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Unfortunately, Mac had little doubt Del would jump at the contract once he understood what it meant, that Prime-Nova wanted him to sing, and as a career. If Del went pro, it would put a spotlight on him, inviting the attention of assassins, kidnappers, and God only knew who else. If anything happened to Del, Allied Space Command might as well just walk up to Skolia's Imperial Space Command and say, "Hey, let's have a war."
    Ricki stood next to Mac, watching Del and Greg in the studio. "He has an interesting range," Ricki said.
    Interesting. Right. As in a spectacular six octaves.
    "You could put it that way," Mac said.
    Zachary was standing on Ricki's other side. "He didn't bring a resume with him. Nothing about his experience."
    Mac glanced at him. "He's lived on a farm all his life."
    Ricki smirked. "What happens when you take one part very healthy farm boy, mix it with one part horny effing mother, and shake well? What a recipe."
    Mac barely held back his retort. Where did she come up with this stuff? The worst of it was, she was right. Del's mix of unsophisticated innocence and sensual wickedness would be dynamite. If he ended up on the holo-rock scene, a lot of people would talk about him like that. Maybe Del would be so insulted, he would walk away. Mac doubted it, though. It mattered far more to Del to have people like his music than for them to address him with deference, particularly given how much he resented his title.
    Mac didn't know how to answer. He couldn't tell them anything until he discussed it with Del--and Allied Space Command.
    "Are you saying he has no experience?" Zachary asked.
    Mac knew they were bargaining, trying to counter the demands they expected him to make. So he said, "That's right. None." It was true, after all. For all they knew, when faced with making a living through his music, Del might fail miserably.
    Both Ricki and Zachary stared at him as if they had run into a wall. They expected tough negotiation and instead he talked down his client. Yep. No experience.
    Ricki slanted a look at the VP, and he nodded slightly. She turned back to Mac. "Half his songs are in some other language." She sounded genuinely curious. "Who writes his material?"
    "He does mostly," Mac said. "What did he sing in English?"
    "Something about running and blue clouds," Ricki said. "Another about emeralds."
    " The Crystal Suite ," Mac said. "Yes, that's his." At least Del hadn't sung "Carnelians," his rant about the Trader Aristos. Although it was one of his most powerful pieces, the lyrics revealed far too much about his identity.
    "Can't call it the Crystal Suite ," Zachary said. "It sounds like a drug reference."
    Mac wanted to throw up his hands in exasperation. Already they were appropriating Del's work. "They're his titles."
    "Does he write his own music?" Ricki asked.
    "The first draft," Mac said. "Jud Taborian works with him on arrangements." An idea came to Mac. "You may have heard of Jud. He's making quite a name for himself in the undercity."
    A frown marred Ricki's perfect face. "I don't need any undercity assholes pulling their diva act."
    Well, that was diplomatic. Mac motioned toward Del. "Just look, Ricki. He has undercity written all over him. You don't want undercity, you don't want Del."
    "We didn't say we didn't want him," Zachary told him. "But you have to admit, his lack of experience is a drawback."
    Mac shrugged. "That's the way it is."
    Ricki and Zachary shared another of those glances. Then Ricki said, "We're willing to take a risk on this one, Mac. A firm commitment, two anthology cubes, both holo-vids."
    Risk, hell. A typical vid only held ten songs. Del had enough material to fill five cubes. Vids were simple, just holographic movies that played as if the artists were in the room. Viewers could rotate them, zoom in or out, pull down a story vid, customize the songs for themselves. Prime-Nova should be offering Del a virt, or virtual reality simulation. Virt users weren't passive