Diamond Star (30 page)

"Hello," Mac said.

Del looked up with a jerk. "Oh!" He rubbed his palm over his cheek, so clearly smearing away tears that Mac's heart lurched.

Mac hesitated. "Do you mind if I join you?"

"Please do." Del motioned to the bench. "Have a seat."

Mac settled on the bench. "You're missing a great party. Ricki came all the way out here to Chicago to see you."

"She did?" Del's smile flashed. "That's good."

Mac spoke with care. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah. I'm fine." Del gave a shaky laugh. "It's just a lot, you know."

"You've earned it." That was putting it mildly, given the way Del had persevered with his music for his entire life despite nothing but negative feedback.

"It's so hard to believe," Del said. "Maybe I'm not a failure after all."

"You never were," Mac said gently.

Del's eyes gleamed in the moonlight. "Zachary commed me this morning. Prime-Nova is releasing
The Jewels Suite
worldwide. And did you see? Staver Aunchild is here! He wants to sell
The Jewels Suite
to Skolians." Del rubbed his palm over his eyes. "My father liked "Sapphire Clouds." He tried to like the others. I think he understood
about
my music, even if he didn't understand the songs. He knew I had to do it. He felt that way about his."

"You must miss him."

"Always." Del leaned back and gazed into the trees. "I guess I should tell my family. But what if they want me to stop?" He gave Mac a rueful glance. "I don't know why they would. I mean, I'm not far up any line of succession, and I'm no use for powering the Kyle-mesh. After all that time in cryo, it would kill me to use my mind that way. But if they want me home, it would be hard to say no."

"Would they force you?" Mac asked.

Del thought about it. "I'd like to think not. But I don't know." He smiled at Mac, a simple smile with no mischief, wicked glints, or surly undertones. Just a man who had received a gift he never expected. "Even if it ends tomorrow, Mac, this is one of the best things that ever happened to me."

Mac grinned. "Then come back and celebrate."

Together, they walked back to the hotel.

"Are you sure?" Mac said into his wrist comm. The van shook as they hovered over some bump in the road. "Can you talk louder? I can't hear you."

Del shifted around, unable to sit still. They were all gathered in the circular seat at the back of the van, except for Cameron and Randall, who were in seats up front. The van whirred on through the bright day, headed for the Sports Fields outside of Chicago.

"You must have another way!" Mac was saying. "What? No, this wasn't one of our tour stops. We were only asked yesterday to play the festival. We don't have any prep here."

Del glanced at Jud. "You have any idea what's wrong?"

Jud shook his head, his beaded dreadlocks clacking on his shoulders. "No clue."

"That isn't acceptable," Mac was saying. "Don't you have a pass-coded parking lot behind the stage?"

"For flipping sakes," Anne said. "He's mad about not having a parking space. He hates that."

Del tried to relax. Bad parking they could handle. The festival organizers had invited them at the last minute and agreed to pay a big fee for the request. It wouldn't surprise him if they had a mix-up, but he hoped not, because he wanted this show. The outdoor festival had over twenty of the biggest bands in holo-rock, including Jenny Summerland, the Conquistadors, and of course Mind Mix. Del hadn't performed in a show like this since his Philadelphia disaster. He wanted to prove he could do a good job.

Mac swore under his breath. Then he said, "What? Yeah. A guy named Cameron. Just one. You'll need to provide more."

Del glanced at Cameron, who was listening intently. "Do you know what they're talking about?"

"Security, probably," Cameron said. "Mac doesn't need me to park."

"Damn it," Mac said. "How could we plan for it? We were invited
yesterday.
I want two. Otherwise Del Arden doesn't play. Got that?"

"Wait a minute!" Del said. "Don't say--"

Mac shook his head, motioning Del to silence. Into his comm, he said, "Yes, that'll work. Behind the stage. Twenty minutes. Okay. Good."

As Mac switched off his comm, Del said, "Don't tell them I won't sing!"

"They don't have a secured lot for the van," Mac said.

Randall glared at him. "You need
two
parking pads?"

"Ah, hell," Jud said. "Not parking. He means the gauntlet."

Randall's attention perked up. "We're going to run the gauntlet? Cool."

"What gauntlet?" Del asked, bewildered.

Mac spoke quietly. "The audience is at six hundred thousand, twice what they expected."

"So?" Del said. "That's
good
."

Mac regarded him with a strange expression, as if he saw an avalanche poised over their heads. "It's a rowdy audience. It overflowed their security lines. You have to go onstage without a secured area."

"In other words, you have to mix with the crowd," Jud said.

Del shrugged. "So what? I don't need special treatment."

"Del's right." Randall's laugh rumbled. "Come on, guys. It'll be fun. We can sign autographs."

Mac gave him a dour look. "Before or after you get trampled?"

"Oh, come on," Randall said. "I've seen plenty of guys go on stage through the audience. So what? People yell and wave and ask you to sign vids. Big fucking deal."

Del finally understood. Mac didn't want a Skolian prince vulnerable in a crowd. He spoke gently. "Don't worry, okay? Remember when I told you about the cryogenics, and I said I wanted to make my own choices? I meant it, Mac. I'll be fine. If I get roughed up a bit, it's okay."

"I hate it," Mac said. "Any time someone touches you."

"Holy shit," Randall said. "You guys are, like,
lovers?
"

"For crying out loud." Del's face burned. "No, we are
not
'like, lovers.' He's worried about my safety, that's all."

"Father figure," Anne decided, studying Mac. "You're afraid to see Del hurt because he's like a son to you."

"Something like that," Mac said, looking awkward.

"What did you mean about cryogenics?" Bonnie asked Del.

Del wished he'd kept his mouth shut. "It's nothing."

"It's obviously something," Randall said.

Jud scowled at him. "And he obviously doesn't want to talk about it."

Anne spoke to Mac. "We'll be fine. It's no big deal."

Mac tried to smile. "Yeah. Sure. You have Cameron. And they're sending two of their security guys, just in case."

"So you see," Del said. "No need to worry."

"We can't get closer!" Mac said into his comm. Sweat covered his forehead despite the air-conditioned van.

They were stopped hundreds of yards from the pavilion where they were supposed to meet the two guards. Beyond the tent, the huge stage of the Chicago Sports Fields dominated the view. People flooded the area, and gleaming orbs rotated above the crowd, broadcasting music from the stage. No one in the unrepentant throng paid any attention to the vehicles mired among them. Security bots were keeping the crowds in check, but they didn't make anyone move. Given the unexpected size of the crowd, Del suspected the concert organizers wanted to avoid getting people angry or violent. He knew nothing about putting together festivals, but it seemed like lousy planning to him.

"We could just walk to the tent," Del said. "No one will know us."

"They might," Jud said. "Your face is all over the m-verse."

"It is?" Del had been on tour since "Diamond Star" rose up the charts. He'd listened to a few reviews, mainly for the novelty of hearing people actually say good things about his work, but the rest of the time he spent in his virts or asleep.

Except for that night with Ricki. She had stayed after the party--and left him to wake up alone. Again. Why? She said her job kept her busy. Right. He had made himself vulnerable when he admitted how much her leaving bothered him, and he felt as if she had thrown his trust back in his face. He could talk to her again, try to work it out, but he was beginning to wonder if he should. The ups and downs of their relationship drained him.

"What happened to the security guys?" Mac was saying into the comm. "No, an hour is
not
good. That's when Del goes on. We have to set up first. Yeah, I'll ask." He glanced at Del and the others. "This is George Morales, the stage manager. He wants to know if you all can get your equipment to the stage from here."

"We can carry the instruments," Jud said. "That's not the problem." He waved at the milling crowds on the view screens. "If we take our equipment out there, we'll be lucky to get it to the stage. As soon as people see, they'll know we're one of the bands. They might start grabbing our stuff."

"This drills," Cameron said. "Their security bots should have cleared out this place."

"It's a freedom festival," Randall said. "You know, no authoritarian control."

"What authoritarian?" Jud demanded. "The bots are flipping machines."

Mac gave them a sour look. "Freedom festival is a euphemism for 'license to misbehave.' "

"Oh, come on," Randall said. "They're just having fun."

"What happened to the guards they promised?" Cameron asked.

"They have some big, beefy types," Mac said. "But they need those guys to help the bots protect the performers. People keep rushing the stage, and the bots can't make subtle enough distinctions of who to stop and how." He gave Cameron a wry smile. "So it looks like you're our only big beef."

The Marine's eyes glinted. "You don't get bigger than me."

"Oh my," Anne said. "Do tell." Cameron actually cracked a smile at her.

Mac spoke into his comm. "Morales? The band doesn't think it's safe for their equipment. Yeah. Okay, I'll ask." He glanced at Jud. "They have a Voxerlight III-Beta on the stage. That's the same brand as your morpher, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Jud said. "But a different model. And it doesn't have my programs."

"Could you port your files to their Voxer?"

Jud didn't look thrilled with the idea. "Not unless they can guarantee the files will be protected. No duplication, and I erase it all after we finish."

Mac relayed the answer to the manager, then told Jud, "Morales says no problem. They do that all the time."

"I've never practiced on their Voxer," Jud said. "I'll probably make mistakes. Even if I don't, it won't sound exactly the same."

Mac motioned at the crowds on the view screens. "People aren't paying that much attention. I doubt anyone expects it to sound the same."

Jud nodded as if accepting a mission. "I'll do it."

"What stringers do they have?" Randall asked.

"And drums," Anne said.

Mac went back and forth with George until they settled on a set of drums for Anne, including smart-skins with AI programming. But they had no stringers Randall felt would work.

"Some people out there have guitar cases," Jud said. "If you put your stringer in one, you could carry it incognito."

"In cog
what
?" Randall said.

Anne gave a throaty laugh. "Incognito. In disguise."

Listening to them, Del had a sudden inspiration. He sang softly into his ticker to record the words he couldn't write. "I'm no fair-haired genius hiding in disguise / I'm no golden hero in the blazing skies."

"Yeah, well, good for you," Randall said. He looked at Mac. "I need a morph engine, too. And that's too heavy to carry."

"They have a Strato-premier Model Six onstage," Mac said. "Would that work?"

"Hell, yeah!" Randall sat up straighter. "I'd use a Strato any day."

"That solves the equipment problems," Bonnie said. She motioned at Del. "Now we have to get
him
up there." With a smile, she added, "No other model will do."

Del grinned at her. "I'm irreplaceable."

Mac considered him. "A lot of people out there have on VR goggles. You can hide your eyes with a pair and put your hair under a cap. If you wear one of my shirts over yours, to make you look bigger, probably no one will recognize you."

"Sounds good to me," Del said with a laugh. "Incognito."

"Okay," Mac said. "Here's the plan. Randall, you go first, so if anyone clicks to what we're doing, hopefully you'll already have your stringer up there. Jud, you go with Bonnie and Anne. Cameron and I will bring Del."

"What, no protection for my stringer?" Randal waved his hand at Del. "I know he's the big name and we're just hired help, but if my piece gets trashed, we got no music."

"You're not just hired help!" Del turned to Mac. "Send Cameron with him, then have Cameron come back for Anne and Bonnie."

"Hey," Jud said. "I can protect these lovely women."

Anne smirked at him. "I'm the one with the black belt in karate, sweets. I could kick your ass from here to Los Angeles."

Randall snorted. "I'll bet your boyfriend loves it when you talk that way."

"Does he?" Cameron asked her, suddenly intent.

She turned her sultry gaze on him. "I don't have a boyfriend."

"Del can kick," Bonnie said. "I've seen him practicing."

"I have, too," Anne said, glancing at Del. "The moves are different, though. Do you have a black belt?"

Perplexed, Del tapped his belt. "Yeah, this one."

Jud sighed. "Del, sometimes you have so little clue."

Mac spoke firmly. "No tossing people around, Del, unless you're in real danger."

Exasperated, Del answered, "I never said I'd toss anyone."

"Come on," Randall said. "Let's go."

Cameron eased open the side door, and he and Randall jumped down. No one paid attention. Randall held his stringer case between his body and Cameron as they headed for the pavilion. People were waiting for them at the entrance, and the air there
shimmered
as Cameron and Randall ducked inside.

Within moments, Cameron ambled out again. For some bizarre reason, he wandered around. Then Del realized that if he just strode back, it could draw attention; this way, no one noticed as he gradually drifted toward the van.

Anne, Bonnie, and Jud stepped out next, laughing together like any other festivalgoers. Del watched them on the screen. He didn't realize Cameron had slipped into the van until he looked up and saw his guard standing by his seat, bending his head to fit under the roof.