Seeking Sirius

by Laure Reminick

  During this time Pearson had been shaking hands with the captain, who turned to Alexa and bent from the waist slightly. “Mrs. Holmes-Fong told me of your assistance. Thank you. It made all the difference.” As the captain left he reached over to pat Pearson’s arm, “See you again, my friend.” Pearson gave a mock salute.

  A moment later, a high-pitched squeal came from across the deck. “Captain Pearson! You’re here!” A lovely lady dressed in coveralls and carrying a wrench stopped and waved with her empty hand. “It’s been too long since you’ve been with us.”

  Pearson smiled. “Hello Twinda. Good to see you.”

  “I will find you.” To Alexa, the words sounded fraught with meaning. Hardly a minute later, a blonde cooed from the door of a nearby ship, “Pearson. My, my, you have been away for far too much time.”

  Pearson smiled and waved. “Good to see you, Camille.”

  The woman grabbed hold of her arms and swooned. “We could meet together, for lunch. I’ll look for you.” A man stuck his head out the portal, saw the group of Rachel, Donny, Alexa and Pearson, among other passengers exiting the wounded cruiser, and pulled back into the ship, taking the woman with him.

  Donny glanced over at Pearson, and said, “Popular.”

  Pearson shrugged and turned his attention to Alexa’s luggage.

  Intent on the impending contest, Rachel asked, “Alexa, didn’t you take some dancing lessons at home?”

  The group made it across the deck to a door leading into what looked to be Customs. “Pearson!” shrieked yet another woman, a redhead of the bottle persuasion. “You left last time before we could meet again. We must get together this trip.”

  “I may not be here long, Sandy, before shuttling to Earth.”

  “Okay. But do let’s try!” And she departed.

  Alexa and Rachel stared at Pearson. Donny watched the backside of the woman longingly. With a look, Alexa questioned Pearson about all the attention.

  “I,” murmured Pearson, “I have a few friends here.”

  “Yeah, obvious,” remarked Rachel. “Pretty ladies.” From across the hangar yet another female voice called his name. “I don’t suppose this has anything to do with, you know.” Rachel left her question hanging.

  Sandy walked nearby again. This time she came up to Pearson and plastered her body against his to the point his arm would fall around her shoulders. Gazing up, she said, “Promise you will save some time for me.”

  Pearson looked down and patted her shoulder. “We will see, Sandy.”

  As the woman sashayed away, with an embarrassed smile Pearson whispered, “I had an opportunity to arrange for a certain physical ability.” He finished with a blank look into the space right in front of him.

  Rachel seemed to get a point that Alexa felt had gone over her head. A knowing smile appeared on Rachel’s face. She flicked her eyes toward Pearson. Donny chuckled too. Then he noticed Rachel looking at Pearson and he stifled in mid laugh.

  Alexa sensed a small, confused look on her face.

  Donny drew Rachel, who’d doubled over laughing, into the next hall. As the door closed, Rachel said, “But, but, think. Such, um, direct attention on exactly the right spot. Yessssss.”

  Alexa whipped her head toward Pearson, and whispered, “oh.”

  He was studying the deck at his feet and pulling on his earlobe in a distracted manner.

  “Ah,” said Alexa, in a deceptively even tone, “there’s a good reason for being so popular with the ladies.”

  Pearson spread his hands in supplication. “I have been around for a long time.”

  “And do they make you sing inside too?” Alexa clipped each word. “Meanwhile, I think we can handle things from here. It’s been swell meeting you.” She picked up her bag, ignoring the wheels so she could put her attention on its weight, instead of her anger. She barked, “Bye,” and did not look back before striding through the door.

  Chapter 31

  On the other side of the portal, Alexa walked smack into the arms of Corky.

  The cad enveloped her in his arms, causing her to let go of her bag, and cooed, “Hello.” Other passengers streamed around them toward lines forming at the end of the room. She struggled and he said loudly, “It has been too long, dearest, since we’ve talked. Let’s move over for these kind people. Mr. Arbuckle, how are you? I agree, it was a wonderful save from those pirates.”

  Some part of her brain registered that this seemed to be the Corky she’d first known.

  Despite being not much taller, Corky managed to pin her to him and keep her face against his jacket, which disallowed calling out to anyone nearby. Soon he backed her into a corner and planted his mouth on hers, all but sucking the breath from her lungs. No passion, merely the business of keeping her quiet. His breath was not very good. One hand held her in place and the other methodically searched. He stopped at a pocket on her cargo pants and crowed, “Yes.”

  As she made an effort to yell, he leaned in enough to free up the other hand for covering her mouth. “Don’t misunderstand, Miss Alden,” he said, one inch away. “This is not personal. I’m glad you do not have to die.” He brought the gold wrapper up. “However, I must have this.”

  Alexa detected a quaver in the background of the last statement and recognized his cologne, a cloyingly sweet-spicy smell. She popped her eyes wide and struggled, staring at the wrapper.

  “Nevertheless, there is someone nearby who would not mind at all doing any necessary work.” Corky cut his eyes over toward a door where a Mafia thug stood. “Stand here for ten minutes and don’t move, and you may live through the day,” he whispered. “Open your mouth, move your hand or take a step, and your top half will say goodbye to your bottom half. Is that clear?”

  Alexa gave a small, terrified nod, and almost fell after Corky released her, but managed to stand against the wall considering his admonition to not move. Corky got away via the dock. Mafia guy remained, appearing to gaze off into space.

  Much of the time was taken up with watching two security men investigate and confiscate the roll-on. Alexa spent these minutes moving her eyes between Mafia guy and the security men and wondering why Corky assumed she would have his prize on her. If not already in the midst of a crisis, she might have freaked out about the concept.

  After security departed with her bag, Alexa tried to see through two windows to the dock outside their ship, whenever doors opened and shut at the right times. A delivery van arrived and departed, still she found no one she might trust to extricate her from this predicament.

  She didn’t notice when Mafia guy left, because Rachel and Donny began striding across the hall and she was frantically trying to figure out how to keep them out of the line of fire. Her time in purgatory must have passed, however, because the goon was gone right before they stopped in front of her.

  “What are you doing here?” demanded Rachel. “We’ve been looking all over for you. Mrs. Holmes-Fong’s husband is here. He cleared us through Customs and she wants to introduce us all.”

  Alexa grabbed her hand and tugged. “Let’s get away from here. Now.”

  “But you have to show them your bag,” said Rachel.

  “Not necessary. The bag will wait. Let’s go.” Her friends thought she was crazy, though they acquiesced. Donny led through the lines and out of the crowded hall.

  Alexa needed a safe place, any place. It simply must preclude a large bozo from splitting her in half with some god-forsaken ray gun. She aimed at the first ladies restroom she noticed, dragging Rachel along. Some little sane part of her mind appreciated the architect who designed individual rooms.

  “What’s going on?” said Rachel, after Alexa slammed the door and locked it. Safely inside the room, Alexa began to shake and tears welled up. Rachel, shocked at first, enveloped her in a hug.

  Alexa wailed, “I’m not cut out for this. I’m not the right person for this job. Someone made a mistake.”

  “What do you mean? Is it Pearson?”

  �
��No, not Pearson.” Alexa blew out a breath. “It’s the crystal. Having the crystal just got really scary.” Rachel narrowed her eyes, in question. “Corky caught me right after I entered the hall. He searched every pocket of mine and would have continued on to other more intimate places if he hadn’t found the package he wanted.”

  Rachel looked concerned. “He took the crystal?”

  “No, one of the decoys. However, that wasn’t the worst of it. He threatened me with this honest-to-god hooligan. Corky said this guy would ‘slice me in half’ if I moved or yelled or anything.” She looked Rachel in the eyes. “He was still watching me when you two began walking across the hall. You could have been hurt.” Alexa began kneading her forehead. “There is more to this crystal than I imagined.”

  “Where is it?”

  “I sent it off the ship. It’s waiting for me somewhere.” The water Alexa splashed on her face was cold.

  “Good. Smart.” Rachel patted her own cheek. “So Corcoran thinks he has what he wants, right? Maybe you’re in the clear.”

  Alexa used the air dryer. “I hope so.” Before leaving the room, she checked both directions.

  By the time they reached the big hallway, Donny was talking to an earnest young salesperson. They both stared at a small container on the otherwise empty table between them. “I wonder what ‘wonder’ the little box is supposed to produce,” murmured Rachel, and motioned for Donny to follow them.

  As they walked, music could be heard. Alexa kept searching for Mafia-guy, though she couldn’t help feeling a little better with all those familiar sounds from her own time. Rachel began nodding her head to the music. When Donny caught up and a familiar driving beat washed over them, it was clear that for him all thoughts of doing anything else vanished.

  A few stores before the big hall, Alexa noticed her bank. “I need some money. Wait for me?” Both of them nodded. Inside, a scarlet-colored robot teller was embedded in the desk. “Hello,” said Alexa. “This is the office for this bank on the station, correct?”

  “Yes, Madam.”

  “Have you received a shipment from the Jasmine, a recently docked cruiser?”

  “Yes Madam, we did. May I help you?”

  “There was a package I kept at the bank on the ship, and asked for it to be transferred to you upon arrival. My name is Alexa Jane Alden.” She gave her thumbprint and looked into another identification device. “Might someone please bring the package here? I want to take it with me.”

  The teller consulted her internal data for a moment, producing a look of stasis. “The package will arrive momentarily.”

  Later, as the trio entered the big hall, happy chaos reigned. On one side, a food court was busy with crowds. Smells of pizza, spicy burritos and something stir-fried with chilies filled the air. Families with children congregated in a nearby area with a few live animals, including rabbits, dogs and cats, and some small tribble-looking creatures that must have originated on one of the new planets. The biggest was a mother goat, being milked. Rachel strode directly to the area, with Alexa tagging along. Donny followed for a bit.

  Opposite the food was the dance contest. Some of the costumes missed the target century, and in some cases didn’t allow for much movement. Still, all couples were smiling, jumping, swirling, laughing, sliding, swinging or grooving with great gusto. Judges watched from a gallery that ringed the area about fifteen feet up. Periodically, a lighted sign would blink a number in red. When couples recognized their number, meaning they were eliminated, they drifted away. Those remaining would pick up on each new tune and keep on dancing.

  Donny returned with identical numbers for him and Rachel and began dragging her toward the dance floor. “You okay?” mouthed Rachel. When Alexa nodded, Rachel held up her bag to ask if Alexa would mind watching it. Alexa took the bag and waved her on toward the dancing. It was an act; she was a little nervous being left alone. She opted to back up against the wall near a group of teenagers while scanning all around.

  The music sounded as good as the original recordings of hits from the last half of the twentieth century and first part of the twenty-first. Possible if they’d been preserved appropriately with each new technology through the years, Alexa surmised. She caught the eye of the girl next to her, who ringed her eyes in black to emulate the Goth style. “Do dance contests happen frequently?”

  “Not ever. That I can remember,” the youngster replied in a cadence that would have pegged her a Valley Girl back home.

  “How do you know the attire and dances?”

  “The contest was announced a couple of days ago, so we had time to research.” The girl briefly mimed a 1960’s dance step. “We practiced last night. I had to radically change some of my clothes. And it’s so worth it.”

  “Are animals usually here on the station?”

  “Never. That I’ve noticed. We recently returned from a vacation on Earth, where I was around animals, or I’d be over there with the little kiddies.” She glanced at the petting zoo. One of the other teens turned toward them and the girl asked her, “All this food, for free, and the dancing and the animals, it’s never happened before. Right?” Her friend nodded in agreement. “But I love it. Couldn’t resist coming.”

  “That would make two of us,” sounded a deep masculine voice from behind Alexa. Judging by the widening eyes of the two girls, Alexa knew the man must be either well known or very attractive.

  Chapter 32

  When she turned, Alexa realized he was both: Turner Bishop, a man hard to not recognize since the gossip magazines featured him on the big screens all the time.

  “I believe that in the century for this music it was acceptable to ask a lady to dance,” said Bishop, before flashing a galaxy-wattage smile and holding out his hand for hers.

  “And she might accept,” sounded another masculine voice, “if she hadn’t already promised the dance to someone else.”

  Alexa about fell over when she recognized the source of that statement. “Iain?” The girls aimed their cameras at the two handsome men.

  “I told you I would make it,” responded Newcastle, as he slid his arm around her. “Sorry, Bishop. This dance is mine.” Newcastle nodded at the fuming man as he turned Alexa away from the group and shot over his shoulder, “See you day after tomorrow at the conference.”

  When Alexa glanced, Bishop was gone. The girls were excitedly talking to their friends and pointing toward the door.

  Newcastle didn’t even hesitate before swinging out onto the dance floor while holding her right hand. He guided her up close into position in front of him and placed his hand in the small of her back. With barely a pause, he picked up on the beat of the current song, a pop version of “In the Mood.”

  “Bishop is a good businessman,” remarked Newcastle, as he stepped left. “And he’s enjoyed a lot of extraordinary breaks.” He swung her out. She dipped with the swing and extended it with her left hand, before flowing into his arms. No doubt, he was an expert. Matching his pace was exhilarating.

  “Nevertheless, the man is quite erratic in his behavior.” With a twirl, Newcastle emphasized his next point, “at unpredictable times.” He spun her twice quickly, brought her back in front of him and slid into a turn, round and round for them both, exactly keeping time to the beat.

  Almost, but not quite, Alexa was dizzy. “What are you doing here?”

  “Not giving up on you,” he replied, marking time before spinning her out, then in under his arm and guiding her around his back to return to position in front of him. He was excellent at leading. She would have had to try to miss steps. “And other things.”

  They danced through that song and began another. Newcastle favored a style that included a good deal of body contact.

  “Is everyone on the station at this event?” She was somewhat breathless after a particularly challenging series of steps.

  “Ready? Keep your legs straight. I’ll get you through this.” Before she even agreed, he brought her hands to her hips, picked her
up vertically, twirled once like a baton, and brought her safely to her feet. By that time, she absolutely felt dizzy. He brought her against his body.

  “No,” he said. “The number of this crowd is perhaps four hundred. At least a thousand people live on the station, while thousands more transit through on any given day.” He took them through a final swing. “I happen to be fascinated with this time period.” The song came to an end. “Have been all my life.”

  They stood in the lull facing each other, him breathing hard too.

  “Something to drink? Or perhaps we should locate Bishop for your next dance.”

  It simply wasn’t possible to resist smiling at his deliciously facetious tone.

  “All right, this way,” he said. After pulling her hand through his arm he headed off the dance floor. People they passed tracked their steps. Taking Newcastle’s photo? Seemed so. Then before they reached the robot bartender, a real human jumped out of the crowd and began bobbing and weaving. Stunned, it was a bit before Alexa realized the man’s black glasses included a camera. Newcastle held up his hand. “Joco, Joco,” he intoned. “Such. An adventure. To see you again, and again. And again.”

  “Hey, Newcastle. Doing my job, you know?” Glancing at Alexa pointedly, he leered, “And trying to keep you honest.” He solemnly nodded. “Such a pretty lady.” Dashing away, he muttered, “Thanks for the ‘toes.”

  Newcastle and Alexa watched the lanky man lope away. She asked, “Paparazzi?”

  “That gentleman began following me when I was twelve years old, and has made a fortune.”

  After a small sip of some soft drink type beverage, Alexa asked, “Joco.” Newcastle nodded. “Did he say he was trying to keep you honest?”

  “Um, yes.” He went quiet for a bit. “I am engaged.” He seemed to be kind of tongue-tied. “To be married.” He glanced at her. “Have been for awhile.” Suave, debonair, galactic Newcastle suddenly appeared entranced by his high-quality brown suede boots.