"I suppose so."
"What started off as a fringe religious movement attracted more people when they realized it was possible to stay up there without Event Horizon's permission; the idealists who really believe in space, the old High Frontier dream. Construction workers mainly, ones whose contract with Event Horizon ran out after the main section of the colony was finished. A whole host of oddballs threw in with them, from research professors right down to maintenance engineers who'd been fired for negligence. All of them determined not to be flung out of what they see as the human race's greatest hope. So the Celestial Apostles preach two kinds of salvation now. Both wings of the movement expect New London to be a fulcrum in human events. I think they may be right, too, the technological Celestials. There are another four asteroid-capture missions in progress; it's the way the future's going. One day there could be hundreds of inhabited asteroids in orbit around Earth, and think how that kind of industrial capacity would boost the global economy."
"But how could these Celestials stay up there if their contracts ran out? I thought only active workers were allowed to live in New London."
"How would you find them, Fabian? There are fifteen thousand people living and working in New London, plus another four or five thousand tourists at any one time. How can you spot two hundred illegals in that crowd? Especially as there's only about seventy police officers, with maybe twice that many Event Horizon security staff. It would be a fulltime job for the lot of them. And the Celestials hide good, Fabian. New London's habitat chamber, Hyde Cavern, has a surface area of twenty-three square kilometres, then there's the tunnels, hundreds of kilometres of them, and natural caves, fissures in the rock that Event Horizon has never mapped out."
Fabian's expression was remote, junky eyes gazing at her. "They live in caves?"
"Yes, most of them, or the unused apartments."
"How come you know all this?" he asked suspiciously.
"I met a couple of them. They try and get round as many tourists as possible, asking us to join. They were very serious, almost evangelical. Everyone's welcome, they said. Not my cup of tea."
"Crikey, you mean they're recruiting more people to join them?"
"Yes."
"But you said there was over two hundred Celestials already. They'd never be able to buy food for that many, not in a closed environment. Besides, the banks would burn their cards. What do they eat?"
Charlotte laughed. "Whatever they want. The only plant you can't eat in Hyde Cavern is the grass, the rest is all fruit and vegetable, every type you can name. A vegetarian's paradise. It looks spectacular, too. Most of the plants were gene-tailored, and the New London Civil Council insisted they were given decent flowers." She drew a deep breath, remembering. "And the scents! Fabian, there's nowhere on Earth that smells so fresh."
He deflated in frustration. "Bloody hell, I want to go there."
She leant over and kissed the nape of his neck. "I'm sorry, Fabian. I didn't mean to make you jealous."
"I'm not. It's just… I wish Father would trust me more."
"He's a busy man right now." She moved her lips on to his spine, tasting warm saltiness. His downy hair brushing against her cheek. "And New London is going to be there for a long, long time."
"Oh, Father's always busy."
"He told me he'd got some very important contracts to tie up this week."
"Crikey, you're not kidding. I'm not even allowed to use my terminal's datalink to the communication platforms. How am I supposed to get hold of the latest VR games, and the new videoke releases?"
Charlotte stopped her featherlight kisses halfway down Fabian's back. She had been depending on him to provide her with a communication circuit to Baronski. Jason Whitehurst seemed to have thought of that too. God damn the man! "Isn't that unusual?"
"I'll say so. There isn't a single satellite uplink free. I don't know what he can do with all the data that's being squirted on board. All of our cargo agents are plugged into the company management processor cores. He must be selling off an entire country."
"Hey, can you see what they're downloading with all this gear of yours?" She made it come out casually, an impulse.
Fabian twisted his head to look back over his shoulder at her. "Well, yes, I suppose I could. Technically, I mean. My gear could handle it." He looked straight ahead again. "I never have though."
She started kissing his spine again. "It might be fun."
"Father tells me everything about the business."
"Everything?"
"Think so." There were shades of defensiveness and doubt jumbled together in his voice.
Charlotte reached his buttocks. "Turn over, Fabian."
Charlotte pulled on a broad white cotton halter top, and a pair of running shorts. They were tight, making her look as if she was about to burst out of them. Partly clothed always excited men more than being naked.
Fabian watched her getting dressed, wearing the serious face of someone at prayer. "You're so beautiful."
She knelt down and put her hand under her chin. "You keep saying that."
"Because you are."
"And you're very chivalrous."
He flipped his hair aside. "Just saying what I think. I can do that, can't I?"
"The girls at Cambridge are going to go wild over you. Rich, young, clever, handsome, and a real gentleman; and that's before you take your clothes off."
Fabian pulled away, staring at a science fiction saga on one of the flatscreens; wedge-shaped fighter-spaceplanes dog-fighting in the rings of a gas-giant planet. "I don't want any other girls," he said pertly. "I've got you."
She cupped his ears, and gently bent forward to kiss him. He had listened devoutly to everything she'd told him, and remembered it all. If only he wasn't so young, or she wasn't so bloody old. One of the fighters exploded in a brilliant concussion of white and blue flames, dousing them in a tide of phosphor radiance.
"There," she said as the explosion shrank. "See what kind of effect you have."
"I love you, Charlotte."
She gave his nose a quick kiss. "Have you ever skinnydipped in an ice-cold mountain tarn while there's a full moon in the sky?"
"No. Never."
"We'll try it tonight, then. I don't know about the moon and the ice, but the pool's there waiting."
"Yes!" His head swivelled about, taking in the terminals and his miscellaneous 'ware modules, suddenly very determined. "I'm going to see what Father's doing. He's got some pretty strange contacts, you know, for business, for making sure he gets delivery contracts and things. But he's never done anything like this before." He tugged his outsize Superman T-shirt out from under some cushions, and fought his way into it.
"Oh, well, I'm already out of my depth," Charlotte said. "I can never even balance my card accounts. I'll let you get on with it."
"Right," he mumbled. Multicoloured graphics were already rising in the cubes of the terminal he was operating.
She arranged the cushions in a loose nest, slumping into a beanbag at the bottom. Her cybofax displayed the London Times; the headline article was on the upcoming Welsh referendum.
She couldn't concentrate on it. A mirage of Fabian shimmered above the little screen. It wasn't as if she hadn't formed strong bonds with a patron before. One of her favourites had been eighty-eight, Emile Hirchaur, a French count. There had never been any sex involved; he simply enjoyed watching her walk and swim and ride: she'd been a surrogate body for him. And she was an attentive listener, he could be quite funny. He had chortled delightedly at his scandalized relatives when they came to visit his chateau. Life had to be made fun at his age, it would have been so utterly pointless otherwise. He treated his senescence like a second childhood. Another real gentleman. She'd cried horribly when he died.