Orphans In the Black: A Space Opera Anthology

by Amy J. Murphy

  The music helped, although she avoided the classical repertoire she’d learned as a well-bred young lady. Instead she played arrangements of current songs, or sometimes, like now, just let her fingers wander as she stared at the illusion of space.

  The restaurant was quiet, breathing out in the lull between the arrival of the daily transport and the end of shift for half the station. In a few minutes she’d take a break, grab a plate of Japche, and stretch her fingers for the next two hours of playing.

  As she finished up a run of chords, Eun stalked to the alcove where the keyboard, and Liza, were tucked away. The proprietor of the restaurant was tiny, with a fierce stare and uncompromising commitment to her clientele.

  Despite Liza’s doubts, it turned out that having live music was, actually, a perfect fit for the Galactic Bulgogi House. She’d fallen into a comfortable rhythm over the last two months. Sure, her tiny cubicle of an apartment was cramped, but no worse than a berth on a ship. Now, though, the back of her neck prickled under Eun’s intense gaze.

  Liza dropped her hands to her lap, and waited for whatever bad news was about to be delivered. It was always bad news, when you were a fugitive from the galactic nobility.

  “There’s a problem,” Eun said as the last ringing synth tones faded from the keyboard. “Somebody looking for you.”

  She jabbed her thumb onto the screen of her handheld, and a Wanted holograph scrolled up. Liza’s throat dried with fear as she saw her own face staring back at her with haunted eyes. Words rotated beneath the image.

  MISSING: Her Royal Highness Elizabeth Calloway von Saxe-Roth, only daughter of the Duke of Albany and Xersis 9. Presumed kidnapped.

  Well, the first was true, though the second was certainly not. Of course, the duke could hardly admit that his daughter had run away from her own betrothal ball.

  REWARD: Six million credits and land grant upon the safe return of Her Royal Highness. No questions asked.

  Damn, and double damn. The land grant was probably just a withered moon somewhere, but the credits…

  Her father wanted her back, and badly. The Duke of Albany’s property didn’t simply run off, especially not when there were dynasties at stake. No matter how little she cared to be a pawn in the machinations of the royal family.

  “This you?” Eun shook the handheld at her, and the holograph wavered.

  The only surprising thing was that it had taken so long—the better part of a year—for Liza’s father to advertise her disappearance. She had no doubt he’d had mercenaries on her trail. At least she’d covered her tracks well enough that they hadn’t been able to find her. Yet.

  Now, though the entire galaxy was on the lookout. Liza swallowed the bitter, coppery taste of fear.

  “It’s not me.” She’d waited too long to answer, though.

  Eun’s sharp gaze grew even sharper. “Genetic ID is easy to make. Why you running? Criminal? Thief?”

  “No.”

  Although Liza had regretted many times leaving the huge diamond betrothal necklace behind, selling stolen diamonds would have put her in exactly the wrong kind of company.

  The kind that would happily sell her out for six million and a hunk of rock.

  In the end, she’d decided it was safer simply to wear the blue dragon tattoo curling about her neck. She let out a shaky breath. She should have marked her face, too, inking swirling designs on her cheeks and forehead to help disguise who she was. Though Eun was right—genetic ID was a simple way around that.

  Liza didn’t have the money for a resculpt. And even a Royal would have a hard time coming up with the credits for a complete cellular makeover, though there were rumors about certain ladies of the ton.

  “Heh.” Eun’s lips thinned as she looked Liza up and down. “You’re a good girl, then. Everybody out here escaping from something. But you can’t stay. Somebody soon will recognize you.”

  Sudden grief clogged Liza’s throat. Every time she started to make something of a life for herself, it ended badly. Even tragically. Oh, Selina, I miss you…

  “I’ll cut your last paycheck,” Eun said. “And make a to-go plate. Japche and Bulgogi Special.”

  “Thank you.” Liza scraped out the words. For whatever reason, Eun wasn’t going to turn her in.

  As the proprietor went back to the kitchen, Liza pulled out her handheld and, with shaking hands, began looking up flight schedules.

  Liza joined the back of the line forming outside the Star Palace II’s berth, and set down her small valise. According to the station’s employment ads, the luxury starliner was hiring maids for the round-trip journey to Turmeric Central. The bustle of space-bound crowds flowed past, the metal walkway humming with the vibration of hundreds of feet.

  She didn’t plan to come back, of course—but she’d jump that ship when she came to it. Meanwhile, she snuck an anxious glance at the light blinking over the servant’s portal. As long as it stayed green, they were still taking applicants. If it went red, then she was stuck.

  As the line shuffled forward, Liza kept her head dipped low, her hat shading her features. Her blue eyes were now a nondescript brown, and her hair, dyed the color of mud, was tucked up into a short-brimmed, shapeless hat. She’d done what she could with cosmetics to thicken her features, shading her brows down and putting too much scarlet on her cheeks.

  Her hard-saved credits had all gone to a fake ID in the name of Aliz Thor. After a bit of pleading on Liza’s part, Eun had sent her to a man reputed to be the best forger in the station. If the ID he’d crafted held up to scrutiny, then all Liza had to do was remember to answer to her false name.

  And, of course, scrub bathrooms. She let out a heavy sigh as the line moved up.

  “Aye,” said a chipper voice behind her. “I’m half-hoping the light goes red, meself. But then I’ll be stuck on this rock, which ain’t all that, either.”

  Liza turned to see a girl younger than herself, with flyaway red hair and a cheery grin. She wore a dress that once might have been blue, but was now more gray than anything, except for the bright patches of red and green plaid sewn neatly over the elbows and down the skirt.

  “Jenny,” the girl said, holding out a slightly grubby hand.

  “Liz… er, Aliz.” Liza shook the proffered hand, finding Jenny’s grasp as forthright as her manners.

  “Pleasure to meet you, Liz.” The girl glanced at Liza’s pale, smooth hand. “Been in service before?”

  “Of course,” Liza lied. “Just been between work lately.”

  One of Jenny’s russet eyebrows went up, but before she could say anything the line moved again. Liza fetched up at the edge of a tall metal desk. The hard-faced woman seated behind it held out her palm.

  “ID,” she said.

  Liza handed over the false holo-card and tried not to hold her breath as the woman slid it into the reader. Two seconds later the machine beeped contentedly. She tried not to sway with relief. First hurdle, passed.

  “References?” the woman asked.

  Luckily, Eun had also provided Liza a somewhat-falsified record of employment as a dishwasher and cleaner. A musician seeking work as a maid was a mite too suspicious.

  “My last job was at the Galactic Bulgogi House,” Liza said, flicking her handheld on. “Here’s a signed statement from the proprietor.”

  “Hm.” The woman behind the desk gave it a long look, then nodded and handed Liza back her ID. “Proceed through the doorway behind me. You’ll be assigned a badge with your room and duty scheduled noted, and given your uniform. Welcome aboard the Star Palace II, Miss Thor.”

  “Thank you.” Liza dipped a curtsey.

  As she grabbed her valise, Jenny flashed her a grin and a victory sign. The light was still green, and Liza suspected her new acquaintance would soon follow her through the door.

  Sure enough, a few moments later Jenny all but bounced into the small, metal-walled foyer as an automaton issued Liza two sets of maid’s clothing.

  “I’m the last one on,”
Jenny said. “Lucky thing, that. Now I’ll have credits to send back to me family on New Scotia.”

  “I thought you might be a Scot.” Liza nodded to the plaid patches on Jenny’s dress.

  “Aye. Oh, look here.” The other girl held out her new badge. “I think we’re bunking together, and on the same schedule. Let’s go settle in, then explore before our shift starts. Hurry!”

  She went to the door ahead of them, which slid open at her approach, revealing a long, gleaming corridor leading into the heart of the cruiser’s steerage section.

  Liza followed, pulled along in the wake of Jenny’s open-hearted enthusiasm. Her only worry was the girl’s obvious curiosity, but Liza hadn’t survived on her own on the edge for this long without learning to deflect undue interest.

  And in truth, she was glad to have an ally, even an inquisitive one. She had a feeling that Jenny was full of stories—ones that would keep her talking, and not asking her new roommate uncomfortable questions.

  There was something strange about the bathroom in Suite Four. Liza frowned to herself and tucked her cleaning cloth into her apron pocket. This was their fourth day out, and every afternoon, while the occupants of the suite were out taking High Tea, Liza and Jenny came in to do the room.

  And every afternoon, there were paw prints smudging the edge of the washbasin and the shiny porcelain commode. The prints were small, easily overlooked, but certainly obvious to someone whose job it was to ensure the suite was pristine.

  Liza glanced around the opulent bathroom, the soft towels woven with hidden nanos to wick moisture away from pampered skin, the gold-plated faucets, the large oval tub. There was no place an animal could hide, and anyhow, pets were strictly forbidden on the luxury starliner.

  “Almost done?” Jenny called from the bedroom, where she was fluffing up the dozen pillows adorning the bed.

  “Yes.” Liza polished the tracks away with one more swipe of her cloth. They looked like cat prints, if she had to guess.

  Jenny gave her a nod as she emerged from the bathroom. “I don’t like to take too long in here, y’see. The other maids say the suite is haunted.”

  “Haunted?” Liza didn’t believe in ghosts. And she was fairly certain ghosts didn’t leave paw prints behind.

  “Aye.” The other maid glanced over her shoulder. “Strange noises and the like. Things moved about that shouldn’t be. Uncanny, ‘tis.”

  Liza raised a brow, but didn’t argue. Jenny’s words only confirmed her suspicions that some well-bred young lady on a prior trip had smuggled her pet aboard and the creature had escaped. Poor thing.

  Taking up the tray holding the discarded remains of the guests’ breakfast, Liza nudged an uneaten piece of bacon off the plate. It fell to the carpet, and she discreetly kicked it beneath the tall armoire. If it were still there on the morrow, she’d fish it out, with no one the wiser.

  The door of the suite whooshed closed behind them. As they wheeled their maids’ trolley up the corridor, Liza heard the faintest thump, as if a small creature had leaped down from its place of concealment.

  Tomorrow, she’d make sure to bring more than just a dried-out piece of bacon.

  The next afternoon, under pretense of polishing the ornately carved armoire, Liza bent and shot a quick look beneath it. No cat glared back at her from the shadows, but the bacon, as she’d suspected, was gone.

  When Jenny’s back was turned, Liza drew a biscuit from her pocket and placed it out of sight under the heavy piece of furniture. What the inhabitants of Suite Four might think should they discover the slightly unappetizing baked good, she couldn’t say. But chances were good that the mysterious feline would get to it first.

  Either that, or Liza was abetting an enormous plague of rats.

  She frowned—but there hadn’t been any evidence of rodents. Nothing pointed to an illicit animal presence aboard the Sky Palace II except the paw prints in the bathroom.

  Earlier, as she cleaned around the sink, she’d paid careful attention. There were prints on the faucet handles, and on the flush knob of the commode. This was no ordinary house cat. Then again, ladies of Quality would never settle for an unmodified pet.

  Though it was strictly forbidden in humans, gene-spliced animals were all the rage among the upper class. Liza herself had never owned a specialty pet, finding the idea distasteful, but many young ladies of her former acquaintance loved to show off their pink, winged mice, or bright blue lapdogs. No one else could afford such things, of course. The lower classes had to content themselves with normal, unmodded cats and dogs.

  Liza gave the armoire one last swipe with her cloth, glancing down to make sure the biscuit wasn’t visible.

  “Come help me with this dratted coverlet,” Jenny said, tugging at the heavily embroidered bed covering.

  Then her eyes went toward something above Liza, and she let out a shriek.

  “What it is it?” Liza whirled and tried to follow the other maid’s gaze.

  “Up there!” Jenny pointed to the top of the tall armoire. “Devil eyes, looking at me.”

  Suppressing a shiver, Liza hurried to Jenny’s side and peered into the shadowy gap between the piece of furniture and the ceiling.

  “Nothing’s there,” she said, though there was, in fact, plenty of room for a small animal to hide in those shadows. Or a devilish ghost…

  Nonsense. She was letting Jenny’s superstition rub off on her, when there was a perfectly reasonable explanation. Yet, for some reason, Liza didn’t want to explain her escaped pet theory to the other maid. It felt like her own secret to keep. She had so little that belonged to her, now.

  “I’ll climb up and take a look, if you want,” Liza said.

  “What if it leaps out at you and steals your soul?” Jenny crossed herself. “I can’t stay in here. Oh, Liz, whatever shall we do?”

  “You go on to the next suite. I’ll finish up here and join you.”

  The other maid shot a longing look at the door, then turned back to Liza.

  “I can’t leave you alone with some evil spirit,” Jenny said, though her voice quavered.

  “I’m not afraid.” It was mostly true.

  “Here.” Jenny fumbled at her neck and drew out a heavy silver cross. “Wear this, for protection.”

  “Thank you.” Liza let the other girl drape it over her head. The metal was warm and, though she didn’t particularly believe in the effectiveness of religious items, she was touched by the gesture. “I won’t take long.”

  Jenny bit her lip. “If you don’t come out soon, I’ll be back for you.”

  “I’ll be perfectly fine. But leave me the feather duster.”

  The other maid nodded and held the cleaning tool out like it was a weapon. Liza took it. Despite her certainty that there wasn’t a demon hiding atop the armoire, she couldn’t help the little shiver of fear that went over her as the door closed behind the other maid with a solid thud.

  Gripping the feather duster a bit more tightly than was necessary, she finished up the dusting. She made the bed and plumped up the pillows, duster close to hand, but nothing stirred in the shadows near the ceiling.

  Well. She supposed she shouldn’t put things off any longer. Leaving the feather duster on the bedside table, Liza walked to the center of the room. She kept her hands relaxed at her sides and squinted at the top of the armoire.

  “You can come out,” she said, keeping her voice soft. Coaxing. “It’s safe. I won’t hurt you.”

  For a moment, nothing happened.

  Then the shadows moved and rustled. Liza swallowed back a jab of fear. What if there was some kind of devilish creature concealed up there?

  “Come now, kitten.” It must be a cat. Surely.

  Two sparks of purple flashed from the darkness, glowing uncannily. Liza took a step back, but didn’t cry out. Cat eyes could look rather demonic, under certain circumstances. It’s just the reflection of the chandelier, Liza told herself.

  “I left you a bit of food, underneath,” sh
e said.

  The eyes blinked closed, then opened again. The shadow shifted.

  And then, with a shocking flurry of wings, the creature emerged and flew down from the top of the armoire. It made a delicate landing in the center of the Turkish carpet, only a few steps from where she stood.

  “Oh, heavens,” Liza breathed.

  It was a cat, the color of smoke from head to toe. Its wings were the same velvety hue, though they were covered with feathers, not fur. No wonder it had been able to hide so well, being nearly the color of the shadows itself. All except those luminous amethyst eyes regarding her cautiously from a pointed feline face.

  Liza knelt and held out one hand, noting with dismay the animal’s thin, bony back and concave sides. The poor thing was nearly starved to death.

  “How long have you been hiding?” she asked quietly.

  There was no response, of course, except for a cool nose briefly touching the back of her knuckles. Then, wings folded tightly against its back, the cat darted under the armoire, once again nearly invisible. The sound of chewing was unmistakable—it had found the biscuit.

  Liza could not linger any more. No doubt Jenny would be nearly beside herself with fear. Careful not to make any sudden movements, Liza rose and retrieved the feather duster. She gave the room a quick once-over, deciding it looked tidy enough to pass muster.

  “I’ll be back tomorrow,” she said to the creature under the armoire.

  Then, carefully, she left Suite Four to its hidden inhabitant and went to reassure Jenny that she had not, in fact, been possessed by demons.

  “Attention, all passengers.” The announcement pinged discreetly through the corridors and staterooms of the Star Palace II. “Approaching Turmeric Central. Deceleration engaged. Prepare to dock precisely at a quarter past ten.”

  As with all ships of the Empire, keeping to a precise timetable was of the utmost importance.

  Returning from breakfast, Liza donned her white mob cap and glanced at the clock display projected on the wall. The staterooms would be empty soon, as the passengers disembarked. She’d fulfill the last of her duties and then jump ship—but what had seemed a fairly straightforward escape was now rather complicated by her discovery of the cat.