Forged in the Fire by Dirk Walvoord

Author:Dirk Walvoord [Walvoord, Dirk]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-01-16T00:00:00+00:00

after the party’s over –

Debra steps from the Broitaan and accepts Io’s invitation as he holds open the door to his house. “Lights,” he announces quietly.

Whereas everything about the Pavilion sought to arouse and stimulate, Io’s house aims to soothe and calm. The furnishings look comfortable and inviting. The artwork inspires thought, introspection, and reflection. The air seems fresh and pure, like an outdoor venue of living flowers, trees, and shrubs. Debra pauses to take it all in. “So this is what a Level One’s house looks like.”

“I guess so,” he answers. “It’s what my house looks like. Drink?”

One might guess that she has answered yes to that question several times already this evening. “Sure, why not?”

“What would you like?”

“Oh, how ’bout a little Andorian brandy.” As Io makes his way to the bar, Debra finds his entertainment control panel. “Mind if I get some music?”

“Help yourself.”

The tune that starts up has a nice beat and you can dance to it—or do something else. “This OK?” she asks.

Io returns with two snifters and they touch rims. “Sure. What is it?”

“Erotic nights. It’s on Mediawave. Is it gettin’ to you? You feelin’ anything?”

Io is puzzled at first, then, “Oh you mean sublims? No.”

“Oh yeah, Level Ones are real high-thresh. You want me to crank ’em up a little? I’ll be OK, I’m an eight-three.” She returns her attention to the control panel. “What? You got ’em off completely? No wonder.” She works one of the controls. “Ooh. That’s better.” Her psyche is clearly in a different place. “You’re gonna have to solve me in a minute. Does that sound like fun?”

She approaches him seductively, rubbing herself against him. Io enjoys it with just a hint of detachment. “What? Still nothin’?” she asks. “I’m goozed as a fetch, and you’re still cool? What’s your thresh anyway? Nine-nine?”

“I don’t, uh get much from sublims.”

Any hint of sophistication has vanished. This is a woman on a mission. “Well, I do.”

Io sets his drink on the nearby table. “That’s great.”

“I don’t know how much you’re gonna enjoy this without a little of Mediawave’s goozy magic,” she says, wrapping one long leg around him. “. . . but you’re gonna get it anyway.” She kisses him hard on the lips. “I know I’m gonna enjoy the pakk out of it.”

The next morning, the sun burns through the foggy clouds on the horizon and the air smells of overnight rain. Exotic blossoms festooning the trellis offer their scent as well. Io executes an off-world form of tai chi clad in a short, decorative silk robe and sandals.

Debra comes to the doorway and admires his graceful, powerful movements. Io talks without interrupting the routine. “Sleep well?”

“Yes, thanks.” She’s rather transfixed by the scene. “What’s that called?”

“This? Oh, Kraaken. It promotes unity.”

“It’s beautiful.” She watches a little longer.

“You hungry? There’s some things on the table. Help yourself.”

“Thanks.” She serves herself fruit and pours a cup of steaming liquid from the ornate urn.

Io finishes the routine and sits across from her.

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