by Smith, S. E.
“I’ll do that.” A headache was beginning to pound over her left eye, and Tassia massaged her temples, trying to remain civil when all she craved was privacy.
Finally, the woman left, calling to someone further down in the corridor. Tassia hastened through the portal to her quarters, relieved to hear the door slide shut behind her. The space was much more generous than she’d expected, crisp, clean and gleaming. She stood in a small living area, with the promised cooking space off to the right. The bedroom and bathroom were straight ahead. Hanging onto her last shreds of self-control, Tassia went to the bedroom, dropped her pack on the deck and headed into the bathroom. She took a long leisurely shower, since there was no note about rationing water. As the water streamed over her, she wept from exhaustion. Her nerves and the grief over Madame Xandrina finally broke free after she’d had to hold onto them all night and day.
Wrung out, she eventually turned off the shower, wrapped herself in fluffy towels and threw herself on the bed, so relaxed and exhausted from emotion and exertion she dozed off.
From the clock in the bulkhead, she knew she’d slept several hours by the time she woke up with a start. Dressing in an oversize T shirt and shorts, she wandered into the kitchenette and found the promised welcome basket. These people try very hard to be kind. Munching on a ration bar, holding a cup of synthcaff, she went into the living area and sat on the couch built into the wall, running through meditation exercises in an attempt to regain her inner calm. The danger wasn’t over, but she had a temporary respite.
Finally, she returned to the bedroom and opened the backpack, carefully removing the few items Xandrina had swept into the bag at the last minute. Tassia arranged the small boxes and miniature statues on the top of the empty bureau with care, trying to appreciate what she still had, not to remember the vast collection in her bedroom at home on Ruatsar Ten, or the beloved relatives who’d given her each of the beautiful items. Soon enough she’d probably have to sell the remaining trinkets, if not on this ship, then later.
“I need to save every credit in salary I can.” She spoke out loud just to hear a voice. Trinkets weren’t important for anything other than the memories attached to them, most of which were now too poignant to revisit.
Picking up the final item, the black lacquer box Liam had been so fascinated by, she set it in the exact center of the bureau, put her hands together and made a formal bow, then rubbed one hand over the drawing and opened the lid.
Golden motes drifted upward from the interior of the container, twirling in the air as if happy to be set free. As Tassia watched, the sparks came together in the outline of a catlike being. There was a flash of purple and F’rrh sat regally next to the box. Her third eye was closed but, tail curled over her paws, she watched Tassia intently from the other two.
“It is well?” F’rrh asked in the old tongue of Ruatsar, voice raspy as if she was meowing and speaking simultaneously.
“Yes, Knowing One. Your vision was clear, and I pursued it to fruition. Thank you for the gift.”
“We will miss Madame Xandrina,” the cat said. “Yet it was her time to join the goddess and enjoy peace. Our time to continue onward.”
“Do you have any further guidance for me?” Tassia enjoyed using the language of her birth, the syllables falling from her tongue so lyrically. She held her breath as the cat’s third eyelid opened the slightest bit and then shut.
“Not at this time.” F’rrh stretched and reverted into golden flickers of light which flowed into the box as if sucked into the heart of a black hole. For all she knew the box might contain such a thing. Tassia smiled at the whimsical concept.
Unsure if she was relieved or disappointed, Tassia returned to the living room to interact with the ship’s governing Artificial Intelligence, set her alarm as the dance captain suggested and went to bed, able to sleep soundly and without fear for the first time in months. At this rate, she might actually be able to accomplish the mission she’d sworn to complete when she was eight.
* * *
About a week after the dance auditions, with the Nebula Zephyr well on her way to the next port of call and all her passengers presumably having a great time, Liam reported to the routine morning staff meeting in the Security Office. The briefing by his boss Jake Dilon went pretty much as usual—a few minor problems, one emergency medical case which Dr. Shane had handled with her usual efficiency, nothing to create an adrenaline rush.
Some speculated why the Zephyr’s captain insisted on having all retired Special Forces operators for his security officers when the job was basically a walk in the park probably ninety percent of the time. It was that other ten percent when all hell broke loose Captain Fleming chose to be prepared for.
Today is not one of those times, Liam thought.
“And an advisory alert received from Sectors authorities.” Jake tossed the chit on the table. “Interstellar jewel thief, or so the info sheet says. Might have escaped our last port of call on an unknown ship so the authorities are warning all vessels to be on the lookout.”
“Wouldn’t our first class passengers be prime victims for a jewel thief?” Liam asked, curious since his boss was so off-handed about the warning. “They’re certainly loaded.”
“First of all, check out this lame trideo.” Jake pushed a button and a small figure of a dark-haired woman stood on his desk. “One of those fuzzy ‘created from a childhood holo’ simulations. Could be anyone human basically. I’m not going to be busting paying passengers on the strength of this.”
Liam stared, an uneasy feeling in his gut. The figure’s long hair was a glossy black, reminding him of the down-on-her-luck dancer who’d just joined the Comettes. But the girl he’d seen certainly didn’t fit the usual sophisticated ‘blend in with her victims’ profile like most professional criminals did.
“And secondly,” Jake went on, “The alert emanates from the Ruatsar New Regime, and they claim the person may have stolen crown jewels in their possession and get this: may be masquerading as an inexplicable survivor of the Oleavna royal family massacre.”
“Not that old urban legend?” Red Thomsill, the second in command, frowned and made a derisive noise. “There’ve been what? Two claimants to being the crown prince over the years and a bevy of women claiming to be one of the young princesses? All proven false, by the way. Yeah, drop their alert in the delete file. Those murderous RNR bastards sure don’t deserve help from us. If the person was a fake, then how did they get away with crown jewels? And if the person was the real deal royal, kinda shoots a hole in the RNR’s claim no one in the royal family survived. I’m surprised the Sectors even issued such a screwed up notification.”
Watching his boss terminate the grainy trideo and discard the alert chit, Liam rubbed the back of his neck and forced himself not to fidget in his chair like a guilty kid. He didn’t know Tassia had any connection to the issues highlighted in the report and none of her papers had referenced Ruatsar.
Being assigned to the Level A and B deck patrol today, he swung by the theater where the Comettes performed and lingered at the rear, watching a line of dancers run through the same sequence of steps over and over, with breaks for corrections from the associate director and the dance captain. Tassia was in the second line and, to his untrained eye, doing a great job of nailing the choreography, although he heard her name called several times by the captain.
Leaving the theater itself, he went to the Director’s small office adjacent to the dressing rooms. “Just checking in,” he said after knocking and receiving permission to enter. “How are things going?”
“The new show is progressing.” Riall shrugged. “About half the content is original numbers, plus a few of the old standbys the audience loves. Our new dancers have integrated into the line well so we’ll be ready to debut the program on schedule.” She grinned and sipped her synthcaff, eyeing him playfully over the lip of the mug. “I think you want to ask me how Tassia is doing, yes?”
“Am I that transparent?
” He laughed a bit ruefully. “I feel a bit responsible since I argued for letting her compete in the final round.”
Setting the mug aside, Riall shuffled the files on her desk, plucking one to open. “Is this an official inquiry?”
“What? Oh hells, no. Pardon my language. I thought I might invite her out later, but they’re busy rehearsing right now.” Feeling his face and ears growing hot, Liam resisted the urge to shove his hands into his pockets.
“She keeps very much to herself. The Comettes troupe tries hard to be like a family, but some of the girls don’t wish for so much support and closeness.” The Director reviewed the notes in the file rapidly. “Her dancing is exquisite, and she’s figured out how to turn on a dazzling smile while she performs. I’m satisfied. I’d like to give her a solo, but she’s reluctant.” Tapping her fingers on the desk, she tilted her head to ask, “What performer have you ever met who rejects a chance to be in the spotlight?”
“Does seem odd, but maybe she’s still getting used to the whole situation.” He had the uneasy sensation again, like fingers brushing the back of his neck. Tassia’s attitude was out of character for an entertainer, especially one who’d made so much effort to join the Comettes.
“Perhaps. I didn’t hire her to be a soloist, so I can’t complain. Not everyone can be a star.” Riall put the file firmly onto the pile of other items on the corner of the desk and checked the wall chrono. “They’ll be taking a lunch break in five if you want to try to talk to her.”
“Thanks.”
He went out to find the corridor full of laughing, chattering dancers, apparently released for the lunch break a bit early. Heading toward the main corridor, he saw Tassia and Micki ahead of him. Heart beating faster, he increased his pace to catch up. “Hi, ladies, how’s it going?”
“Everything I wanted the gig to be and more,” Micki said dramatically, spreading her arms wide and nearly smacking another dancer in the face. “Thanks for picking us.”
“I was just along for the ride,” he said modestly. “And to do the paperwork.”
“That’s not what I heard.” Micki winked. “I heard your vote as a judge was quite significant.”
“I watched a bit of the rehearsal today, seemed flawless to me,” he said, trying to change the subject.
“We missed a few steps here and there.” Micki gave Tassia a sideways glance. She stopped in the middle of the corridor, smacked her forehead lightly with the heel of her hand and said, “Oh, seven hells, I forgot my wrap. I’ll catch up to you, Tass.” Spinning on her heel, she retraced her path toward the dressing rooms.
Feeling awkward, Liam swallowed hard. “And are you enjoying being a Comette?”
“Yes, Officer Austin. Everyone is so kind, and the ship is beautiful.” Her voice was as melodious as he remembered, but she wouldn’t look at him.
Her attitude made him more determined to break through the ice. “Call me Liam, no need to be so formal. I’m glad to hear you’re settling in okay. Have you seen much of the Zephyr yet? Been to the Casino or the beach deck?”
“I’ve been concentrating on my dancing, getting the refinements the Comettes want me to have.” Now she did glance at him, her gorgeous eyes wide , and she gave him a small smile. “I have to earn my salary. Thank you for getting me the advance, by the way. It helped smooth my first week. I wouldn’t have dared to ask.”
“No problem. Purely routine.” Even he didn’t believe that. And if he asked her out now, was it going to sound like a quid pro quo? Oh yeah. They’d reached the crew grav tubes, and he remembered technically he was on duty. Annoyed because he really was supposed to be elsewhere right now, deciding discretion was the better part of valor when it came to making friends with Tassia today, he said, “Well, maybe I can show you the beach if you ever have downtime. It’s pretty spectacular, next best thing to being on the actual Tahumaroa Two, or so I’m told.”
“Perhaps, although my schedule is pretty packed.” Her voice was noncommittal, and she took two steps toward the tubes before pausing. “Was there anything else?”
“I’d like to come watch your first performance, if you don’t mind,” he said in a rush. “If it wouldn’t make you nervous or—or anything.”
Eyebrows raised, Tassia gave him a puzzled look. “I only dance in the chorus, you know. Nothing special.”
“I’d like to be there, nevertheless; send you good thoughts. Or is the proper wish in the theater still the old ‘break a leg’ sentiment?” His sense that he’d lost control of the conversation amped up, and he could feel the tips of his ears getting hot. He was blushing and nearly stammering like a raw cadet.
“Hey, invite him to the cast after party,” Micki said, brushing past Liam and giving him a good-natured punch in the arm. “I’ll invite him if you’re too shy.” She grabbed Tassia’s elbow and drew her into the antigrav. “Come on—we’ve only got half an hour, and I need to eat even if you don’t.”
Liam watched the two dancers descend in the silvery anti grav stream and was rewarded as Tassia glanced upward and gave him a tiny wave.
Chest puffed a bit in triumph, he took himself off to finish his patrol and didn’t give another thought to the weird alert from Ruatsar. Tassia Megg didn’t act like a long-lost princess, and she sure as seven hells didn’t have the self-assurance and manner of a master criminal.
* * *
Tassia returned to her quarters late in the afternoon, worn out and footsore. She’d promised to join Micki in her cabin later to watch a new adventure trideo but now she slipped into her own space gratefully. Lovely as it was to have a friend and to be part of the Comettes ensemble, she tried to keep them all at arm’s length without offending. I’m not going to be here very long.
She’d learned early in her travels with Madame Xandrina that any attempt to put roots down or make friends was dangerous and doomed to fail. Always they’d had to move on, often in haste, never leaving a forwarding address or contacting anyone again, moving toward their ultimate goal of sanctuary and safety. Her former dance mistress hadn’t lived long enough to see it, but she believed Tassia would complete the journey for both of their sakes and the honor of her family.
After taking a long hot shower and marveling yet again how the ship had no limitations on crew amenities, she heated a meal in the efficiency kitchenette and brewed herself a cup of tea. Sitting in the small living area, she wondered what Officer Austin—Liam—was doing this evening. Unasked, Micki had told her after their unexpected encounter with him earlier that he was single and considered a good guy by the crew. Tassia marveled at how lucky she was Micki had befriended her at the auditions.
What harm could it do to spend time with Liam?
Immediately, she heard the mental echoes of Xandrina’s voice, lecturing her harshly for being attracted to a local boy on one of their stops when she was much younger. Not only was she not supposed to make friends or form attachments, she wasn’t to associate with men below her station. Which was an ironic command, given how she and her guardian were nearly penniless refugees. Well, she’d managed to evade Xandrina’s eagle eye on a few occasions and come to no harm. Learned a few things. Tassia curled her hand around the mug of tea. So few good memories in all the long years of being on the run.
But Liam was different and not only because he was a security officer. He was a solid citizen, good-hearted, handsome, attentive. She knew she could fall pretty hard for him. It wouldn’t be just a shipboard romance, easily left behind when she quit the Zephyr. Better keep my distance. Regret was like a lump of lead in her stomach, at having to turn away from the possibility for a future of the kind Liam might offer. A future such as an ordinary woman might be able to enjoy, with time to pursue her career as a dancer, and perhaps marriage eventually, where love was the deciding factor, not birth and bloodline. And children someday, who could grow up carefree and pursue whatever life their hearts desired.
Rising, she made her way to the bedroom and performed the necessary ritual to summon F�
��rrh. As soon as the cat solidified on the bureau, she was speaking in her distinctive growly purring voice.
“There is danger drifting through the corridors of this vessel. The enemy of your blood moves closer.”
Shocked because she’d been feeling so safe on the Zephyr, Tassia said, “What can I do? There’s no way to leave the ship until we reach the next port. And I can’t hide in my cabin. I have to keep dancing to earn the right to room and food.” She considered trying to fake an illness, but they were several weeks out yet from their destination, and everything she’d heard about the war hero who was the ship’s doctor implied she’d never be fooled by a phony complaint.
As the cat’s third eye slowly opened and regarded her unwinkingly, Tassia drew in her breath sharply and felt fluttering in her gut.
“A warrior has been placed in your path,” F’rrh said. “Already he defends you.”
“Are you talking about Liam?”
“But beware for he also has the power to pull you from your path. But which road is your true destiny cannot be determined by me or anyone else. Only you will know which fork to take.”
F’rrh sat there looking prim and proper as the lid on the third eye slowly lowered. She dissolved into golden sparkles and disappeared into the box that contained her essence when she chose not to manifest in the visible world.
Going to get herself a glass of water and drinking it rapidly, Tassia reflected on the guardian spirit’s words. Speaking with F’rrh was invariably frustrating because the creature never gave direct answers. “Always riddles,” she said with a rueful glance at the box. She wanted to scream at the idea of an RNR operative being on the ship, stalking her. Maybe F’rrh meant the enemy would be waiting at the next port, not actually on the ship at all. Working hard to calm herself, Tassia took a little comfort in the vagueness of the comments.