Iceman by Cynthia Felice

Author:Cynthia Felice
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance, politics, post apocalyptic, space travel, climate change, ice age
Publisher: ReAnimus Press

So Michael had found himself piloting a notar, which he had never done before. Jacinta had coached Michael admirably so he could get the craft safely from the tetherlot at the edge of her uncle’s holdings into the commercial air corridor, where Cradle Command’s brainjars took over piloting the craft above the tiaga to the Port Authority down south.

“You explain things quite well,” Michael said pointedly when he could finally relax. They were gliding smoothly, the graceful rotating wing pulling its load swiftly past the beacons on the glidepath.

“I thought you said you could pilot a notar,” Anselem said, the sneer in his voice plain.

Michael cut off the first response that welled. “I must have forgotten a great deal,” he said.

“You never knew how,” Anselem said flatly. “And you,” he said, tapping Jacinta on the shoulder, “deliberately lied to my father. And he let you. I don’t know why, but he let you change the topic from getting your jacks removed to taking me to the Port Authority. Cosimo cooperated. Why?”

Michael had noticed that, too, and hoped it meant that Cosimo was privy to Lord Santos’s plan. The elder son was a member of his private advisory board, so his knowing made sense. He hoped it would also curb his unwanted attentions toward Jacinta. Obviously, Anselem had not been informed; he was as rude and direct as ever.

“Oh, Anselem. You’re always looking for an argument. Must we now, too? You’ll be gone for so long, I’d hate to think that the last thing we did together was argue.”

“You’re trying to change the subject again,” Anselem said. “Father’s not here to take your side. Answer me!”

“Are you jealous, Anselem?” Michael asked. “Angry, perhaps, that your father and brother didn’t take you to the Port Authority?”

“Iceman, I have to tolerate you because you are my father’s guest. But for you to presume to analyze my motives is doubly insulting, first in assuming that you can distract me from my questions, and then in believing that you have any insight into my character at all. Now I’ll thank you to be quiet and let my cousin answer my question.”

Silently, Michael reminded himself not to underestimate Anselem again. He might be spoiled and immature, but he wasn’t stupid.

“Jacinta, I’m waiting.”

“I’ve forgotten what the question was,” Jacinta said lightly. “Now hush while I help Michael disengage from traffic control. We’ve arrived.”

“Jacinta, I’ll be of age when we next see each other,” Anselem said. “You’ll rue the day.”

Jacinta smiled tightly. “We’ll see,” she said.

“Jacinta, help!” Michael said. The notar was gaining rapidly on a pair of gyros in the glidepath, and a red light was flashing on the control panel.

“Push the nose down and power up,” she said, “and ease into the right-branching air corridor.”

They swung swiftly past the gyros and followed the corridor into a tetherlot. Michael glanced at Anselem in the heads-up display; the youngster was sitting with his chin in his hands, his eyes narrow with anger. Michael almost felt sorry for him; he’d been left out of an adult conspiracy, and he knew it.

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