Chapter Nine

Krogan burst into his apartment. "Hope! Hope!"

The scarlet sunset painted a pink blush over the vacant living room.

He ran to her bedroom, almost smacking into the door because it didn't open fast enough. "Hope!"

She wasn't in the bedroom or the bath. Panic thrummed in his chest, and the sick feeling worsened. She left me. She caught a flight back to Terra Nova at the spaceport.

She can't do that! We have a contract!

We'll see about that!

If the ship hadn't left yet, he'd drag her off the vessel and force her to live up to her commitment. A deal is a deal. He charged out of the bath, stopping short at the sight of two dresses hanging in the closet. He recognized the green one from the day before. The other, yellow with white flowers, looked frayed and faded. The sleeve cuffs and the hem were ragged, and he spotted mended tears in the fabric.

She wouldn't have left without her clothes .

Unless she left these behind. They are practically rags.

Except her carryall had been folded and placed on a shelf.

Again, he was struck by the paucity of her belongings.

A vague sense of guilt settled over him, adding to the emotional stew. He left her suite and verified she wasn't in his room or the other bedrooms.

Maybe Don One knows something.

He found the android in the kitchen.

"Good evening, Krogan," Don One greeted him. "Are you ready for a meal?"

"No. Do you have any idea where Hope is?"

"Yes. She is on Caradonia."

He closed his eyes. Not the bot's fault. Not the bot's fault. It could only perform to its programming specs. Although a conversational model, it answered questions literally. He opened his eyes. "What time did she leave the apartment?"

"She left at three forty-one and sixteen seconds."

"Did she indicate where she was going?"

"No."

"Did she talk to you today?"

"Yes. "

"What did she say?"

"Good morning, Don Juan. Could you make me some breakfast, please? Thank you. This looks very nice. Could you show me the kitchen? Does this contraption bake? Would you show me how it works, please? How do you acquire food? Is there such a thing as wheat flour , sugar , yeast , cinnamon , butter , eggs , and baking powder on—"

"What are those things?" Krogan's translator did not compute.

"She said they are cooking ingredients to make bread, cakes, and sweet rolls."

"She asked you to show her the kitchen and explain how the appliances worked?"

"Yes."

She desired to prepare food? Could she have left the apartment to try to find the ingredients? "Did you tell her to order the cooking ingredients, and they are delivered to the apartment?"

"Yes. She asked if I could order flour, sugar, yeast, cinnamon, butter, eggs, and baking powder. I told her I could not because those items are not on the grocery registry. "

It wouldn't make sense to go in search of those strange ingredients when she had to leave to get married.

He couldn't imagine she would have ventured out on her own at all, given how nervous she'd been about vapping by herself. Because he was so busy, he ignored her trepidation. Fizzak . He could kick himself. Why hadn't he picked her up? She was his wife!

Or would have been if he hadn't been such a self-absorbed jerk. I'm responsible for this.

But where can she be? He'd never forgive himself if harm befell her.

"What else did she say?"

"Thank you for the information. Thank you for cleaning my dress. Do you know how I can acquire other clothing? How long—"

"What did you tell her about the clothes?"

"That I could not order any because you had not granted her permission to charge to the household account."

Fizzak! He couldn't believe how badly he'd messed up. "She has full permission to order anything she wants," he said. "What else did she say?"

"How long have you served Krogan?"

"What did you tell her? "

"Ten years, six months, four days, twelve minutes, and sixteen seconds."

Don One had been his first luxury purchase when he'd begun his rise to the top and moved into his first "nice" apartment in a lower-level unit. That was one of the reasons why he kept Don One as is and didn't upgrade his programming or replace him with a newer model. He was sentimentally attached to the bot.

"Continue," he said. "What else did she say?"

"What time does Krogan normally get home from work?"

"And you said?"

"You return at varying times, but the average time is eight fifty-one and forty-eight seconds."

That late? He hadn't realized, but other than last night, he couldn't recall when he'd watched the sunset—his favorite time of the day. There were so many big, critical issues to deal with, there never seemed to be enough time.

"Anything else?"

"No."

"All right."

"Are you ready for your evening meal now?"

"No. I'll wait for Hope." If she comes home. What could have happened to her? She'd left right on time! " We'll take our evening meal together in the future." He'd make a concerted effort to get home well before 8:51:48. There would always be work to do. Staying late wouldn't change that. He started to leave the kitchen then halted. Be precise. "But whenever Hope asks for a meal, give it to her."

In the living room, the last dregs of the sunset blazed across the sky. His stomach knotted with worry. I have to go look for her. He'd start at the officiant's office. Then the spaceport. But aside from those two places, he had no idea where else to search.

"Don One!" he called out. "I'm going to find Hope. If she comes home before I get back, tell her to stay—"

The front door slid open. Hope stood there—with a man.

"This is it! Thank you so much, Larth. You are a lifesaver," she said.

"My pleasure."

His pleasure?

"Come visit me, and I'll show you around the market," the man said.

The fizzak she will!

Krogan didn't know what happened. One second, he felt sick with worry; the next, he was seething with anger. They were supposed to be getting married, and she'd befriended another man?

His errant bride entered, and the door slid shut behind her.

"Where the fizzak have you been?" he demanded.