Read Aurora in Four Voices for Free Online Page B

nightmare was a blur in his mind. "Nothing I said would have made any difference."
    "But why, Jato? Judging from how the Dreamers treat you — forgive me for saying it, but they act as if they don't like having you around."
    "They think I'm revolting."
    "So why make you stay?"
    His voice tightened. "Because of Granite Crankenshaft."
    "What is that?"
    "Not what. Who. A Dreamer. He wanted me to be his model. For life. To sit for him with nothing in return but the 'honor' of living here. I told him no. I thought he was crazy."
    She stared at him. "He framed you for murder because you wouldn't be his model?"
    "I don't know why. He finds me as repulsive as everyone else here." Jato spread his hands. "He used blackmail because it's more effective than abduction. As long as I cooperate, he won't call in the Imperial authorities."
    "All because he wants to paint your picture?"
    "Not paint. Holosculpture. It's on his web. I've never seen what he's doing." He exhaled. "The stakes are high, Soz. His sculptures bring in millions. A few have gone for billions."
    She drew him to a stop. "This Crankenshaft — does he have glittering hair?"
    "I don't know. It's too short to tell."
    "Black?"
    "Yes."
    "How about his eyes?"
    "Grey, with red rings."
    "Bloodshot?"
    "No. The irises have red in them."
    She blew out a gust of air. "This is making more sense."
    "It is?"
    "The Traders established this colony."
    It wasn't her comment that surprised him, but how she said it, as an accepted fact rather than a long-debated theory the Dreamers vehemently denied. The Traders were a genetically engineered race distinguished by red eyes, and black hair with a distinctive shimmering quality. Their creators had only been trying to engineer for a higher pain tolerance, but the work produced an unplanned side-effect: Traders felt almost no emotional pain either — they had no compassion.
    A race with no compunction about hurting people could do a lot of damage. Fast. When they began to spread the stain of their brutality across the stars, the colonized worlds had two choices: submit to them or join the Imperialate. As far as Jato knew, no one had ever willingly chosen the Traders.
    There were those who claimed the Dreamers descended from a group of Trader geniuses morally opposed to their own brutal instincts. They manipulated their genes to rid themselves of those instincts and produced their translucent coloring as an unexpected side-effect. It led them to settle on Ansatz in the forgiving dark, where they traded the fruits of their genius for dreams, in penance for the sins of their violent siblings.
    "It's possible Crankenshaft carries throwback genes," Jato said. "His wife, too. She's like ice."
    Soz considered him. "You realize that except for your eyes and the relative dullness of your hair, you could pass for a Trader."
    He stiffened. "Like hell. I can trace my family — "
    "Jato." She laid her hand on his arm. "No one would ever mistake you for a Trader. It's the Dreamers' problem, not yours. They evolved themselves into a mild people, rejecting their heritage. Your large size, dark hair, and muscular build may stir memories they can't deal with. It's probably why your appearance bothers them."
    A strange thought, that. It would never have occurred to him that perhaps he repulsed the Dreamers because he reminded them of themselves.
    She peered down the stairs, though they were too far up to see much except the lonely circle of light from a lamp at the bottom. "Who do you think activated the Wind Lions?" She turned back to him. "Are we up against the city government or this Crankenshaft? Or both?"
    He considered. "Most city officials don't believe I was set up. Those few involved with the set up would be more subtle, use a scenario easier to pass off as an accident. This is Crankenshaft's style. He would go for drama and make it look like I planned it, some rape-murder-suicide thing."
    "Charming man," she muttered. "Stupid, though. ISC would never buy