EVE Fiction

PART II

14 HOURS LATER

The first thing he noticed was a throbbing in his head. This pain was being made worse in its intensity by a beeping. He was not instantly sure of where he was or what the noise was. Squeezing his eyes more tightly shut, as if that would block out the noise, he tried to resume sleeping. The noise persisted. He opened his eyes. The room was dark, the holoscreen having dimmed. He was still in his suit, lying on the couch. The glass and two empty bottles sat on the table and floor respectively. Obviously within arm’s reach. His holopad was emitting an alert indicating an impending appointment. He reached to cancel it when he realized it was the charity auction.

He shot straight up, stumbling to the bathroom. He looked in the mirror. The reflection did not fill him with confidence. He threw water on his face and then leaned down to the faucet gulping the water out. He was so thirsty. His head panged on. He usually slept through most of this; he had not experienced a severe hangover in months. Seconds later, a terrible feeling in his stomach indicated that drinking so much water had been unwise. He began to vomit it back into the sink along with whatever else had been in his stomach. Had he eaten last night? He could not remember.

The nausea subsided but he was beginning to realize he was still drunk. Even if he could clean up in time he was bound to smell like a distillery. Going anywhere in this condition was out of the question. But he had to attend. Lord Draconis was a friend, he had promised, questions would be asked about his absence. It would look very bad. He stumbled across his quarters, gingerly holding his head and stomach. There was only one thing to do.

Twenty minutes later he had managed to install himself into his capsule and engaged the transneural burning scanner and lethal injection system. Seconds later he was hundreds of meters from where he started on a whole different level of the station. Technicians began to rinse the new body of its clone fluids. He was handed a robe. “Your Lordship, we have arranged transportation back to your quarters.”

“Good. Inform my private secretary to prepare my ship.”

“Yes sir.”

“And tell him to cancel my surgical appointment.”

PRESENT
CONCORD Assembly Bureau – Kihtaled VIII
Nohshayess Constellation – Khanid

Everything had been going fine. He did not drink when he arrived at the Golden Lounge and once on the surface and in the ballroom he ordered nothing but water. A first water, a second water, and a third water. But then a glass of rum. Just one could do no harm. Nor could the second. But he kept drinking them. He decided to slow down when he realized he had become unsteady. The new clone could not process alcohol as well. He switched to wine. That is when he dropped his glass. He played it off as if it had simply been wet and slipped from his grasp. A woman, Nicoletta Mithra, who he had been talking to showed concern as did someone else he had met, a man called Eran Mintor, whose glance from across the table told Ibrahim he had to get out of there and fast. He excused himself to the rest room, splashed some water on his face, trying to sober up enough to get off the planet. He went to the host, apologized, and just barely made it out in time.
Now he was sitting in the suite he rented. He had to be more careful. He opened a bottle.

Reserved for Part IV

Heh. Samira thought he was drinking a bit much, but refrained from commenting. And politely pretended not to notice his dropping the glass. Must maintain proper respect for Holders, even if they aren't being dignified themselves! <.<

Interested in reading the rest. :)