Star Crossed

by C. Gockel

  “It’s beautiful,” she breathed. Of course she had seen images of other planets, even ones as lush and lovely as this one, but they didn’t convey the sense that these water worlds somehow appeared in real space as delicate jewels that could be cupped in the palm of one’s hand.

  He made a noncommittal sound.

  Trust Thorn to ignore the aesthetics of the situation, Miala thought, but she was amused rather than annoyed. Quite possibly he had seen planets much more impressive, but she was still enchanted by the promise those glowing colors represented. Were there real oceans down there, mile upon mile of water completely uncontained by any sort of storage facility?

  She did not have time for further contemplation of the planet’s beauties, however, as a hostile female voice suddenly sounded over the comm.

  “Unidentified ship, this is Callia Spaceport Authority. State your name and business.”

  Thorn leaned in toward the comm. “Callia Spaceport Authority, this is the light cargo vessel Endeavor II, inbound from Lathvin IV. Transmitting ship I.D. and cargo manifest now.” He tapped away at the modified keyboard to his right, no doubt sending the promised information to ground control.

  Miala raised an eyebrow, and he gave her a small, tight smile before saying, “Always have a cover story prepared. We could have made planetfall in stealth mode and maybe none the wiser, but we’re trying to look legitimate—and I’m not here on business, anyway.”

  She nodded, and then the comm beeped again.

  “Endeavor II, you are cleared to land on pad 127 in the port in Chistan Major—or what’s left of it. Transmitting coordinates.”

  Thorn lifted an eyebrow. “Callia Spaceport Authority? Clarify ‘what’s left of it’?”

  Something that sounded suspiciously like a sigh came over the comm. “Full details aren’t available at this time. However, a large portion of our coastal resorts have been decimated by a series of tidal waves. Chistan Major is partially located on high ground, so the spaceport there is still intact. Mostly.”

  Miala wondered what a tidal wave was, then decided this was probably not the best time to ask. It didn’t sound good, however.

  Thorn appeared to hesitate for a moment, and then said, “Coordinates accepted, Callia Spaceport Authority. Preparing for our descent into Chistan Major.” He toggled the comm, then glanced over at Miala. “Better strap yourself in. I’m not sure what’s going to meet us down there.”

  “Wouldn’t it be better to just turn around and leave?” But even as she asked the question, Miala slid into the co-pilot’s seat and began struggling with the elaborate safety harness.

  His response was immediate. “No. That would look suspicious, and since this is my first time here, I don’t have a lot of intel as to what kind of a system force they have and how zealous they are. Sounds like they were hit with some kind of natural disaster, anyway, and not an enemy attack. It may be kind of a mess, but that may work to our advantage. If they’re busy with cleaning up the place, they’re not going to be paying much attention to us.”

  As he spoke his hands were busy on the controls, and the blue-green disk of the planet expanded in the forward viewport until Miala had the sensation that they were falling into it, captured by its gravity, certain to disappear into its vast oceans. Suddenly the concept of that much water wasn’t all that appealing.

  But of course they weren’t falling, but sweeping in a smooth, controlled dive that took them through the upper levels of the atmosphere and then down into billows of grayish-white material that Miala at first couldn’t place and then realized must be clouds. On Iradia the only clouds one ever saw were high, thin strips of cirrus formations against the metallic blue sky, but she had read that clouds were composed of water vapor and could be quite developed on some planets.

  As they were here, obviously—so much so that as the Fury dropped lower into the atmosphere, their misty consistency turned into discrete water droplets and then, as the ship finally emerged from the cloud cover, outright rain. They were flying low over a silvery gray landscape partially obscured by the heavily falling precipitation, and so all Miala could make out was the low jagged edge of a continent moving up toward them through the drifting veils of moisture. She wondered how anyone could fly in such conditions, thought that perhaps Iradia’s unending blue skies had their positives. But Eryk Thorn seemed unfazed by the torrents of water, slowing the Fury to get it into position to land on its designated pad, and suddenly her only view was of a square patch of gray sky and a frightening quantity of loose water streaming off the forward viewport.

  Once again the comm beeped. “Endeavor II, you will refrain from disembarking until a spaceport official has confirmed your paperwork and cargo. Someone will be with you shortly.”

  “Understood,” Thorn replied. He reached down to undo his own safety harness and stood.

  Miala began to slowly unbuckle her own seatbelts, but that last request from Callia Spaceport Authority had her more than a little concerned. Sure, it was one thing to beam a bunch of false information down to some bored officer who didn’t know any better, but how on earth was Thorn going to get a hold full of cash and other obviously ill-gotten loot past a customs official?

  “Um, Thorn,” she began, after she had disentangled herself from the last bits of harness and eased herself out of the seat. “I’m assuming that what we’ve got in the cargo hold doesn’t exactly match whatever manifest you sent down to the spaceport authority when you requested permission to land.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “So what are you going to do about it?”

  One eyebrow lifted. “I remember you saying you trusted me.”

  “Well, yes, but—”

  He stepped closer to her, then bent down and gave her a swift, hard kiss, smothering her protests. “So trust me.”

  She wondered exactly what trick it was he had up his sleeve, but she knew better than to question him further. All right, she would trust him. After all, he’d had a great deal more experience racketing around the galaxy than she had, and he didn’t look at all worried. In fact, that eyebrow of his was still quirked, indicating some private amusement. All she could do was sit back and wait to see what happened next.

  11

  The first thing Miala noticed when Thorn opened the hatch was the scent of moisture and of damp vegetation, both overlaid with a wild salty smell that she couldn’t place at all. The air was cool and wet, and a strong breeze blew stray droplets of rain into her face. Even when standing in a shower she’d never quite experienced the sensation of an atmosphere so heavily laden with water, and for a few seconds she felt as if she couldn’t breathe, that the air was too thick and she would drown in it.

  Standing outside in the rain, and looking none too happy for it, was apparently the port official who had come to inspect the Fury. He was a slender Eridani male of indeterminate age, and his face, under the plastic-wrapped cap he wore, was pale lavender. He held a tablet and scowled at Miala as she descended the boarding ramp a few feet behind the mercenary.

  “Who’s that?” he asked. “I didn’t see her name on the manifest.”

  “Just took her on at my last port,” Thorn replied smoothly. “I haven’t had time to update my records.”

  “Name?” the official inquired, after darting a quick glance at Miala’s low-cut neckline.

  “Sheri Napoli,” Miala replied promptly. Sheri was an old classmate of hers, and Miala figured she wouldn’t mind if her name were borrowed in a good cause. Besides, the chances of Sheri ever being on Callia were virtually nil.

  “Occupation?” The official’s derisive look made it quite obvious what he thought her primary function was on board the Fury.

  “First mate.” It was all Miala could do to keep from laughing. She supposed at some other time she would have been offended by the spaceport official’s assumptions regarding her status, but he wasn’t really that far off from the truth in this particular instance.

  The man’s eyes narrowed, al
though he went ahead and made a notation on his tablet anyway. “All right, Captain Marr, let’s take a look at what’s in your hold.”

  Marr? Miala mouthed at Thorn as they moved toward the cargo bay. He gave her a barely perceptible shake of the head, from which she inferred that she should follow his lead and keep her mouth shut. Apparently “Captain Marr” was an alias he used occasionally. She assumed that the false identity matched whatever doctored manifest he had beamed down to the port authority in the first place.

  The cargo hold looked the same as when they had left it: neatly stacked containers of various sizes secured by webbing. Miala couldn’t help giving Thorn an anxious glance. It didn’t appear as if anything had been touched, and so she couldn’t imagine what he might have done to conceal the fact that they were carrying a load of contraband Gaian units.

  Face impassive as always, Thorn paused by one of the containers.

  The spaceport official pointed at the crate. “Open it.”

  Hardly daring to breathe, Miala looked on as Thorn unlatched the container and lifted the lid. Inside were…what? Certainly not Gaian units. The crate appeared to be full of cushioned foam into which had been carefully laid pieces of some sort of machinery—possibly mining equipment, since she thought she recognized the fluted metal bits that were sometimes used to bore through rock. Rusted pieces similar to the ones in the crate were a familiar sight around Aldis Nova, home of more failed mining projects than the officials there cared to admit.

  The official pulled off his dripping cap, revealing thinning dark purple hair. “That one, too.”

  Eryk Thorn unlatched the container the official had indicated and stepped back. This one looked as if it held a medium-sized generator, the sort that would be used on-site to power the types of drill the other crate had contained. He raised an eyebrow at the official. “Any more?” His tone indicated nothing except boredom and, perhaps, the mildest irritation at having to go through the motions of an inspection he’d had to suffer a thousand times before.

  But the spaceport official wasn’t about to let it go that easily. “That one in the back,” he said, pointing to a container in the far corner of the cargo hold.

  The sigh Eryk Thorn gave was scarcely audible, although Miala was fairly certain it was mostly for show. She supposed even someone who didn’t have anything to hide would be irritated by the request—was this annoying little man going to make the mercenary open every container in the cargo hold?

  The final container’s contents were as innocuous as the other two, as this time the items revealed proved to be no more incriminating that spare sand skimmer parts.

  Still, the official held up his tablet one last time, obviously rereading the manifest Thorn had sent to the spaceport authority. “Resupply for the mining colony on Nylos, huh?”

  “Right.”

  The spaceport official made a few final notations, then tucked the data pad under his arm. “Logged and noted, Captain Marr. Callia Spaceport Authority welcomes you to Chistan Major. Information for off-world visitors can be found on the local net, channel 185.”

  Thorn inclined his head. “Thanks.”

  And finally the troublesome official took himself off, replacing the cap on his head before he stepped out into the persistent rain showers.

  Miala turned to Thorn. “What—”

  “Not now. Gather up your things—we’re getting out of here.”

  So even though she was full of questions—the most important being, where the hell are all our units?—she remained silent while she retrieved the shabby duffel that was her only luggage and followed Eryk Thorn out into the rain.

  It was cold, and the raindrops felt like fine needles on her bare arms. She shivered, thinking it would have been nice if Thorn could have warned her about the climate on this world. Still, she supposed he’d had more important things on his mind.

  The spaceport itself was a mess. One-half of the complex seemed to have slid down a hillside and was now closed off by bands of glowing green tape. Everywhere she looked she saw crowds of annoyed tourists, some human, some Eridani, and even several hooded and cloaked Zhore, most of them standing in queues and looking as if they wanted to be anywhere but here.

  Great vacation spot, Thorn, she thought, but decided it was better to save her arguments until they were somewhere private.

  They had no trouble getting a mech-operated taxi. Most people seemed to be leaving Chistan Major, not arriving, and there were fleets of the compact little aircars circling the spaceport.

  “The Eridani Majesty,” Thorn said to the mechanoid cabbie, and Miala raised an eyebrow.

  “Sounds posh,” she commented.

  He gave her a very small smile. “You’ll see.”

  Up in the taxi’s driver’s compartment the mech cabbie began burbling away cheerfully. “Eridani Majesty, sure...you’re lucky, the Majesty survived the waves, high ground, you know. Just ten minutes, and they’ll be glad to see you…tourists running away like boojins off a sinking ship...who’d’ve thought a series of underwater earthquakes could have made so much trouble...”

  “Earthquakes?” Thorn interrupted. Until then he’d been leaning back against the seat, lids half-closed as if to block out some of the mech’s babbling, but he sat up suddenly, black eyes narrowing.

  “That’s what they’re saying,” the mech responded cheerfully. It was a model Miala didn’t recognize, a spindly little thing with four arms and a narrow, flattened head. “Whole series of them…fault line they didn’t even know was there…totally wiped out the Unis Islands. Tidal waves everywhere. Chistan Major’s still here just because it’s mostly on high ground.”

  “Any aftershocks?” Thorn’s eyes were still narrowed; Miala could almost see the tension in his body.

  “Oh, sure. Not that you’ll feel ’em in the Majesty, as long as the floor doesn’t collapse.” The mech’s jolly tones never altered during the relaying of this information—probably it had been programmed to be artificially cheerful at all times.

  “That’s reassuring,” Miala muttered.

  “Are we almost there?” Thorn grated.

  Although he seemed to have relaxed slightly once he began to realize that the worst of the natural disaster was already over, it was clear he would have liked nothing better than to blow the head off the garrulous mech. Maybe Eridanis—who had colonized Callia—liked their mechs talkative, unlike the quiet, unobtrusive models Miala had seen on Iradia.

  “Just ’round this corner.”

  And sure enough, the mech took the bend at a speed Miala wasn’t sure was entirely safe, and the Eridani Majesty stood before them.

  Up until that time, the largest structure she had ever seen was Mast’s compound. The Majesty would have dwarfed the former monastery with just one wing. It was a huge edifice of white stone—or possibly white concrete made to look like stone—that had been built on a bluff overlooking the ocean. Three domes that appeared to be made of multicolored glass topped the mammoth structure, although Miala couldn’t be certain of the materials, since the dimming light and still pouring rain made it difficult to see details clearly.

  The taxi whooshed to a stop under a portico whose underside had been decorated in a complex mosaic depicting some sort of alien marine life. Apparently the Eridani Majesty eschewed mech labor, for it was a young Eridani man who opened the car door for Miala and offered her a gloved hand, helping her out onto an elaborate runner of intricately worked design.

  “Welcome to the Eridani Majesty!” he announced.

  “Uh…thank you,” she replied, allowing him to retrieve her battered duffel from the floor of the back seat, feeling even more acutely aware of the rumpled garments she wore and the sad state of her hair. She brushed at the wrinkles on her tunic, then added in what she hoped were space-weary traveler tones, “Such a dreadful flight! I thought we’d never get here.”

  From the back seat she heard something that sounded suspiciously like a snort. The porter leaned down as if to help Thor
n out of the taxi, then backed up quickly after receiving a freezing stare from the mercenary. Thorn unfolded himself from the back of the cab, still glaring at the nervous young man.

  “Thanks,” Eryk Thorn said finally, and tossed a five-unit chip at the porter, who caught it and looked relieved that Thorn hadn’t thrown anything incendiary at him.

  “Great people skills, Thorn,” Miala said, once they were safely out of earshot.

  “That’s ‘Captain Marr,’” he replied, not bothering to look back at her. “Don’t forget it.”

  Yes, sir! she thought, but remained silent as she trailed after him across the enormous marble-paved lobby of the hotel. In here the walls seemed to be made entirely of glass, encasing tanks of what she assumed were the more colorful examples of local marine life, while overhead huge glass globes cast a warm light across the enormous room.

  It seemed to take forever to get to the main desk. There was a lot of real estate to cover, although the lobby was conspicuously empty, with staff obviously outnumbering guests at least three to one. Again, the clerk who waited for them was Eridani, this time a young woman probably not too many years older than Miala herself, although impossibly more elegant, with her dark purple hair in an intricate knot high on her head and a sparkling white suit that Miala knew would have been stained in about five minutes if she’d been the one wearing it.

  “Reservations?” she asked.

  For a second Miala wasn’t sure what Thorn was doing, exactly, and then she realized he was smiling. It was such a rare expression that she gave him a startled look. Then she realized exactly what he was up to.

  “Well, I don’t exactly have any, but I was hoping you could help me out—” And he slid a credit chip across the counter.

  Apparently Miala wasn’t the only one to be affected by that smile. The clerk looked at Thorn and returned the smile with one of her own. “Well, sir, we do have some rooms available—”

  “Excellent.”

  The clerk swiped the credit chip, and her eyes widened slightly. Then she tapped away at her keyboard. “In fact, given the present situation—that is, the Eridani Majesty values your patronage, sir. We’d like to offer you a free upgrade to one of our governor’s suites by way of thanks.”