by Smith, S. E.
The remark made absolutely no sense to Tassia. “Heads?”
Leaning in, Micki lowered her voice. “Notice how those two toss their hair on certain moves? All choreographed. Part of the routine. So try to get a few of those in. You got the steps, right?”
“I think so.” Flipping her hair playfully, Tassia smiled.
Micki plainly wasn’t impressed. “Not good enough. Come over here and practice.”
By the time the director and the other judges re-entered the room, Tassia was confident she could do the routine. She lined up with her assigned group and stood ready.
“We’ll go through this three times,” Riall Cartajj said. “So each line gets the chance to be in the front, but we’ll be watching the entire group closely. A word of warning, don’t mark it just because you’re out of the spotlight when you’re in the line to the rear. Comettes dance full out or they don’t dance for me at all.”
Tassia studied the judges’ table and observed the security officer watching her again. She gave him her best performance smile, which seemed to startle him slightly. He took a sip of synthcaff and leaned back in his chair.
The blond dance captain counted off, “5, 6, 7, 8,” and the final audition commenced.
Tassia let herself flow into the accompaniment and danced as if her life depended on it, which was probably true. She smiled, she flipped her long, shiny black hair on the prescribed counts, and she made sure her hands and feet were nicely placed. She made eye contact with each person at the table at some point in the routine, ensuring they felt she was dancing for them.
It was grueling. Tassia couldn’t relax into the flow of the dance because she was thinking too hard about too many things and was afraid she might be making mistakes.
All the dancers were breathing hard by the time the three rounds were completed. Tassia was a bit dizzy, the months of not eating properly and being on the run catching up with her no doubt. One more hurdle to get through. I can do this.
“Now the kick line,” the red-headed dance captain said. Tassia could have sworn she was hiding a sadistic glee. After doing the routine full out, mustering up the energy to do the strenuous kicks and maintain proper presentation was a challenge.
She lined up with the others, and did her best. Executing high kicks wasn’t a skill she’d ever been tasked to learn but, thanks to Micki’s quick tutorial and Tassia’s own limber frame, she assessed hers as being in the range of acceptable to excellent, although by the end she was gritting her teeth behind the beaming stage face of an engaging, happy effortless performer.
“Thank you,” the director said when the last note of music died away and the group had done a stylized bow in unison as the dance captain had shown them. “If you can please wait outside one more time today, we’ll announce the list of selected candidates shortly then Officer Austin will process the work agreements for the people we’ve chosen. I appreciate the dedication and professionalism shown by everyone today. I know it’s been a long, exhausting process.”
All the dancers clapped so Tassia joined in then followed the crowd outside where a table of ice water and nutrient drinks had been set up for them, courtesy of the Nebula Zephyr’s parent company, CLC Lines.
“Class act,” Micki said, holding up her bottle of water like a trophy.
“I’m not surprised so many people want to dance for them.” Tassia rolled the chilled bottle over her forehead and wished her legs would stop trembling.
Micki laughed again, the sound as bubbly as it had been all day. “You really are a neophyte, aren’t you? Comettes get opportunities, chances to dance in trideos, chances to be discovered for other entertainment venues, opportunities to meet and marry rich Inner Sector guys—”
“So, we should pay them for allowing us to dance?” Tassia couldn’t resist making a joke as Micki went on and on.
“Maybe!” Micki threw her empty bottle in the recycler. “Having this on a dancer’s resume is a golden token all right. I auditioned before, twice. Had to travel outside my Sector to make the last audition, which set me back a lot of credits. Made it to the finals the second time so I’m hopeful today.”
The sound of the door creaking open had them both spinning around, to see the assistant director Syadana standing there, a datapad in her hand. “The Director says thank you again to everyone and to those who may not have been selected this time, she encourages you to consider auditioning again the next time we have openings. We’ve picked five dancers and one alternate.”
Tassia groped for Micki’s hand and stood with bated breath. The other dancer thought being a Comette would change her life in glorious ways, but Tassia knew it would save hers, at least for now.
Syadana read off the names, Micki’s coming third. Tassia wasn’t in the first five but then the official looked straight at her and said, “As an alternate, Tassia Megg.”
In a sudden attack of vertigo, the room spun for Tassia, and she rested one hand on the wall to steady herself as relief at being chosen flooded her mind. Micki gave her a huge hug, and the other four girls gathered in a tight cluster with them, talking excitedly. The dancers who’d not been selected took their bags and quietly left, one or two sobbing.
“Welcome to the troupe and down to business now,” the AD said in a no nonsense voice. “Officer Austin will see you one at a time in the order your name was called, to process the necessary paperwork. The ship leaves orbit at midnight local time so be sure you’ve taken a crew shuttle in plenty of time to report in. Cynna has the schedule for the shuttles. There’ll be an orientation on board ship tomorrow morning at ten AM standard time in the theater. Don’t be late. Comettes are never late.”
As Tassia walked with Micki to retrieve her bag, she kept imagining the RNR operatives intercepting her if she waited in the terminal to take a shuttle. Adrenaline spiking, giving her the shakes, she assumed by now the enemy might have made it to the spaceport in their search for her.
* * *
Liam made quick work of the new employee processing. The girls were tired but excited and several attempted to flirt with him as he checked their travel papers, guild memberships and the like. He stayed politely distant, in professional mode. Most had worked a cruise liner before so they knew what he needed and supplied the information without prompting.
When Tassia came to sit in the chair across the table from him, she sat straight backed, outwardly serene and composed.
“Congratulations,” he said. “Tough process the Comettes management put you through today. I was pulling for you.”
“I’m very grateful for the opportunity.” She brought out the folder with her papers, which she retrieved from a ratty backpack across the room in a pile where all the other girls had stacked their bags.
He raised his eyebrows a bit. “Actual paper? Haven’t seen this in a long time.”
“It’s all in order and has the proper holo seal.” She tapped one finger on the spot. She watched him, her amazing blue-and-copper colored eyes wide. He had the feeling deep inside she was terrified, and he wished he could reassure her.
Liam examined the documents once and then a second time. On the surface they appeared fine. The Sectors allowed for identification to be presented in all forms as long as the required holos were present. Some star systems were less technically advanced than others. Others had religious reasons for presenting ID one way versus another. But all his well-honed instincts from years in the military and working security details told him these were fake papers, this woman was in a lot of trouble, and he probably had no business allowing her onto the Nebula Zephyr.
Now is not the time to react to this woman. But he was, despite his misgivings. He’d admired her pluck all day, dancing in that worn, threadbare garment in the midst of the peacock finery of the other professional dancers, not to mention her obvious gifts as a dancer. To buy himself time to think, he asked, “No guild card?”
“Is one required?”
He heard the slightest hint of a tremor in the
question. “I believe you can acquire a card on the ship.” He raised his voice. “Director Cartajj? Question?”
Walking as gracefully as any of her decades-younger dancers, she came to where he and Tassia sat. “Yes?”
“Does she need a guild card?”
“I can issue you one,” Riall said, glancing at Tassia. “It’s not a problem. Since we have a private moment, I wanted to let you know I expect to upgrade you from alternate shortly, once you’ve learned our routines. We run two full casts, with three swing girls and, while I don’t experience much turnover, there is the occasional vacancy.” Lowering her voice and bending over the table, she said, “I believe there might be at least one girl leaving us at the next planetfall, going to be married, so I’m thinking ahead.”
“Thank you for taking a chance on me at all,” Tassia said.
“Your solo was magnificent, even if not in our style of dancing. Clearly, you’ve been well trained. I’ll have to consider where we might be able to use you as a featured performer eventually, assuming you can pick up enough of what we require for showmanship. Have you ever done antigrav aerial work?”
Tassia shook her head and the beautiful curtain of shining black hair moved like liquid silk over her shoulders, catching Liam’s attention again. “I have not, sorry to say, but I’m willing to learn, of course.”
Driven by an impulse he didn’t stop to question, Liam asked, “Are you allowed to do a salary advance, Madame?”
The director didn’t miss a beat. “Yes, of course. I’ll make sure the ship’s account shows a week advance. Now if there’s nothing else, I should be conferring with my staff about rehearsal plans. Will we be leaving soon, Liam?”
“Almost done.” He grinned and made a few entries in his data pad.
“Thank you again,” Tassia said as the director walked away. She bit her lip. “I—I am rather tapped out for credits, and I’ll probably have to buy new workout clothes on the ship.”
“No problem, just routine.” He was lying, but he didn’t want to embarrass her. She looked flat broke and starved to him. He assumed the director had seen the same picture since she agreed so rapidly to the unusual wage advance. Employees ate as many free meals as they wanted on the Nebula Zephyr, food available at all hours due to the many shifts running in different departments, so this Megg girl certainly wouldn’t go hungry, but he suspected she might need other things long before the first paycheck credit would have been issued.
Tassia lingered, surprising him. “Could I ask one more favor? Could I possibly travel to the ship with all of you now? I don’t have anything else to pack before I go and no one to say goodbye to. It’d be easier for me to take a shuttle now.”
Taken by surprise, he said, “There’s no rule against it. We do have room today. Sure, why not?” He rose, closing his datapad, and addressed the small group waiting for him. “All through. We can leave anytime you’re ready, ladies.”
“I’ll get my things,” Tassia said, “Please don’t leave without me.”
He felt her desperation more clearly. “I promise. You can fly up to the ship at no charge on a later shuttle though, being an employee.”
She shook her head. “I’ll be right back.”
Liam watched her hurry to get her things and say a quick goodbye to the dancer who’d seemed to be her only friend during the day and who was lingering to wait for her. He wondered if Tassia was on the run from her family or an ex-boyfriend or what her deal might be. He had another twinge of concern he might be bringing a problem on board but surely once she was away from this planet and immersed in the Comettes activities, she’d be fine. The Nebula Zephyr was going to travel far from this world on its cruise.
As she came toward him, the strap on the old backpack she was carrying broke and an odd mix of items fell as the bag hit the floor. He moved to help her retrieve her possessions, although she was working feverishly to collect them. Liam picked up a beautifully lacquered black box, a portrait of a three eyed feline on the lid, done in reds and oranges with a hint of turquoise. He admired the fantastical painting. “Gorgeous.”
She all but snatched the box from his hands and thrust it into the bag. “Thank you, but I was fine.”
“Well then, let’s go.” Her reaction was out of proportion, stirring up his misgivings again but the decision had already been made so he’d see it through. Liam headed to where the director and her minions were clustered, hearing Tassia’s footsteps behind him.
The Zephyr contingent walked through the spaceport terminal in a small group. Tassia stayed in a tight formation with him, as if the two of them were on patrol in hostile territory. At another time he might have been flattered, but he had to admit the protection offered by the blaster he wore at his hip was probably the actual lure. Who or what was she scared of? He heightened his situational awareness but detected no active threats in their environment.
“Are the dancers required to spend time with passengers? From the audience, I mean?” Tassia asked out of the blue.
“I’m not the right person to ask,” he said, although the two of them were lagging a bit behind the others. “I’m security, not entertainment. Remember there’s an orientation tomorrow. But, in general, I believe the answer is no, not unless the Comettes have been hired to provide entertainment at a passenger event—because we do get corporate cruises at times. Or if the shipping line itself holds a party or a reception, the dancers may be there. That’s why the Cruise Director is part of the selection committee. But we always maintain tight security at any event.”
“Good to know.” She gave him a small smile.
“We’re using one of the ship’s own shuttles,” he said, deciding she needed more reassurance because she acted so ill at ease. “No other passengers but us this trip.”
As the group left the general area of the spaceport and moved into the CLC Line’s terminal, she seemed to relax and asked no further questions. She was silent during the entire trip to the cruise liner, far above in orbit, and she went off meekly with the dance captain who offered to show her to her quarters.
“An interesting addition to our troupe,” the director said mildly, standing next to him and watching Tassia enter the crew gravlift with the other dancer. “She could be quite a sensation, if she can master the necessary showmanship.” She turned to Liam before he could answer. “Thank you for your assistance today.”
“My pleasure.”
With a little wave, she walked off, her assistant and the other dance captain in her wake. The cruise director waved farewell to Liam and went the opposite direction, toward her own office.
Certainly, some aspects of his day spent as a judge had been surprising, including his personal and professional interest in Tassia. Liam couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so drawn to a woman while simultaneously evaluating what risks might be coming in her wake. Normally, he walked away from any situation where his emotions threatened to engage, especially if he had cause to believe he might have to take action in his capacity as a security officer. There were definitely secrets in Tassia’s background and yet he’d pushed Riall to take her on as a dancer.
I hope I did the right thing, and we have a quiet cruise. Liam bent to pat Moby, the ship’s cat, who’d appeared from nowhere as soon as the shuttle docked in the landing bay and was now making a big fuss over him for some unaccountable reason. “You’d better prowl on down to the cargo decks,” he said, scratching behind her ears. “I’m sure you’re on duty. Which, for that matter, so am I.” He headed for the gravlift, intending to swing by the Security Office, make sure everything was squared away as far as the new employees . Regain control over his thoughts by sinking into the routine.
3
The ships Tassia and Madame Xandrina had traveled in were usually small, tramp freighters, not too picky about who they carried and with a distinct lack of amenities like anti grav. Tassia had a hard time with the Zephyr’s anti grav lift, although her companion and indeed all the other crew membe
rs in the tube were fine, drifting up or down to their desired levels and casually talking the whole time. She concentrated on her breathing and retaining a secure hold on her backpack. They got off on Level Eleven and Cynna escorted her to one of a line of doors in the long corridor.
“This one is yours,” she said, unlatching the portal and stepping aside. “Do you want me to show you how to work the intraship coms or anything?”
Tassia wanted to be alone. “I’m sure I can figure it out. Thanks for bringing me here yourself.”
“You’ll be on my team officially, although you might have to substitute for a girl on the other cast at times, depending who’s sick or injured. There’s no food delivery to crew quarters, but there should be a stock of ration bars and a few other amenities in your cooking space for tonight.” Cynna smiled. “We like to welcome our new cast members properly so we put a basket of first night necessities in a new person’s quarters. We try to be a family in the Comettes. I’ll see you at the orientation meeting tomorrow morning then. Don’t be late.” The admonition was said in a pleasant tone but clearly important.
Tassia took note how concerned everyone seemed to be about timeliness.
“The ship’s Artificial Intelligence is named Maeve, by the way. There’s a ganglion in each room, but she doesn’t access unless invited. Get her to set an alarm for the morning. She can show you the layout and how to get to the theater up on Level B.” Cynna must have seen the confusion Tassia felt reflected on her face. “You’ll get used to the nomenclature soon enough. Levels A and B are where the casino, the restaurants, store, our theater and other amenities are located, plus really high end passenger suites. Most passenger accommodations are levels one through four. Maeve has material you can review about all this – you don’t need to know it tonight. Crew dining hall, stores, anything related to the crew needs basically is on Level Fifteen. You might want to get new workout wear before rehearsal. Maeve can generate anything you need to order and deduct the charges from your salary credits. We do provide two rehearsal outfits in the Line’s colors at our own expense because on occasion we’re being filmed or there might be a tour group. Be sure you key this door to your bioprint now.”