Curse of the Iris Read Online Free PDF Page B

Both groups had hard eyes and looked like they were in a hurry.
    But then the Hashoones passed a tavern whose holographic sign had decayed into a smudge of light. A knot of men standing outside caught Tycho’s eye. They dripped with tattoos and earrings and wore carbines on their belts, with bandoliers crisscrossed across their chests. Several had the same patchs on the shoulders of their jumpsuits: the stylized face of a wolf, white on a black background.
    Lumbaba tugged at Tycho’s elbow.
    â€œBad men. Do not attract their attention.”
    â€œSo you work in the refinery, Mr. Lumbaba?” Yana asked.
    â€œYes,” Lumbaba said. “I analyze complex compounds. It is not so different from my father’s prospecting. Except I do not have to leave Titan.”
    â€œHow old were you when your father left?” Tycho asked as they entered an elevator and descended below the surface.
    â€œTwo,” Lumbaba said. “I do not remember him. My mother swore he would return, that he always had before.”
    â€œDoes your mother know the news?” Tycho asked.
    â€œYes,” Lumbaba said. “She had the courts declare him dead years ago, because the insurance claim would allow me to attend school. But she never believed it. Not until we received your message.”
    Tycho nodded, not sure what to say. The elevator doors opened, and Lumbaba inclined his head, indicating they should go first.
    â€œWhen I was a boy, I believed her stories,” he said quietly. “Every day I told myself that this would be the day my father made contact, to say he was coming home. But eventually I realized it wasn’t true. . . . Our home is right this way.”
    A dull metal door slid aside with a groan, and the Hashoones stepped into a little room with bare metal walls. A cabinet and a cooking unit with a single burner sat in the corner. There were plastic stools scattered around a low table and a couch against the wall, between two closed doors. A green-and-gold blanket covered most of the couch. Those were the only colors in the room except for the dull orange glow of a portable heater.
    Tycho realized a figure sat huddled on the couch, a lined face peering out from a dark mass of robes.
    â€œMy mother,” Japhet Lumbaba said, thumbing the door shut behind them.
    The woman struggled to her feet and bowed, then indicated they should sit on the couch. Carlo plopped himself down, discarding his helmet on the table in front of him. Yana and Tycho looked at each other, then settled themselves carefully beside their brother. Captain Lumbaba’s widow shuffled over to the cabinet and returned with a tray and three small cups with steam curling above them.
    â€œThank you,” Yana said, sipping immediately. Tycho did the same. The tea was strong and bitter, but he managed not to grimace.
    â€œExcellent,” he said with a smile. “Thank you, ma’am.”
    â€œIs it coffee?” Carlo asked, hand poised above the tray.
    â€œTea,” Japhet said.
    â€œI’m fine then,” Carlo said.
    They waited for Mrs. Lumbaba to return and take a seat beside her son on one of the stools.
    Carlo unfastened his carryall and extracted a small bundle wrapped in rough cloth. He turned to Lumbaba, who inclined his head toward his mother. Carlo got up awkwardly, the spacesuit hampering his movements, and held out the bundle to the old woman. She looked up at him for a moment, baffled, then slowly raised her arms.
    â€œWe thought you would want Captain Lumbaba’s personal effects,” Carlo said, placing the bundle in her hands.
    Mrs. Lumbaba stared at the bundle in her lap. A bump sounded from behind one of the closed doors. Tycho looked questioningly at Japhet.
    â€œMy grandmother,” he said. “She is not well.”
    He leaned over and spoke softly to his mother, then gently opened the bundle for her, revealing a stack of his father’s shirts. Sitting atop the