Cosmic Cabaret

by SFR Shooting Stars

  The next morning, dressed in civilian clothes for the first time in months, he headed toward the dock, duffle bag in hand. He walked to the ticket window and pressed his thumb onto the pad.

  “Intelligence, eh? Impressive.” The woman at the booth was dressed in the bright chartreuse of the Transportation Authority. The third eye, directly above her nose, marked her as a Borontian. They were known for their ability to read the emotions of other beings without even touching them. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. She was a bitch anyway.”

  No matter how many Borontians he met, it was still unsettling to be read so easily. Especially when he was an intelligence officer, and he was supposed to have the upper hand.

  “Agreed. I need to book passage on LS Quantum.” The last thing he wanted to discuss was Marissa.

  “She’s not docking here for another ten days but Mustang Salley can shuttle you. Only costs fifteen drabbles. That would be out of pocket, but from the look and feel of you, it’s the best money you’ll ever spend.”

  Davell reached into his pocket and pulled out the currency.

  “What time will she be here?”

  “Less than an hour.”

  He was surprised at the wave of relief that washed over his body.

  Two Weeks Later

  Aboard the LS Quantum

  “We don’t need dancers,” Mr. Ramshead, the director of the burlesque show said. “We have plenty of those.”

  “But not headliners from Desprezível. We’re rare birds. I was billed as The Diva of Desprezível Here’s my resume.” She handed him the tattered paper, the one that had survived her narrow escape from the Plasma Sapphire, days and days inside the pocket of greasy IronWorks coveralls, and a trip halfway across the universe aboard a garbage freighter that smelled of spoiled wine and ashes.

  Ramshead, a toad of a man, didn’t even glance at it before he tossed it in the trash.

  She wanted to grab it, smooth out the wrinkles, put it back in her pocket, but she wouldn’t need it. She didn’t have the money to pay for passage to another planet. She was broke, busted. With or without the resume, she was stuck aboard Quantum.

  The small, bald man shook his head. After taking a deep pull on his glass of SweetWine, he rose from his desk and perched on the corner. His knees were only inches from hers. “I’m sure you’re a decent dancer, but here, aboard Quantum, we do things a little differently.” He leaned closer, so close that she smelled the soured sweetness of his breath. “I’ll give you a shot, as a stagehand, a bunny of sorts. We’ll see how you do.”

  He winked lecherously at her. Just to make sure the implication was clear.

  A spot in the show required a tumble with Ramsbottom. Amber’s stomach turned at the thought. Back on Desprezível, before the regime change, he would’ve never even dreamed of approaching her like this. Dancers like Suzy Blanks, of which there were only two or three, had their pick of men. He wouldn’t have made the top thousand on anyone’s list.

  But those days were in the past, and Suzy knew she had to take any job he offered.

  “Thank you, sir.” It took every ounce of self-control she had to utter those words.

  Two

  Davell had been pissed when the colonel had ordered him to take some time off and spend it on Quantum, but now that he was aboard, it wasn’t bad.

  Not bad at all.

  He’d spent the first few days under the expansive red and white striped tent that housed the Circus of the Bright and Colorful. Most of his time was spent along the back wall at the Circo Bar. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips when he remembered how he’d spent the first few night. Acrobats were truly amazing.

  Now, growing bored with the whole circus theme, he’d decided a bawdy Burlesque show might be just what he needed to get the juices flowing again. He hadn’t thought of Marissa in days and he’d mentally filed away most of the intelligence he’d gathered about the Eiferer and their mysterious leader, ZX.

  That didn’t mean the notion of working on the case wasn’t still an itch, but his mind was clearer than it had been in ages. He hoped that would translate into figuring out a way to overthrow those bastards on Desprezível when he went back to work.

  Any army that outlawed SweetWine was no friend of the galaxy, or a friend of his.

  The new zealots who had overtaken Desprezível were different than the parade of regimes that had come before them. They were brutal, harsh and determined to hold the pleasure planet in their grasp for a long time. They were equally determined to crush the production of SweetWine. Thank the Gods the Blue Star Line bought in bulk. According to the captain, Quantum had enough aboard to last at least a full cycle.

  You’re not here to think about Desprezível. You’re here to relax and enjoy the view.

  The view was nothing short of spectacular. Women from all sectors of the galaxy swirled around him, brushed against him, flirted with him. With skin-tones ranging from snow white to ebony, it was like a smorgasbord of beautiful women who were more than open to the idea of an indiscretion or two. Tall, short, curvy, thin. Everywhere his gaze fell, there was something beautiful and strange for his eyes.

  Maybe I’ll stay an extra week. Or two. These lovely creatures are doing a hell of a service to my ego.

  The drinks were flowing and the music was pounding, and Davell was going to sit back and enjoy every second of his forced vacation.

  The lights blinked and the music softened.

  Show time.

  At least I have a job and I’m making enough to send the money for Zara’s medicine home.

  Getting money to her mother, so that she could use it to buy the medicine Zara desperately needed, had been an expensive proposition that had required quite a bit of stealth and ingenuity, but for the next few weeks, her daughter would have her pills. Suzy was left with only enough to buy a few necessities, but enough.

  Suzy Blanks, the Desprezívelian Diva, was a distant memory. She was still close to the show but it killed her to watch the girls, dressed in sequins and feathers, take the stage without her. Some of the girls were good, but none of them were Desprezível-good.

  When the music started, the familiar rhythms slithered into her blood and her heart began to soar, the way it did every time she got to dance.

  Except this time, she wasn’t going on stage.

  Her heart sank as quickly as it had soared.

  She’d known, since she was three years old, that she wanted to be a dancer. She’d put in the time, the effort, suffered the muscle sprains, and the blistered feet. The day she’d gotten the blue diamond tattooed on her head was the proudest moment of her life. Then, the ZX and the Eiferer came and she was outlawed in the prime of her career.

  That’s enough to make a girl good and bitter.

  The red velvet curtains opened, and from her vantage point backstage, she saw that the house was packed. Three times the size of the Plasma Sapphire, there were at least a thousand chairs, all of them filled. It reminded her of the Gilded Peacock, the premier venue for burlesque, the club where she’d headlined for nearly two years until the Eiferer showed up and torched it, and she’d gone underground.

  Anger, always simmering, flashed to the surface, and she clenched her fists.

  Better to concentrate on keeping this job. You’re safe and Zara is getting her medicine. At least for now.

  The show on stage tonight didn’t hold a candle to the ones she’d performed. The fast dancers, known as firecrackers, were too slow, and the slow dancers, called snakes, were too fast. It was just one notch above amateur night.

  Not a single one of them was really selling it.

  Not the way Suzy Blanks could sell it.

  In the weeks she’d been aboard, she’d learned every number and practiced them in her cabin. The space was tight but she wasn’t going to let her body go to fat and her technique get sloppy. It was just one more way to resist the Eiferer.

  Several times, she’d tried to convince the director to give her a chance, ju
st to let him see what she could do with boa and a strand of pearls, but he’d stood firm. He wasn’t auditioning new girls, no matter what kind of resume they had. Bastard. He’d rather have subpar dancers thankful enough for the chance for a spot in the troupe that they’d do anything to keep it.

  And she wasn’t willing to do anything with him. No matter how desperate times might get.

  Just as Suzy turned to go back to the dressing area and grab the props the girls needed for the next number, she heard a terrible thump, followed by a high-pitched shriek. She pivoted on one heel and looked toward the sound.

  The headliner, Rosy Sparkler, had fallen and from the looks of it, she wasn’t going to be getting up without help. She was holding her ankle while large tears rolled down her cheeks, her eyeliner trickling into rivers of sooty black.

  “Close the damn curtain,” Ramshead barked to the stage manager. He stomped toward the stage, smoldering cigar in the corner of his mouth. “Now,” he commanded through gritted teeth.

  The curtains slid closed with a pneumatic whoosh and the stage lights came up. The director waddled over to Rosy, Suzy following closely behind him. The members of the troupe surrounded their headliner, faces etched with worry.

  “What happened? Can you get up?” the director asked.

  “No, I can’t move my foot.” Rosy’s purplish-gray eyes were wide and her ankle was twice the size it should have been. “I don’t know what happened. I’ve done that number a hundred times but this time I must have missed my mark and—”

  “Bring her a glass of water. That will help.”

  “She needs a doctor,” Suzy said. It wasn’t her place, but she also knew that without the right medical attention, Rosy might never dance again.

  Ramshead rose, his red face inches from hers, and spat, “She’ll be fine. We don’t have time to call the doctor.”

  “That’s irresponsible.” Suzy held her ground. “It looks broken, and it needs to be set correctly or she might never headline for you, or anyone else, again.”

  “When I need the opinion of a stagehand, I’ll ask for it.” He turned to the stage manager and choreographer who were huddled over the injured dancer. “Get her off stage and get the show back on the road in ten minutes or less. Make an announcement.”

  On the other side of the curtain, what had begun as a series of punctuated whispers had now grown into a roar of discussion.

  “But, sir,” the stage manager said, “without Rosy, we don’t have a headliner.”

  “Surely one of these chits can pull it off for one show.”

  “I’m afraid none of our other dancers are quite ready to take her place.” The stage manager’s voice was barely above a whisper. “We’ve been working on it but—”

  “Dammit,” Ramshead raged. “We don’t dock for another two weeks. Where can I find a replacement? I’ll lose my job if we go two weeks without a show.”

  “I’m ready, sir,” Suzy said. “I’ve learned her part, and I can nail it.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You haven’t practiced with the troupe.”

  “Only because you won’t let me.”

  He glanced between the choreographer and the stage manager. Both of them nodded. While they’d never seen her dance, they knew her reputation, and all of them had seen promotional posters from the Gilded Peacock that had been distributed galaxy wide.

  “If you screw it up, you’re off the ship. Period.”

  “Yes, sir,” Suzy bit her lip to conceal the smile. “I won’t let you down.”

  He had no idea how much she wanted off this ship. She missed Zara, missed her mother, missed seeing the stars from the ground. But if she was going to leave Quantum, she was going to do it her way. Just like she did everything else in her life.

  “Get dressed and make it quick. We’re already five minutes into a ten-minute forced intermission.”

  “Introduce me as Suzy Blanks, the The Desprezívelian Diva.”

  By the time she’d shimmied into her costume and applied her eyeliner, she still had a full minute to spare.

  After the show stopping fall of the headliner, the curtain had closed. The barmaids had been hard-pressed to fill all the drink orders before the lights dimmed and the curtains opened. A small man, one who looked like he belonged behind a desk at the bank rather than on the stage of the galaxy’s most famous pleasure ship, stepped up to the microphone.

  “We have a special treat for you tonight,” the man said. His voice was high and effeminate. “Fresh from Desprezível, Suzy Blanks, The Desprezívelian Diva.”

  The curtains opened and shouts filled the room.

  I’ll be damned.

  A Desprezívelian burlesque dancer. And not just any Desprezívelian dancer. Suzy Blanks. She was a legend and he’d never been able to afford a ticket to one of her shows when he’d been visiting Desprezível. For a moment he doubted the woman who danced onto the stage was the real article, but one he saw her, he knew she was no fake.

  She’s the real thing.

  If her sensuous moves and her long, shapely legs weren’t didn’t give it away, the way she owned not only the stage but the whole room confirmed it.

  Dancers like her were as rare as petro. He’d seen a couple of them before they’d closed the planetary dock on Desprezível, his favorite vacation planet. These days the only people getting on and off the planet were either workers hired and vetted by the new regime or black market blockade runners who put their lives, and their ships, in danger every time they entered the air space of Desprezível.

  Before the hostile takeover, the best dancers would have never left the planet. They made too much money, had too much fame. They’d had no reason to leave. But now, according to all the reports he’d read, things were very different. With the Eiferer, religious zealots who wore badges, roaming the streets looking for even the smallest infraction of the law, the place was a mere shadow of the place it had been only a few cycles ago.

  And dancers like Suzy Blanks were on the regime’s most wanted list.

  His mind flashed back to the information he’d gathered just before he’d gone on vacation. All of it was on his tablet, safely locked in his pod. Once aboard, he’d promised himself that he wasn’t going to work. He’d spent the last few days trying to keep his mind off things at the office. Although he hadn’t booted the up the device, and he had consumed quite a bit of SweetWine, the details were still there, buried in the back of his mind.

  What in the hell is she doing here? How in the world did she get off of Desprezível in one piece?

  One glorious, sexy piece.

  He was going to follow his own rules and leave the tablet in the room. Until this ship docked and the colonel declared him fit for duty again.

  He might as well feast his eyes on her.

  Damn, what a view.

  She was everything he loved in a woman. Long, lean, olive skin smoother than butter. Not only was her body perfect, every move was a tiny, marvelous act of seduction. She made the other dancers look like rank amateurs. She was a diamond glittering among a million grains of sand. Her jet black hair was cut into an angled bob, and in the stage lights, it shone like glass. It was easy to see that she loved the attention of the crowd. The bawdier the audience got, the more she lost herself in the performance.

  When she hopped off the piano and made her way across the stage with only large feather plumes covering her, Davell wasn’t sure he was going to be able to stay in his seat.

  I’d give up all the acrobats in the world for one night with Suzy Blanks.

  It wasn’t until she was well into the third number, one that had her barely dressed and inside a prop made to look like a large wine glass, that he realized she might be just the girl he’d been looking for all along.

  In more ways than one.

  She’d danced her ass off and gotten a standing ovation. It had been a long time since she’d felt so beautiful, so powerful, so sexy, so totally in control.

  Suzy Blanks was back and it felt
amazing.

  “That’s some shimmy you’ve got.”

  She was headed for the dressing rooms. The voice was low, gravelly and all the hair on her arms stood up. She looked over her shoulder to find that the man’s looks were even sexier than his voice. Taller than her by several inches, he had a dark skin and a five o’clock shadow that made him look deliciously rugged. There was a stiffness about him that most men who spent time aboard Quantum didn’t have. He was wound tight and she found herself wondering what it would take to unravel him.

  She smiled at the prospect. There was nothing more delicious than a man who needed a little help to relax.

  The unwinding is the best part.

  “I’ve got more than shimmy, sweets. I’ve got the best pop in the business.” She kicked her hip up in a staccato motion, making the sequins on her costume catch the light and shimmer like crystals.

  “Agreed,” he said, in a voice that was closer to a growl. “Let me buy you a drink.”

  Suzy turned to face him, dipped low and looked up at him. “I can buy my own, sugar.”

  “Maybe you can, but why would you want to? Especially when a gentleman like me wants to share your company?”

  “Gentleman, huh?” She ran one fingernail along the precisely cut line of hair just above his ear. “This haircut screams Galactic Force, and the shoulders have that cop-uptightness about them.”

  “I can’t be an officer and a gentleman?”

  “It would be a first, but I guess it wouldn’t hurt to see for myself. Wait here.”

  “You’re going to change?”

  “This isn’t the most comfortable outfit in the world.”

  “You won’t be wearing it long very long anyway.”

  “You’re confident. I like that in a man.” She tickled the tip of his nose with one of her feathers. “This might be fun.”

  She backed down the hall, shoulders low, breasts on display, never breaking eye contact. He clenched his jaw and licked his lips, a sign that he was already thinking about what her lips might taste like pressed against his.