lyran octopoid, a hairy creature which looked like a cross
between a spider and a squid.
    Absently,
Sukara read the caption on the enclosure while the girl listened,
rapt.
    As
they walked to the next habitat, Pham said seriously, “When I’m
older I want to travel to other planets and see all kinds of animals,
just like Dad has.â€

SIX
    A GOOD MAN
    Parveen
Das leaned to starboard in the cushioned seat as the flier banked on
its approach run to Bengal Station. This was the first time she’d
ever set eyes on the marvel of twenty-second-century design and
technology, a foursquare, twenty-level hive that was home to over
thirty million citizens. It was the size of ten cities, or even a
medium-sized country, a military-industrial power in its own right
and independent of Indian political influence and that of the China,
Europe, and the Federated Northern States of America. Despite all it
represented, Parveen could not deny that something about it - its
sheer size for one thing, the teeming vitality of the place -
inspired awe.
    The
flier levelled out and flew low over the Station’s north-west
sector, and what before had been nothing more than a colourful
circuit-board seen from afar now resolved itself into a vast expanse
of streets and avenues, buildings and parks; even from this height
she could see that the place was packed with humanity; pedestrians
filled many of the streets and fliers criss-crossed the sky,
travelling along a complex skein of colour-coded air corridors.
    Below,
the spaceport came into view. This took up a good eighth of the
Station’s top level, a rectangle marked with docking rigs and a
hundred starships at rest, and dozens more phasing in or out.
Vehicles beetled their way between the behemoths and port personnel
scurried like ants between the ships and terminal buildings.
    Chandrasakar’s
new voidliner stood beside the perimeter rail overlooking the ocean.
It dwarfed those ships nearby, a sturdily massive ship like a
towerpile on its side. It was painted in the racing-green livery of
the Chandrasakar Organisation, and bore an entwined CO in gold within
a ring of stars.
    The
symbol gave Parveen a kick in the stomach at the thought that very
soon she would be in Rab’s arms.
    The
flier landed and she climbed out. Efficient as ever, Zonia,
Chandrasakar’s PA, was waiting to greet her and lead the way
through the ship.
    Ten
minutes later - it took that long to negotiate the corridors,
elevators, and vast chambers of the ship’s capacious interior -
Parveen hurried through the sliding door into Rab’s private
suite.
    He
was facing a wall-mounted softscreen, speaking with someone - but he
ended the conversation as soon as he saw her and hurried across the
room, arms outstretched.
    â€œParveen,
it’s