“Ma’am, Doctor Jones is here,” she said, stepping back from an open doorway. Her arms and hands floated in a dancer’s elegance urging him towards the open entry.
“Let him in, Sooshie.”
Zane smiled a thank-you to the burlesque dancer and wondered if she, too, was another refugee.
“Come in, sit down, take a load off,” Elias pointed to a chair across from her well-appointed desk. It was an old style and looked like it weighed about a ton. Reddish wood carved with deep grooves that resembled ancient pillars stood at the four points of the square, marbled surface. It was a hand span thick. He marveled at the workmanship.
“You don’t remember being in here before, do you?”
“No.”
“That’s just was well, you were dizzy from the trip. Sit. Do you want tea?” she asked, not looking up from the tablet resting at a forty-five degree angle on her desk. “I don’t greet people in here that often, but there’s a lot to discuss. You never answered. Do you want something to drink?”
“No.”
“Well, I do.” She turned her head to another pile of tablets on her desk, neatly stacked, and tapped the top. “Gin and tonic, ice and lime.” An acknowledgement beeped, and she swiped her hand to close the interface. “Go fetch it for me, will you Sooshie?” Veronika said without looking up.
“Yes’m.”
Sooshie bobbed a curtsy. The jangle of her sequined and bangles gave the doctor just a little extra prod to his libido. Zane swiveled his head, following the blue tail. The door shushed closed behind her with a final click.
Veronika cleared her throat, and Zane focused back to the redhead behind the desk.
“You’re here about Char Melana,” she said.
“Yes.”
“And you don’t like what you saw in the center circle?”
“Right” he said.
“I don’t either. That safety has never malfunctioned. Ever.”
“Char didn’t fall,” Zane said.
The door swished open, Sooshie came through, gliding along as she did before. This time Zane noticed the kitten-like paw feet and tiny whip-like tail that trailed up her back ending in a curl at her neckline. A month ago, he’d have hit on her, wanting a hot piece of that aqua-blue delight. Sure, she was attractive in an entirely exotic and super-hot way. But Vulveens, the race that Sooshie belonged to, were also somewhat feral, especially when excited. That made sex with Vulveens all the more exciting—and dangerous.
Another notch in his bedpost? Not now. Maybe not ever again?
Instead of the blue perfection in front of him, all he could see was the coy smile on Astra’s face as she turned it to allow a kiss on her cheek after leaving his couch. It made him want her again, soon. Her coquettish sexuality, now that he’d had some of it, made all thoughts of other conquests not just leave, but never enter his frontal lobe.
Sooshie left the drink on Veronika’s side desk and turned around, looking meaningfully at Zane. Zane sat up a little taller, scratching his temple at the discordance of desire before he relaxed his back. Where was the thrill in the anticipation of chase and capture? What about the little skip in his pulse and the tight snag in his boxers igniting excitement for the hunt?
Where? Gone. Replaced by that after-pleasure smile of Astra’s. That cat that ate the canary smile that made him want to lick up her belly, through the center of her beautiful full breasts, linger there momentarily to nuzzle before moving up to her neck and his final destination: enveloped in the jigsaw puzzle of her limbs.
The thought of Astra made butterfly wings whisper in his chest.
Astra?
Was it as simple as that?
He watched the blue bottom swish as it left. He could almost feel Veronika’s eyes boring a hole into the back of his skull. But he had to know. The dangle of Sooshie’s belt resounded a faint tinkle as her hips swayed sensually. She looked over her shoulder through the curl of her tail and winked at him. He stared back, unable to muster his pussy melting smile.
Astra, not Sooshie, was smiling at him. Those butterflies were racing around his chest now. A pang of guilt stabbed his heart for even thinking about diving into the blue kitty. His mouth went dry. Zane concentrated on why he had come and waited until Sooshie closed the door.
Veronika beat him to it. She cleared her throat and put their conversation back on track, “What do you mean? Char didn’t fall?” Veronika’s voice, normally a stream of warm chocolate was a comet of concern, lancing through the air.
“As near as I can tell from the forensics, she was beaten then strangled with the acrobatic silks. Whoever it was had to have been very strong. We have epithelial cells collected from the fabric that are only hers, so the suspect was gloved. And there was no malfunction in the safeties. They weren’t turned off, either.”
“But, why? Great Creator, why?” Veronika sat back and steepled her fingers, placing the very tip of the arch over her lips. He watched her take the information in, a tiny tear forming in the corner of her eye. Thumb and forefinger dipped into her sleeve and retrieved a handkerchief, which she dabbed on the tears. It looked as though it wasn’t the first time it had been used that day. There was probably a lot of crying going on here at the cabaret. “Oh my dear, dear Char.” Veronika dissolved into quiet tears. Her body shaking with only soft sobs to let him know she was still breathing.
Patiently, Zane waited. All the while he studied her. It seemed genuine, her grief. The likelihood of Veronika killing anyone was a near impossibility, not with the violent force that struck Char. Did she know who killed her? Was it to protect the Road?
When Veronika looked up from her handkerchief, her lips pursed to control the wobbling lower lip, he reached out a hand and took one of hers, cupping it and the handkerchief between his. “There’s something else. Something the medical tests brought up.”
“What is it?” Veronika asked. A faint tinkle of ice accompanied the glide of the gin from glass to lips. She finished her sip and nodded to him, steadied by the strong drink.
“Char isn’t Bo’s biological mother,” he said. He almost missed the subtle pause of the glass’s motion. Veronika didn’t know. “Was she part of it? The—”
Veronika nodded. “Yes.” A stern look came over her face. He watched her body language slide from command to question.
“Where did she come from?” Zane asked.
Her lip twitched.
“I am not afraid to ask these questions, and you have my word that if I don’t have a specific need to put it in a report, I won’t. Even if I do, you know I’ll keep my oath. I will do whatever I can to ensure that the Road is safe. But, I also have I have a duty to uncover the facts so we can catch who killed her, Veronika.”
After a long moment Veronika whispered. “Cordoba.”
“Like me?” Zane withdrew his hands regretting not having the proffered drink in them. The moment she said ‘Cordoba’, his former corporate indenture holders, sweat beaded on his brow. “Slavers, as far as I’m concerned.” His mouth tasted the rancor of bile that the memory dredged.
If he didn’t know better, he’d have sworn the hammering of his heart could be heard in the hallway. “A Cordoba agent could be aboard, then.” Zane said.
“Yes, now that you’ve got a murder,” Veronika gulped more gin. “I think that’s a certainty. I’m going to have to tell the others here to lie low. We can’t afford to expose the entire Freedom Road operation through Quantum.”
“Do you know anything else?” Zane asked.
“Char was running, like you. Like everyone who’s been in that dark place,” Veronika said.
Zane prodded, “You don’t know why?”
“No, and furthermore, I don’t want to know. The more I know, the less safe my charges are,” Veronika said.
“And we can’t probe the possibility of Bo having been adopted because it will send full-on confirmation to Cordoba that Li’l Bo is here, too. We can’t risk that.”
But she didn’t appear
to hear him as she spoke over his words, “That must be why she was so desperate for this new child she was carrying.”
”That’s… another thing.” Zane took a deep breath. “Char wasn’t pregnant.”
Nine
Distractions buzzed around Astra like flies. The more she tried to ignore them, the louder they got. Zane was top of her list. Li’l Bo was next. Then, scurrying in the backstage of her consciousness, came her performance.
It had taken her so long to reach this point in her career, and instead of being able to enjoy it, her emotional life was a roller coaster of ups and downs, dizzying and terrifying.
Things were moving fast, very fast. She had managed to visit with Bo and found that, true to his word, Bo was in a comfortable room with a lot of books. She, and Veronika had taken turns visiting him there. But Astra was still unsure why Bo was still being held in custody. The current answer was that Blue Star had ordered it. He had no parent, no legal guardian, and it fell to the corporate office types to ensure his safety. It infuriated Astra that safety didn’t mean the cabaret family.
“The show must go on” was a phrase as old as humanity. Blue Star wanted their passengers to be happy, and her act was designed to do that. So instead of sitting with Bo, she was at practice.
The security forces concluded their evidence gathering and investigation of the stage and practice areas. Le Mouche would be opening tonight. The safeties on the stage were cleared and double-checked.
Astra took hold of the silks and climbed, heart a fast tattoo. Below her, several of the other aerial performers stood, watching her, spotting her. In the tech booth, a stage tech was triple-checking that her safeties were in place.
There was no reason not to get up on the main silks. The rumor was that they’d never been tampered with at all. But rumors in a theater troupe multiplied like fruit flies. Astra.
From her perch in the silks, Astra watched as the entire arena came to attention the second Veronika stepped in. Though petite in stature, Veronika Elias commanded a room just by entering it. Decked out in her usual stiletto heels and long draping kimono sleeves that extended beyond the hem of her knee-length skirt, she radiated confidence. Veronika crooked her finger at Astra.
The moment Astra began her descent and slid down the silks, Veronika disappeared behind the wavering side stage curtain that she’d come through. The dark crimson velvet rippled as the only sign of her exit. When Astra’s toes hit the floor she didn’t bother to hand off the silks. Instead she picked up a towel, dusted the chalk from her hands and gave a hop over the remaining silk on the floor.
As Astra reached the curtains, Blue Sooshie stopped her and smiled a catlike grin that gave Astra the willies. Was Sooshie flirting? She was definitely not her type. Sooshie leaned close. “I saw your doctor today, he couldn’t take his eyes off my ass.”
“Did you shove it in his face?”
“Oh, don’t be mean, I just thought we could do a three for all. We could both handle you.” Sooshie purred and gave a pink-gummed bright white-toothed smile at her.
“I don’t share well. Stay away from my crayons and my doctor,” Astra said.
“Sad kitty.” Sooshie cast her eyes down, thick lashes covering the golden eyes. Astra returned the look with a suspicious squint. She pushed her way through the curtain and left Sooshie behind.
Once inside Veronika’s office, Astra closed the door behind her. It latched with a click, and a lock secured it with a louder clack. Astra stepped back from the door, unsettled. She turned to see her boss behind the large, old-fashioned wood desk.
A line of text wavered, floating in space inches in front of Le Mouche’s manager. “Ebudae pick-up rerouted. No cargo.” Was all it said. The look on Veronica’s face made Astra’s belly turn somersaults. The white floating words reflected in Veronika’s sparkly green eyes now shadowed by concern. Worry creased her unnaturally youthful face.
“What does it mean?” Astra pointed as she asked Veronika.
“Sit down, this concerns you.”
“I remember Ebudae.” Astra sat, putting her hands in her lap, interlacing the digits in a tight, twisting knot.
“You should.” Veronika nodded. “In the network of bolt-holes across the universe, this Freedom Road way station is unique because it is never in one place for too long. Blue Star likes Quantum to be that way. For them it’s a unique marketing tool for the ship. But for the Freedom Road it means that the agents going after the runaways had a harder target to hit. This was one of the safest places to bolt to if you were lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time.”
“And I was,” Astra nodded.
“Yes. Let me take you back a bit.” Veronika made the words disappear. She sat up, leaning into the desk towards Astra. “There’s a lot to explain and very little time to do it in if what I think is going on, is.”
Astra pressed her lips together. She unhinged her interlaced fingers and wrapped her arms around her middle, gripping her elbows. Hunching before she realized it and elongated her spine, inclining it towards the heavy desk that Veronika sat behind.
“Fifteen years ago, I greeted Char Melana and her toddler son, Beauregard.”
That didn’t surprise Astra. Everyone at the Le Mouche Cabaret knew and treated each other with kindness and open hearts.
“Char claimed to be an artist from the Kuwaaiti, a small collective of planets. At that time they were subsumed by Cordoba. There was no reason to doubt her and no way to check facts.”
“I always suspected Char was an escapee, like me,” Astra said sitting back a little in her chair, easing up the grip on her elbows.
“Except now I am unsure of that, Astra. I don’t know what to believe,” Veronika said. Doubt flitted across her countenance like a moth. It hovered then it was gone.
“Why?”
The redhead tapped her stylus on the faux wooden desk. It was the only outward sign of indecision save for her eyes which darted to the stylus before they met Astra’s again. “Because I’ve just found out that Bo’s not her biological son.”
Astra opened her mouth but snapped it shut at the sight of Veronika’s stylus. It wavered like a conductor’s baton and silenced her.
“There’s more,” Veronika leaned in and whispered, “Char wasn’t pregnant.”
“What?” Astra shut her mouth again at the guiding stylus. What was the truth? Char was lying about pregnancy? What else? Why?
“The next liaison group isn’t coming, and the encoded message you just saw tells me more than that. It indicates that someone could be here already, sniffing out LS Quantum.”
“Should we be worried?” Astra’s inflection rose and so did the corners of Veronika’s lips.
“Yes. I think we should all be worried. We can’t let our guard down, not even for a second.” She pursed her lips, hiding most of the coral pink lipstick until it became a thin line.
Astra knew that the Freedom Road contacts came to Quantum in small ships bringing supplies. The cargo holds of those freighters were filled with rich foods and a few refugees from the universal corporate wars.
The overarching war was swinging towards the Cordoba Conglomerate — the big multi-galactic uber-corporation with an equally monstrous military arm. Small planetary co-operatives were being swallowed up as the reach continued out into places long thought untouchable. Stable. Fruitful.
But it was more than war that brought them in.
“Cordoba is desiccating the central trade hubs,” Elias added. “I fear for the Freedom Road. That’s our main supply line to get people out.”
“How many of us are hiding on Quantum?”
“More than you want to know. Road agents abound in the Blue Star line, too, from logistics to scullery,” said Veronika.
“If they killed her, do you think they’ll be sniffing around for more?”
“I don’t think this is over yet. I think there’s something we’re missing. Something about Bo. Why anyone would run off with a one-year-old? B
ut Zane is in the crossfire, too.”
“Zane is?”
“Yes. That’s why I’m telling you. I see you two finally connecting. That’s good for you both. But I want you to be careful, keep an eye out. Use your training from before.”
“Before?” Astra’s mouth went dry.
“Yes, before,” Elias nodded.
“I haven’t done any deep hacking since I left. And even then,” her voice trailed off.
“Child, remember what I told you about the Tiva Oa experiments? About the DNA changes in your body? Why you’re so strong, heal so quickly, and are so uncannily brilliant with software and logic?”
“I can’t. I won’t.” Her tongue cleaved to the roof of her mouth. Astra’s pulse thrummed through her veins as though she would explode.
“Zane may need you. If you want to keep him safe, you may have to.”
Zane? Astra clenched and unclenched her fists. “Why Zane? What do you need for me to do?”
“I want you to use your talents. Now you get to put what you learned from those stealthy piratical rats to good use.”
“I can’t,” Astra said. She looked down at her hands, remembering the first time, when as a young kid, staring at a series of logic strings, they began ‘singing’ to her, telling her how to disarm a security system. “I left that far behind,” Astra said. The finality in her voice wavered.
Veronika’s face was a picture of command. Jaw set. Eyes clear and bright. Astra got a mental image of the flashy redhead with an eye patch and a tiny top hat, “You know, you could run your own ‘salvage’ operation.”
“In a sense, I do. I salvage lives. That operation is at risk. I know who you are, where you came from. Many of those aboard here who came from the Road aren’t that forthcoming. I don’t have as much information. You have a talent with information gathering. You and I both know it.
“Let me see if I have this correct.” Astra sat back, incredulous that it was down to her, an orphan acrobat with hacker skills. “I have to find out who Char was, who was after Char, and who killed Char. Oh, and we should probably find out who Bo belongs to if she stole him for some reason.”
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