High Flyer - Michelle Diener Page 0,31
to come in to fetch me. Lancaster set it up."
"He never told me. I'm surprised he thought it was necessary."
"I told him to do it."
She grinned. "Bet he didn't like that."
"But couldn't find a good enough reason to disagree." Iver grinned back.
They stepped into a cool, double-height atrium that gave the impression of space and light, even in the early evening gloom.
The sound of the rain on the high windows made Hana think of cozy evenings and comfortable chairs, and she was suddenly bone tired.
At least there was no one around, which made sense for this time of day, although clearly Moiri and some of her staff had remained at work to deal with Iver's disappearance.
Iver moved confidently toward the spiral lift, old tech that had found a new life here on Faldine, where newer innovations didn't do as well.
“They had one of these spirals on Kalastoni's moon, Cepi, you know,” he said, as he grabbed a handhold.
She took the next one, enjoying the sensation of being spun around as the spiral twirled her around and up.
“Is that where the tech originated?”
“Maybe. They've worked out the Cepi ruins are too old to have been built by our own ancestors, but our ancestors might have stopped at Cepi on their way to populate the Verdant String and studied the tech. One group obviously settled on Kalastoni and the rest carried on, taking the idea of the spiral lift with them.”
It was a fascinating idea. Hana hadn't spent much time thinking about the origins of the Verdant String until her upgrade. She was very interested in it now, though.
Iver stepped smoothly off the spiral many floors up, and Hana followed him.
She'd never been in the council building, although she'd walked past it many times while walking the streets on the days she was here waiting for Iver, shopping or attending the live theater that flourished on Faldine.
Touka City had at least four theaters, running shows every night, despite it's relatively tiny size from a Verdant String perspective.
Comms screens didn't always work that well here, so live theater came into its own.
She went to a play every night she'd ever spent in Touka.
Had the war done that, she wondered? Did it make the soul hunger for fun, laughter and stories, in a way that made you truly part of the emotion, as live theater did?
Iver slowed in front of her, and she realized the low murmur of voices she'd heard since she'd stepped off the spiral was coming from behind a door at the far end of a walkway.
The walkway was flush against the wall on one side, open to an atrium on the other, with a view to the right of the council building's entrance, where Moiri Tanek had given her speech only half an hour earlier.
They stopped in front on an office and Iver leaned against the door, listening.
“There's no one in there,” Hana told him.
He accepted her word with a nod and opened the door, holding it for her. She slipped inside and he followed her, closing the door behind him.
“What's the plan?”
“This is Moiri's office.”
She'd forgotten he must be very familiar with the building and where everything was.
He walked to the desk and touched the comm unit.
“Pollard? We're in the conference room.” Moiri's voice sounded irritated.
“It's Iver. Pretend I'm Pollard. I'm in your office. Make an excuse, and come over.”
“I'll be right there.” The comm cut off immediately.
Hana hadn't moved far from the door, and she slid up against the wall beside it, listening to Moiri's footsteps.
The administrator had come alone, as requested.
The door burst open, and Moiri strode in.
“Iver!” She quivered in outrage.
Moiri hadn't even noticed her, Hana realized as she flicked the door shut, content to let it stay that way, at least for a while longer.
“Moiri.”
The administrator stumbled to a stop, and Hana suddenly realized how disreputable Iver looked.
His jaw was dark with stubble, and his hair was wild, sticking up a little above his forehead. His clothes were streaked with dirt, crumpled and even a little ripped.
Her heart gave a little gallop in her chest. He was magnificent.
At that moment, he lifted his gaze to her, and she caught the flare of something in his eyes.
Moiri spun as she realized there was someone behind her, and openly gaped at Hana.
She assumed she looked as bedraggled as Iver did.
“The pilot?” Moiri asked.
Hana inclined her head.
Iver made a sound, and she saw his eyes narrow.
He didn't like that people thought of her as simply his pilot, rather