Serpent's Gift Read Online Free Page A

shoulder when they'd danced--LaRoche moved with an athlete's grace and balance. For two years running he'd been StarBridge's low-gee gliding champion.
    "Serge!" she said, walking toward him, her hand out. Her theater training stood her in good stead, as she kept her features composed, showing only pleased surprise instead of the tension churning within her. "How are you?"
    "Fine," he said, reaching out to shake hands. "It is a pleasure to see you again, Hing."
    They had known each other for a long time; Hing felt, but did not react to, the inhuman smoothness and coolness of Serge's fingers as they grasped hers.
    The memory of the first time they'd met filled her memory ... she'd insisted on shaking hands, human style, instead of returning his Mizari bow. But, even though she'd already known that his hands were artificial, Hing hadn't been prepared for how inhumanly cool they were--and hadn't been able to conceal an involuntary wince.
    Serge had grinned tightly, but his eyes had been filled with an
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    old, cold anger as he'd held up his hands, wriggling the long, tapered fingers, letting her see the too-perfect cuticles, the faint sheen of nails that would never grow or chip. "Don't worry," he said lightly, with an ease born of many repetitions, "they were fed this morning."
    "Oh, God," Hing stammered, her face flaming, "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to--"
    "Please..." His brittle composure softened, and a genuine smile replaced the strained grin. "Don't. It was my fault, I should have warned you."
    "What.. . how ..." she trailed off, stammering, even though] she knew how it had happened.
    "An accident with my parents' aircar, six years ago. I was fourteen." Serge had flexed his fingers, then snapped them. "They| work very well... in some ways better than the original ones, I was very fortunate that the doctors were able to adapt Mizari technology so successfully when they made them for me."
    Now, shaking his hand, al she could think about was how long it had been since they'd spoken or been alone together. Her heart had long since stopped jumping when she'd caught sight of him in the hallways, but you couldn't just wipe out six months as though they had never happened. "It's nice to see you, too," she said quietly, noticing that he still wore her gift, a small sapphire stud, in his left earlobe. She'd taken the ring he'd given her off the night of their breakup, and hadn't put it on since.
    Serge smiled automatically at the pleasantry, but she could see the strain in it, and realized that he was far more nervous than she was. There was an eagerness in his eyes that made her drop her gaze and glance at her watch.
    "We'd better get going," she reminded him. "Those kids are probably swinging from the ceiling fixtures by now, waiting this long."
    Serge nodded, then fell into step beside her in the featureless tube of the docking corridor. "Only the Simiu ones, if we are in luck," he said, matching her light tone. Although his English was extremely fluent, he spoke with the formality of one who is not a native-born speaker; despite his years at StarBridge, he'd never lost his Gallic accent.
    Hing spoke French wel herself, though she'd learned the language in Canada, and it had taken her months to get used to Serge's speech patterns and accent when he spoke his native tongue.
    "What brings you to the station?" he continued. "Are you serving as an Orientation Guide now?"
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    "Heaven forbid," Hing said devoutly. "I'll leave that to you, I don't have the patience. No, Rob asked me to come up and meet my new roommate."
    "Who is?" He checked the student roster he carried.
    "Heather Farley."
    Serge repeated the name to the Mizari voder he wore on his wrist, and Hing saw an image form on the tiny screen . .. round, freckled features, pale green eyes, and unruly carrot-colored curls. "She's rather young, isn't she?" Serge said.
    "Only eleven," Hing replied. "I'm going to try my hand at being a role model."
    She grimaced.
    Caught off-guard,