“Thank you, but I didn’t headline I—”
“—did the show’s entire main trapeze silk yourself?” Zane interrupted with a smile. “Now tell Sally, here what you like. She picks the pie to the person. And these are the best pies and treats on Quantum.”
“You sweet talker.” Sally shook her head at Zane and turned to Astra, “Now, what type of pie are you hankering for?”
“Fruit pie with a plain cream custard, not too sweet, but not sour,” Astra said shifting her focus to Sally though she saw the peak of a grin turn up at the corner of Zane’s mouth, that kissable mouth.
“I have just the thing: Marroonian berry and rooted bell pie.”
“Rooted what?”
“It’s a plant. The stalks are sour, but when you add sweetener to them they turn into the Creator’s own treat on your plate,” the older woman said.
“I’ve had Maroonians before. They’re kind of black and knobby?” Astra asked.
“That’ll be them. Alright, now what’s your poison, Doc?” Sally flapped her hand in his direction.
“Do I smell pommikan pie?” He asked and when Sally nodded he went on, “How about talispice frozen custard on a slice of pommikan pie?”
“Coming right up,” Sally sang out and turned, wiping her hands on her apron as she made her way to the swinging double doors to the kitchen.
When Sally left them alone, Astra looked around at the restaurant. On the wainscoted walls were hand embroidered samplers in alien styles. They were strangely homey with the way the cross stitch and needlework techniques of her world blended with otherworldly motifs. Astra could only read the common, but she did recognize a few of the other glyphs. Over the kitchen doors was a black cast iron frying pan. She made a mental note to ask Sally about them, if she ever came back to the cafe.
“What made you decide to be a trapeze artist?” he asked.
At the same time, she said, “How’d you find this place?”
Astra giggled, rolled her eyes, and swooped her shoulders up apologetically, “Whoops.”
“Ladies first,” he said.
“Hah, alright then,” she agreed. “I was just a kid that dreamed of being a dancer. I just kept looking for a place where I could learn and found the cabaret. They were willing to take me on and I started by doing work in the kitchen to keep up my end of the deal.” She left out the pirates, the capture by Ebudae, and the Freedom Road. She’d told the story so many times now that it was easy to overlook the whys and hows of getting to Quantum.
“You? How’d you find this place?” She asked.
“I followed my nose,” he smiled.
“Oh, he’s got one heck of a nose,” the older woman said.
Astra’s turned. Her eyes widened when at the sight of Sally carrying the plates. Each plate was more than a hand span across. The slab of pie took up most of the plate’s real estate. It was filled with a thick purpled fruit filling that was at least a thumb length high. The crust looked light and fluffy and buttery crumbly with edges braided in an intricate puffy pattern. Astra stopped herself from poking a finger and cracking the crust. Gentle wisps of steam curled up from the pie, the heat already melting the frozen custard that cozied up to the slice on the plate.
“This looks heavenly,” she whispered in a reverent tone. “We have a pastry chef, but he doesn’t do anything like this.”
“Thank you dear. You’re a sweetheart, you are,” Sally said and laid the other plate in front of Zane. “Eat up before the custard melts too much.” Sally put out two glasses of water at each setting and receded back to wait on an older couple at the other end of the cafe.
Astra dipped a spoon into the custard. The tip of her tongue tested the cool cream on the lip of the concave utensil. Solid, soft, sweet. It reminded her of sunshine and mountainsides.
That one little lick was all he needed to put his libido into overdrive. Slow down, soldier. Don’t scare her.
But he couldn’t help himself. One stray piece of her silky hair fell down across her cheek. He reached out, quite without thinking. With a gentle finger he pushed it back, tracing his fingertip along her cheek. She looked up from the massive piece of pie, her hazel eyes caught him in the act of gazing at the shine the overhead lamp made on her gleaming hair. Tonight, her hair had blue tones in the black and the way that it meshed with her sparkling stage makeup gave him an uncomfortable tightness in his fitted uniform trousers.
She was still wearing the stage makeup lashes, thick, long, and exaggerated with sparkled tips. A tingling of want ripped through him. Her luscious red lips parted in a smile. He caught the glimpse of that tongue again, licking the last bit of cream from the corner of her mouth. Darting out quickly and back again.
Holy Creator.
“This pie is amazing,” she remarked, and her eyes widened to a bo-peep innocence that made him melt like the custard on his plate. If she was any hotter, the entire table might catch fire. He had to remind himself that she was not to be trifled with under penalty of near death from Veronika.
“Yeah,” he managed to croak out. “Sally, can I get a cup of tea here?” He grabbed at the water glass and took a quick sip. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the wisp of a sly smile as Astra dove back into her whipped cream.
Minx.
“Will you be wanting anything else?” Sally walked over and refilled the water glass with her pitcher.
Maybe a cold shower? He thought.
“I’d like some tea, too, Miss Sally, if you don’t mind?”
“What kind? Green? Orange? Black? I think I have some Serapai red. It’s a lovely light tea,”
“Serapai is an herb, yes? It won’t keep me up? I have to hit the hay early tonight, I’m performing at the matinee.”
“Are you now? Bed early?”
“Alone.” Astra added with a slow blink at Zane. She took another bite of her pie and smiled a coy not-so-fast smile.
Zane caught the look from Astra and the smirk on Sally’s face. How many other countless women had he brought here that he hadn’t even bothered to introduce to Sally or anyone else? Not lately, though. The older woman tilted her head and gave him a wry smile that said, ‘you’ve been snagged boy-o’ He flashed an impish grin.
Just then his handheld infotech went off. “What now? It’s been driving me crazy lately,” Zane took it out of his inside suit pocket and stared at the clear device that was now lighting up in blue, red, green and every other color of a rainbow. A holographic caduceus circled above.
“What is it? An emergency?”
“No, it’s been flipping out, I need to take it to Blue Star IT. It’s cycling old messages as if they’re new.”
“Oh, that'll take forever. Hand it here.”
Before he could object, Astra put down her spoon and slipped the device out of his hand. Her hands swiped nimbly through projected screens, plucking through them as though playing a harp. Then she did something he’d never seen before. She pinched her thumb and forefinger together as though there was something tangible there. Astra pulled at it and examined the nothing.
He followed her gaze. In tandem with her fingers, her eyes followed an unseen pattern or a maze. It fascinated him. He’d seen the tech specialists do a similar finger dance back in his military days. She twisted her fingers and tapped her temple.
“There. It was a misplaced protocol. All fixed.”
“What did you do?”
“Oh, just a trick I learned when I was a kid,” she said. A rising flush in her cheeks made him back off pressing her for more information.
She filled the silence with a quick jabber of details. “I used to do salvage. Veronika has me fix the computers every now and then. I have an aptitude for it. That’s just cat’s play,” Astra said and waggled her fingers. “Physical challenge, the silks, that feels real.” Her fingers balled into a fist. “Logic and chromatic circuitry? Meh.” She shrugged and unfurled the fist with a snap. “Not so much.”
He shook his head. “I had no ide
a you were a genius.”
“I’m no such thing.” She leaned in and smiled. “Veronika just likes not having to hire a tech.”
A grin spread across his face, greeted by hers lighting up in return. “She’s thrifty,” he agreed.
Astra laughed and her laughter made him laugh too. Zane knew the ice was finally broken between them. After that, they kept up a steady stream of small talk between bites.
When the food was finished, he looked around. The little cafe was empty. There was barely a noise save for that of Sally’s puttering in the kitchen and the faint whisper of strings filling the void.
After an awkward silence, empty plates in front of them, he saw her look up at the clock behind his head. Zane turned around to look at the time. “Oh, boy, I need to get you back to your quarters.” He tossed his napkin onto the table.
“Yes, thank you,” she said as she stood. “And thank you for this treat. It was much better than a Coco-loco-mama.”
The grin that curved her lips gave him a pang of desire, a magnetic pull, a need to kiss them. But she was across the table. The way she looked down at her plate at his glance told him that she wasn’t ready for that.
“I’ll walk you.” He stood and took the wrap from her chair, holding it out for her.
At that moment, Sally came out of the back kitchen, “Oh, look at the gentleman you are! You’d best take this one home to her family this evening, Doctor Jones, or I suspect they’ll be a war party out for your hide.”
“Yes, Sally,” he replied patiently to the busybody. If she wasn’t such a darn good cook, it wouldn’t be worth dealing with the mother hen act.
A thought drifted in and settled on his consciousness as they walked back towards her quarters through the personnel only access corridor. When did he go from wanting no-strings-attached lifestyle to wanting to take his time with this sweet, strong, caring young woman?
As they got back to the cabaret troupe quarters, the urge to take her into his arms and kiss her bit into his resolve. He would try, this time, to let her lead, learn patience, and to luxuriate in the slowness.
“We have to stay quiet,” she whispered. “Everyone who’s asleep needs to stay asleep.” She said it as though reciting a rule from rote memory.
“I’m just here to escort you,” he whispered back, his voice catching. He didn’t really want to leave her. Wasn’t he that guy? The guy who could worm his way into any bed he wanted? But even if he did find a way to stay, wouldn’t it shatter the respect of others in the troupe? What the troupe thought of him mattered, he realized.
“Your territory, your rules.” The words came out before he could stop them. A glimmer of self-awareness flickered. It wasn’t only about the rules of the troupe’s quarters but her rules. The ones she was laying down with every glance, every subtle movement.
At the door, Astra stopped and pulled her shawl closer around her shoulders. Her gaze lingered at his neck before it finally met with his eyes. The gold corona glittered and made her winsome smile all the more irresistible. Heart thumping in his chest, he felt like a schoolboy. Zane pressed his lips together as he plucked a strand of hair from where it was stuck in her thick false lashes. The tips of his fingers grazed her cheeks. They ignited on contact.
In a perfect “o” her lips parted, her eyes startled at his caress, she looked about to both object and melt. Instead of words, a sharp intake of breath punctuated the silence of the corridor. In reply, his hand slid to her waist.
With only a couple of inches in height separating them, he moved closer, ending up as near to nose-to-nose as he dared and she would allow. How his lips itched to crush those pouty lips beneath his with primal demand.
When she offered him her cheek in a coy gesture, he stifled a laugh. She had him dead to rights.
“Thank you for the lovely chat, Doctor,” she said with a primness that brought to mind Sally’s warning. Her chin firmly pointed towards the door to her right.
He gave her a quick peck and stepped back before his pants tightened even further. “Any time.”
“Good night.” Astra shifted her body, leaning into the door, away from him. He watched as she slipped through, closing it quietly behind her.
Zane stood staring at the closed door and shut his mouth with a snap. What the blazing suns am I doing?
Three
The next morning Astra kept to routine and went to the practice gymnasium to work out. Her fellow cabaret acrobats were gathered together in their practice sweats, holding onto steaming cups of morning caffeination. But instead of their usual bleary-eyed huddle, their murmurings were punctuated with peaks of hysteria.
“What is it? What’s going on?” Astra asked.
“Didn’t you hear about Char?”
“What about her?” Astra stood back, crossing her arms over her chest, readying herself for the usual circus rumor. She was bombarded with a flurry of overlapping explanations.
“In the main tent—”
“—center circle—”
“Blue Star security—”
“Char—”
“They won’t let us in to see what’s going on.”
“—saw the medical examiner.”
“STOP.” Astra said, her stern tone instantly quieted the clamor. “Where’s Veronika?”
Panic hit her head on.
Char? What happened to Char? She had to find out.
The drumbeat of quickening pulse thudded in her ears. Astra’s mouth went dry. She fought a bout of dizziness and slapped her own cheek. Stay clear headed, she told herself.
All the while, questions bounced around her head like a loose electron. The world became a blur.
“Hey! Stop! We’re not allowed to go into the main—”
Zane Jones walked around the center ring circling the sheet-covered body on the wooden floor. His mind raced. Dealing with the death of someone he thought of fondly was not what he wanted to be doing right now. Char Melana was a giving and generous person. Devoted and caring, her presence exuded a motherliness that drew even Zane was drawn. Though she was gentle, she was as tough as Landrian Jerky when she needed to be.
He needed to talk to the right people, ask the right questions. This wasn’t just a drunken passenger auto-darwinating.
Zane bent down to move the sheet aside from her face before replacing it once again. He still couldn’t believe it. Flipping the medtech scanner to the on position, he waved the flat handheld device down the length of the body. The screen showed the injuries, categorizing them in a neat bullet pointed list. Neck fractures. Extensive bruising. Time of death was somewhere during the dawn cycle. She’d been dead for several hours. He continued his interview of the cabaret tech, “Aren’t there safeties?”
“Yes, there’s safeties.
“So?” Zane demanded.
“The anti-gravity in the center is supposed to kick-in in if anyone so much as looks sideways. All you have to do is let go of the silks at any time. It triggers the center ring unit to activate the column of anti-grav. The audience doesn’t know that.”
Veronica Elias stepped forward, interrupting him. She waved off the tech who only stepped back, hovering protectively around his petite boss.
The fiery redhead continued. “It’s a safety precaution that the Blue Star Line has in place, for insurance. Insurance and to prevent traumatization of the passengers. The suits in home office don’t take kindly to lawsuits, and people like to sue for any stupid reason.”
“Yes, I’m aware of the insurance claims,” Zane said. Zane watched Veronika. She had created blinders with her hands and kept her face turned away from the figure on the floor. Her eyes glistened with the threat of tears.
“If there are safeties, what happened?” Zane looked at the tech. “These fractures indicate that she could have fallen.” The only other explanation is if someone bashed the living crap out of her.
“The safeties are on. They were on. They’re always on.” The brawny cabaret safety tech crossed his arms over hi
s chest. “Nobody tampered with them.”
“You’re sure?” Zane asked.
“Absolutely. There’s no indication that they were ever off or malfunctioning. I mean, we’d have to do some further software testing to be sure.”
“Everyone who is not security, leave. Now.” Zane made a snap decision. He turned to one of the security officers. “Where’s the medical forensics team? I’m declaring this a suspicious death. This is officially a crime scene.”
“Good call,” said a deep voice behind him. Chief of Security Clive Sutcliffe stepped closer and nodded to the others. Sutcliffe looked to be a man in his mid-thirties, but Zane knew differently.
The Chief’s file was fascinating and available to only a few high-level staff. Medical Examiner had its privilege. LS Quantum’s Chief of Security had cybernetic surgical implants that aided his super snoop abilities, such as enhanced vision, taste, smell, and memory implants that helped him retain data. He also had a youth cocktail. The chief was actually in his mid-sixties.
Zane sighed in relief. The gruff chief was on the scene. He could take a back seat and let someone else handle this mess.
“Need a forensics team down here,” Zane said after the two had exchanged a perfunctory greeting.
“We don’t have a forensics team,” Sutcliffe said. “We have a half-assed science department in case we go someplace that needs squints, like land in a nebula we didn’t intend to go to.”
“Or a murder investigation,” Zane said, his voice dry with sarcasm.
“You think its murder?” Sutcliffe took out his handheld to Zane. “Synch me, Doctor Jones.”
“Gladly, or maybe not so glad. It’s Char Melana. Age, 40—”
“Wait what? Char? Char-char?” Sutcliffe pointed up. The burly detective took a step around Zane and bent to uncover the sheath over the body. “They said it was some kind of employee accident?”
“Can’t rule that out just yet, but this doesn’t jibe. If she was practicing and fell, the safeties would have kicked it. That makes it a suspicious death.”
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