Through the panoramic viewport, hyperspace was a chaotic river of incandescent white, a blurred rush of stars tearing through the velvet expanse of the deep dark.
Mirage, at the controls, acknowledged them with a raised chin.
‘Have at it, you two. The ship is on autopilot. Idan, you’ve got the captain’s seat. I’m taking a few hours for my node to regenerate while working through a series of simulations.’
‘Sante,’ Sheba said with a smile and a wave as Mirage vanished.
The couple settled onto the cushioned double crash couch.
Idan pulled Sheba into the heat of his chest, his arms a solid, warm barricade against the isolation of deep space.
She turned in his embrace, her hands framing his face as she sought his mouth.
They kissed, a slow, unhurried exchange that tethered them to the present moment, as the ship carried them toward the mysterious heart of theDraquisempire.
23
A Dance With Dragons
The sleek flyer descended toward an obsidian monolith skyscraper, its polished surfaces reflecting the ambient bioluminescent light of Enia’s skyline.
The craft touched down on the roof of a soaring tower.
Idan, Molan, and Sheba stepped out from the gangway onto the reinforced glass of the landing pad.
They all wore evening wear, given the late hour: Idan and Molan in dark suits, and Sheba in a strapless, ankle-length champagne gown courtesy of Mirage.
The dress featured studs and a sweetheart neckline, accentuating her shoulders and décolletage.
Idan couldn’t keep his eyes off her.
Fokk, she was beautiful.
‘Welcome to the rooftop of TheRoyale. Avenue that exists as less of a social club and more of a monument to unimaginable pleasure,’ Mirage told the trio as she appeared before them. ‘Follow me. Miko took the privilege of sending me encrypted credentials, which should get us through security without question.’
To illustrate her point, a phalanx of armored sentinels who stood at the entrance to the building shifted aside without protest as they approached.
They stepped into an elevator that descended whisper-quiet through a succession of levels, finally opening onto a lush atrium.
A decadent atmosphere they strolled into was saturated with the perfume of exotic flora and the thick haze of premium tobacco.
Wyvern emblems, embossed in brushed chrome, snarled from the velvet upholstery, their bejeweled wings glittering in the radiance of chandeliers above.
Deep, bass rhythms throbbed through the floorboards.
On a series of elevated stages danced spinning, gyrating bodies, their skin coated in a sheen of oil and powdered gold.
At the bar, mixologists flamed cocktails, sending arcs of violet and orange licking toward the ceiling before the concoctions vanished into crystal tumblers.
Beyond a barrier of heavy plum-colored velour half-open doors, he glimpsed a private sanctum hummed with the murmur of currency and high-stakes desperation.
Idan noted the flash of jewel-toned dice and the crisp snap of cards, as well as a dizzying number of credit exchanges that might destabilize a planetary government.
The place overflowed with a wild variety of wealthy punters and rapacious guests. Idan kept his woman close, his hand sliding to her lower back, all the while appreciating the looks she attracted in her stunning gown.
Mirage led the trio toward a set of stairs that rose to a glass-walled cube.
It hung over the club’s chaos, a corral of silver and black glass, its mirrors reflecting the sins of the crowd below back upon them.
