Breaking Point (The Endurance #8)

Chapter One

WHEN DEVAR TOUCHED HER ARM and discreetly pointed toward the group of tables at the back of the ballroom, Luciana’s plans for the evening abruptly changed.

“Remarkable,” Devar said with his precise pronunciation. “I thought nothing short of a hull breach would eject him from his ivory tower.”

Luciana watched Brice Falcon shaking hands around the big table where all the extra special guests were seated.

He leaned over the table to do it, while gripping the handle of his cane.

She guessed that he would rather lean over burning candles and vases of flowers and risk dipping the edges of his suit jacket into plates of food than take the effort to walk around the table, because for him that would actually be an effort.

“I’d forgotten about the cane,” she murmured, as Falcon settled carefully on a chair that a waiter had scurried to provide. “It’s not in his photo on the Forum.”

“I guess it’s a thing for him, the cane,” Caelen said. She seemed to be just as interested in watching the President of the Tankball Association arrive at his own soiree. “Didn’t he hurt his leg in a tankball game, and that’s why he retired?”

Luciana liked Caelen. She wore a pretty dress in a deep green that made the most of her eyes and offset her dark hair.

She was young, yet smart. Her personality dovetailed with Devar’s in a way that had made her son quietly content for the few weeks since they had met.

That anyone could made Devar content was as remarkable as Brice Falcon attending the Tankball Association’s wildly popular annual soiree.

“It wasn’t a game that destroyed his leg,” Devar said. “It was a pod collision on the Artery. They put his leg back together, but a lot of muscle and function was lost.”

“Ouch,” Caelen murmured. “And he was a groundsman, too.” Groundsmen needed all the muscle they could build to play in up to two gees of gravity at the bottom of the tank. Caelen was a tankball fan, while Devar was not. He just remembered things. Small things, big things.

Luciana sipped her champagne and returned her attention to Brice Falcon, her mind moving into business mode. She always came to the soiree purely to enjoy herself. It was one of her few indulgences. Only now that Brice Falcon was here, that changed things.

This was an opportunity she should not let pass, because trying to deal with Falcon was next to impossible.

He was surrounded by too many layers and besides, he didn’t want to deal with her.

At least, the total silence and lack of response she got from his official channels of communication had demonstrated that he did not want to talk to her.

She had been trying to start a conversation with the man because he owned, among other things, five stalls in the Capitol market space that she wanted to buy. If she could acquire them, she would become the largest stall management company on the Endurance.

Besides, the five stalls were smack in the middle of the group of stalls she already managed.

She wanted to remove the blight. Falcon’s stalls were not well managed.

The displays of products and produce were badly laid out, and under-equipped, the signage poorly designed and the artisans selling their wares generally surly or too busy doing whatever it was behind their tables, instead of stepping out to greet potential customers and talk to them.

Yes, she wanted to change that. She would make them viable, well-producing stalls inside a month, even if she had to train the sellers and artisans herself.

And now the man himself was here, sitting barely thirty meters away. Luciana narrowed her eyes, wondering how she could wrangle an introduction. Should she go bold, and walk up to him and ask him for a dance? No, no, the cane…he didn’t dance.

“Uh-oh,” Devar said. “Mother, you’re wearing that look again.”

“What look?” Caelen asked.

“She’s thinking about money and hatching plans.”

“I am not,” Luciana protested. “Well, I’m not thinking about money. But I am trying to figure out how I can talk to Falcon. Do you know him, Devar?”

Devar’s smile was self-aware. “Why would I know him?”

“Well, you are the new head coder for Aventine through-feeds,” she said.

Devar’s smile grew. “Almost right. Code Director for Aventine In Feeds. Through feeds don’t exist.”

While Caelen laughed, Luciana waved her hand at him. “I was close!”

“A lot closer than you’ve ever got so far.

” Devar’s smile was warm—the little smile he seemed to keep just for people who were close to him, which was too few in Luciana’s estimation.

Most people found her son off-putting. In that regard, he was too intelligent for his own good.

He had no tolerance for stupidity, and even less patience for ignorance.

As ignorance and stupidity were common commodities, he moved through his days growing increasingly more frustrated because everyone else failed to keep up with his speed of thought and leaps of reasoning.

He was a good man, all the same. Even though their hands were below the table, Luciana knew Devar was holding Caelen’s small clever hand in his. And this new promotion at the organic coding institute seemed to suit him. It at least challenged him a little, enough to hold his attention.

She wasn’t entirely sure what he did. It sounded important, only she didn’t care. To see him happy was enough. She didn’t need to know anything else.

“I thought that because you’re dealing with Aventine feeds,” Luciana said carefully, “that you might have met tankball people, as the arena is right here in the Aventine.”

“I have met many Tankball Association people,” Devar said. “Brice Falcon is out of my league. I’m just a coder.”

“A code director,” Luciana corrected him.

Caelen laughed and rested her hand briefly on Devar’s shoulder. “She got you.”

Devar chuckled, too.

“Why do you want to speak to Falcon, Luciana?” Caelen asked.

“Do you know him?” Luciana said.

“I don’t think anyone knows him, much,” Caelen said. “He leaves all the PR and communications stuff to his general manager, um…”

“Bronson Summitt,” Devar supplied.

“Bronson Summitt,” Caelen went on, with a quick smile of thanks at Devar. “Falcon just directs everything and everyone else sees that it gets done.”

“He does a bit more than that,” Devar said. “There was a time when tankball games were lucky to have a dozen people watching them. Now you have to fight for tickets to a game—I’ve watched you do it. Capacity crowds at every game…the Endurance comes to a halt whenever there is a game on.”

“Hardly,” Caelen said, with teasing tone. “It will take the Endurance a hundred years to slow to a halt.”

“Engineer,” Devar accused her.

“Coder,” she shot back.

They smiled at each other.

Luciana sipped her champagne, a glow of pleasure warming her. Her son was happy.

She was almost tempted to forget about business tonight, even with Brice Falcon sitting right over there, and soak in the sight of Devar and Caelen enjoying each other’s company.

Devar stirred, and pulled his attention back to Luciana.

“Anyway, when there is a game on, everything inside the Endurance halts. That’s unprecedented in the history of the ship.

And that change happened when Brice Falcon took the President’s chair.

So he might stay locked in his tower, but he isn’t doing nothing. ”

“And I thought you hated tankball,” Caelen teased.

“I don’t hate it,” Devar said, his tone serious. “I just find it…irritating. Too much is decided by chance. The gravity of the ball at any one time, when the gravity changes—it’s too many random factors. Chess, now…that is pure logic and reasoning.”

“Isn’t what your opponent plays a factor of chance?” Caelen asked, before Luciana could point it out.

“It’s just new data, which can be incorporated into calculating your next move,” Devar replied.

“That’s exactly why I like tankball,” Caelen said. “You never know what will happen next. It’s exciting. Thrilling, even—especially in the finals. Upsets are some of the best games!”

Devar shook his head sadly. “It’s a good thing I love all of you.”

Caelen laughed. “All of me but especially my brain.”

Devar’s smile had a touch of wickedness. “No, that wasn’t it…” he said, and scratched his chin as if he was straining to remember.

Caelen slapped his arm.

Luciana got to her feet, which took a bit of effort, as her ballgown had a dozen layers underneath the red and black fabric.

It was an outrageously exotic and over the top gown, one of the most elaborate in the room.

That was part of the fun for Luciana. This was the only night in the year when one could wear such a garment.

“You’re going to talk to him?” Devar asked, sounding both surprised and alarmed.

“Stars, no. I want to talk business with him. Strong arming him into a confrontation will just make him resent me and kill any business we might do.”

Devar looked relieved.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” Luciana told them.

She headed for the washrooms, which were inside the arena, while the ball itself was held in front of the building, in a securely roped off area that was shielded, here and there, with screens holding flowers and greenery.

Anyone standing out in the Aventine could glimpse the attendees dancing and drinking through the gaps in the screens.

Many of the images that appeared on the Forum in the days after the ball were taken through those gaps.

It just seemed to drive the popularity of the ball even higher.

She replayed the little conversation she had left, the way Caelen and Devar teased each other, the ongoing jokes. It all sounded so…normal. Her son was happy. Luciana hugged the knowledge to herself, letting it warm her and make her happy.

Screw Falcon. At least for tonight.