by Anthea Sharp
Maybe.
She still had the credits from her unused ticket to Raldoon, the vacation she and Selina never got to take together. But every time Liza thought about going, a part of her shied away.
In a new place, she wouldn’t have any memories of Selina walking down the hallway, just so, or dancing to no music over the sticky floor of the cantina.
“It’s been six months,” Trudi said one night, as they shared a table. “You going to waste the rest of your life here, drinking jimjack and mourning? I don’t think Selina would have wanted that.”
Liza shrugged, and took another sip of the tangy beer.
“I’m leaving next week,” Trudi said.
“What?” Liza set her beer on the dinged-up metal table. “You’re leaving the mines?”
The older woman nodded. The lines on her face were carved deep, but her eyes were serene.
“With the settlement, and what I have saved up, I got a place out on Chugo. Small, but I don’t need much room. Miner’s pension will keep me in tea and crackers. I’m going to write those stories like Rand always told me to, instead of just dreaming about them. His memory deserves better than this.”
She waved her hand at the cantina, but Liza knew she meant all of it—the dusty mining complex, the thankless work, the hard edges everywhere a person turned.
“Good for you.” Liza meant it, and something kindled deep inside her. She wouldn’t call it hope.
What does Selina’s memory deserve?
The keyboard in the corner waited. It was too late for Selina to hear her play, but Liza still heard her words. Would always hear them.
“You’ve got light inside you, novia. Let it shine.”
What better tribute could Liza give, than to play? To let the emotions bottled up inside her fingertips, inside her heart, rush free.
Before she could change her mind, she rose and went to the instrument. The protective bubble was gritty with dust. She folded it back, then wiped her fingers on her coveralls, trying to get some of the grime off.
The bartender came up beside her, towel tucked through his belt.
“You know how to use that thing?” he asked, squinting at her.
“I used to play. You mind?”
“Go ahead.” He glanced at the half-empty cantina, the shadows and weary faces. “Might be all to the good.”
Liza nodded. It might.
She sat on the small, padded bench in front of the keys. They marched off to either side, traditional black and white, orderly and serene. Above them was a row of colorful buttons and a screen display. She could create any sound she wanted, but tonight, just the piano.
Holding her breath, she flicked on the power switch.
A comforting hum came from the speakers mounted on either side of the keys, and the screen and buttons glowed with light.
Liza wasn’t familiar with this model, but it was made by Yamaha, similar to the keyboard she’d learned on. It had taken two years before her strict tutor had allowed her to play the behemoth grand piano kept in the climate-controlled music room of the palace she’d grown up in, and she doubted many of those vintage instruments had been exported off Earth.
The keyboard, though, there were plenty of those scattered across the galaxy. Even out here, on the edge.
Selina.
The name flared across her thoughts, and she realized that along with the pain, there was an echo of joy. Then sorrow blossomed up inside again, a dark, shining flower of loss. Liza caught her breath and set her hands on the keyboard.
It took a moment to adjust to the action of the keys, to press with just enough force. She stopped and tweaked the volume, then adjusted the foot pedal that was still, miraculously, attached.
Then she played, letting the tears fall down her cheeks, letting the grief pour from her body. Moonlight Sonata, then Barber’s Adagio. River Flows in You and The Rose.
Her fingers, stiff from her long shifts in the mines, slowly loosened. Her shoulders ached, but she ignored them. Her heart ached more.
The feel of the cantina changed—softened, warmed.
Liza didn’t know how long she played. As long as she needed to. But when she turned, stretching her sore arms, she found that the room was full again. The quiet light shone on faces that had, for a few moments at least, found some peace.
Selina. The memory was a punch to her gut.
Liza would never forget.
But she couldn’t live with that raw ache right up next to her heart, day after day. And she couldn’t stay there in the belt any longer. There were new planets to explore, even if she didn’t have Selina to explore them with.
She thought of the dark universe stretching out around them, seeded with tiny specks of stars. Each one just a pinprick of light, yet together they held the blackness at bay. She owed it to Selina’s memory to shine, however dimly.
To be one more star against the night.
“Will you play again, tomorrow?” Trudi asked, smiling. A tear track etched through the dust on her cheek.
“Yes,” Liza said. “I will.”
~*~
Stowaway (The Adventures of Liza Roth - 3)
Outside the large, round window of the space station, the universe shone, each star a promise kept. Or broken.
Liza Roth spent a lot of time staring out that window during her evening shifts at Eun-Jeong’s Galactic Bulgogi House. It was simple enough to play the keyboard, her fingers making light, unobtrusive music on the keys while her mind wandered out there in the black.
The view wasn’t real, of course. Eun-Jeong’s was nestled in the trade corridor, deep in the station’s rotating hub and far from any of the reinforced windows. But Eun liked the illusion.
“I run a class joint,” she’d said to Liza when she’d come to interview for the gig. “That’s why I want live music, you know? Everybody else plays canned stuff, but my Bulgogi House is different. We cater to upscale clients, ne?”
Liza had just nodded. Back on Earth, she’d dined at the most highly-rated restaurants in the galaxy, eating real beef off of gold-chased porcelain and drinking champagne from crystal goblets.
A glass of that champagne cost more than what she made in a year, out here on the edge of the spiral arm. It had been a different life, the one she’d fled, and she never wanted to go back. No matter how much her gut sometimes ached with loneliness.
The music helped, although she avoided the classical repertoire she’d learned as a well-bred young lady. Instead she played arrangements of current songs, or sometimes, like now, just let her fingers wander as she stared at the illusion of space.
The restaurant was quiet, breathing out in the lull between the arrival of the daily transport and the end of shift for half the station. In a few minutes she’d take a break, grab a plate of Japche, and stretch her fingers for the next two hours of playing.
As she finished up a run of chords, Eun stalked to the alcove where the keyboard, and Liza, were tucked away. The proprietor of the restaurant was tiny, with a fierce stare and uncompromising commitment to her clientele.
Despite Liza’s doubts, it turned out that having live music was, actually, a perfect fit for the Galactic Bulgogi House. She’d fallen into a comfortable rhythm over the last two months. Sure, her tiny cubicle of an apartment was cramped, but no worse than a berth on a ship. Now, though, the back of her neck prickled under Eun’s intense gaze.
Liza dropped her hands to her lap, and waited for whatever bad news was about to be delivered. It was always bad news, when you were a fugitive from the galactic nobility.
“There’s a problem,” Eun said as the last ringing synth tones faded from the keyboard. “Somebody looking for you.”
She jabbed her thumb onto the screen of her handheld, and a Wanted holograph scrolled up. Liza’s throat dried with fear as she saw her own face staring back at her with haunted eyes. Words rotated beneath the image.
MISSING: Her Royal Highness Elizabeth Calloway von Saxe-Roth, only daughter of the D
uke of Albany and Xersis 9. Presumed kidnapped.
Well, the first was true, though the second was certainly not. Of course, the duke could hardly admit that his daughter had run away from her own betrothal ball.
REWARD: Six million credits and land grant upon the safe return of Her Royal Highness. No questions asked.
Damn, and double damn. The land grant was probably just a withered moon somewhere, but the credits…
Her father wanted her back, and badly. The Duke of Albany’s property didn’t simply run off, especially not when there were dynasties at stake. No matter how little she cared to be a pawn in the machinations of the royal family.
“This you?” Eun shook the handheld at her, and the holograph wavered.
The only surprising thing was that it had taken so long—the better part of a year—for Liza’s father to advertise her disappearance. She had no doubt he’d had mercenaries on her trail. At least she’d covered her tracks well enough that they hadn’t been able to find her. Yet.
Now, though the entire galaxy was on the lookout. Liza swallowed the bitter, coppery taste of fear.
“It’s not me.” She’d waited too long to answer, though.
Eun’s sharp gaze grew even sharper. “Genetic ID is easy to make. Why you running? Criminal? Thief?”
“No.”
Although Liza had regretted many times leaving the huge diamond betrothal necklace behind, selling stolen diamonds would have put her in exactly the wrong kind of company.
The kind that would happily sell her out for six million and a hunk of rock.
In the end, she’d decided it was safer simply to wear the blue dragon tattoo curling about her neck. She let out a shaky breath. She should have marked her face, too, inking swirling designs on her cheeks and forehead to help disguise who she was. Though Eun was right—genetic ID was a simple way around that.
Liza didn’t have the money for a resculpt. And even a Royal would have a hard time coming up with the credits for a complete cellular makeover, though there were rumors about certain ladies of the ton.
“Heh.” Eun’s lips thinned as she looked Liza up and down. “You’re a good girl, then. Everybody out here escaping from something. But you can’t stay. Somebody soon will recognize you.”
Sudden grief clogged Liza’s throat. Every time she started to make something of a life for herself, it ended badly. Even tragically. Oh, Selina, I miss you…
“I’ll cut your last paycheck,” Eun said. “And make a to-go plate. Japche and Bulgogi Special.”
“Thank you.” Liza scraped out the words. For whatever reason, Eun wasn’t going to turn her in.
As the proprietor went back to the kitchen, Liza pulled out her handheld and, with shaking hands, began looking up flight schedules.
* * *
Liza joined the back of the line forming outside the Star Palace II’s berth, and set down her small valise. According to the station’s employment ads, the luxury starliner was hiring maids for the round-trip journey to Turmeric Central. The bustle of space-bound crowds flowed past, the metal walkway humming with the vibration of hundreds of feet.
She didn’t plan to come back, of course—but she’d jump that ship when she came to it. Meanwhile, she snuck an anxious glance at the light blinking over the servant’s portal. As long as it stayed green, they were still taking applicants. If it went red, then she was stuck.
As the line shuffled forward, Liza kept her head dipped low, her hat shading her features. Her blue eyes were now a nondescript brown, and her hair, dyed the color of mud, was tucked up into a short-brimmed, shapeless hat. She’d done what she could with cosmetics to thicken her features, shading her brows down and putting too much scarlet on her cheeks.
Her hard-saved credits had all gone to a fake ID in the name of Aliz Thor. After a bit of pleading on Liza’s part, Eun had sent her to man reputed to be the best forger in the station. If the ID he’d crafted held up to scrutiny, then all Liza had to do was remember to answer to her false name.
And, of course, scrub bathrooms. She let out a heavy sigh as the line moved up.
“Aye,” said a chipper voice behind her. “I’m half-hoping the light goes red, meself. But then I’ll be stuck on this rock, which ain’t all that, either.”
Liza turned to see a girl younger than herself, with flyaway red hair and a cheery grin. She wore a dress that once might have been blue, but was now more gray than anything, except for the bright patches of red and green plaid sewn neatly over the elbows and down the skirt.
“Jenny,” the girl said, holding out a slightly grubby hand.
“Liz… er, Aliz.” Liza shook the proffered hand, finding Jenny’s grasp as forthright as her manners.
“Pleasure to meet you, Liz.” The girl glanced at Liza’s pale, smooth hand. “Been in service before?”
“Of course,” Liza lied. “Just been between work lately.”
One of Jenny’s russet eyebrows went up, but before she could say anything the line moved again. Liza fetched up at the edge of a tall metal desk. The hard-faced woman seated behind it held out her palm.
“ID,” she said.
Liza handed over the false holo-card and tried not to hold her breath as the woman slid it into the reader. Two seconds later the machine beeped contentedly. She tried not to sway with relief. First hurdle, passed.
“References?” the woman asked.
Luckily, Eun had also provided Liza a somewhat-falsified record of employment as a dishwasher and cleaner. A musician seeking work as a maid was a mite too suspicious.
“My last job was at the Galactic Bulgogi House,” Liza said, flicking her handheld on. “Here’s a signed statement from the proprietor.”
“Hm.” The woman behind the desk gave it a long look, then nodded and handed Liza back her ID. “Proceed through the doorway behind me. You’ll be assigned a badge with your room and duty scheduled noted, and given your uniform. Welcome aboard the Star Palace II, Miss Thor.”
“Thank you.” Liza dipped a curtsey.
As she grabbed her valise, Jenny flashed her a grin and a victory sign. The light was still green, and Liza suspected her new acquaintance would soon follow her through the door.
Sure enough, a few moments later Jenny all but bounced into the small, metal-walled foyer as an automaton issued Liza two sets of maid’s clothing.
“I’m the last one on,” Jenny said. “Lucky thing, that. Now I’ll have credits to send back to me family on New Scotia.”
“I thought you might be a Scot.” Liza nodded to the plaid patches on Jenny’s dress.
“Aye. Oh, look here.” The other girl held out her new badge. “I think we’re bunking together, and on the same schedule. Let’s go settle in, then explore before our shift starts. Hurry!”
She went to the door ahead of them, which slid open at her approach, revealing a long, gleaming corridor leading into the heart of the cruiser’s steerage section.
Liza followed, pulled along in the wake of Jenny’s open-hearted enthusiasm. Her only worry was the girl’s obvious curiosity, but Liza hadn’t survived on her own on the edge for this long without learning to deflect undue interest.
And in truth, she was glad to have an ally, even an inquisitive one. She had a feeling that Jenny was full of stories—ones that would keep her talking, and not asking her new roommate uncomfortable questions.
* * *
There was something strange about the bathroom in Suite Four. Liza frowned to herself and tucked her cleaning cloth into her apron pocket. This was their fourth day out, and every afternoon, while the occupants of the suite were out taking High Tea, Liza and Jenny came in to do the room.
And every afternoon, there were paw prints smudging the edge of the washbasin and the shiny porcelain commode. The prints were small, easily overlooked, but certainly obvious to someone whose job it was to ensure the suite was pristine.
Liza glanced around the opulent bathroom, the soft towels woven with hidden nanos to wick moisture away
from pampered skin, the gold-plated faucets, the large oval tub. There was no place an animal could hide, and anyhow, pets were strictly forbidden on the luxury starliner.
“Almost done?” Jenny called from the bedroom, where she was fluffing up the dozen pillows adorning the bed.
“Yes.” Liza polished the tracks away with one more swipe of her cloth. They looked like cat prints, if she had to guess.
Jenny gave her a nod as she emerged from the bathroom. “I don’t like to take too long in here, y’see. The other maids say the suite is haunted.”
“Haunted?” Liza didn’t believe in ghosts. And she was fairly certain ghosts didn’t leave paw prints behind.
“Aye.” The other maid glanced over her shoulder. “Strange noises and the like. Things moved about that shouldn’t be. Uncanny, ‘tis.”
Liza raised a brow, but didn’t argue. Jenny’s words only confirmed her suspicions that some well-bred young lady on a prior trip had smuggled her pet aboard and the creature had escaped. Poor thing.
Taking up the tray holding the discarded remains of the guests’ breakfast, Liza nudged an uneaten piece of bacon off the plate. It fell to the carpet, and she discreetly kicked it beneath the tall armoire. If it were still there on the morrow, she’d fish it out, with no one the wiser.
The door of the suite whooshed closed behind them. As they wheeled their maids’ trolley up the corridor, Liza heard the faintest thump, as if a small creature had leaped down from its place of concealment.
Tomorrow, she’d make sure to bring more than just a dried-out piece of bacon.
* * *
The next afternoon, under pretense of polishing the ornately carved armoire, Liza bent and shot a quick look beneath it. No cat glared back at her from the shadows, but the bacon, as she’d suspected, was gone.
When Jenny’s back was turned, Liza drew a biscuit from her pocket and placed it out of sight under the heavy piece of furniture. What the inhabitants of Suite Four might think should they discover the slightly unappetizing baked good, she couldn’t say. But chances were good that the mysterious feline would get to it first.