Star Cruise

by Veronica Scott

“I scan all cargo as it comes aboard,” Maeve said from thin air. “Nothing about this item raised any suspicion.”

  “Lucky for the woman that the crew who offloaded the pallets was so incompetent and damaged the mechanism with rough handling,” Embersson said. “More good fortune when the animals drew my attention to the leak. She’d have died.”

  “You said the collar’s explosive?” Fleming looked to Jake.

  He nodded. “We saw something very similar used by insurgents in Sector Forty-Three when we were deployed there. As soon as Emily tells me the woman is stabilized, I’ll do an assessment, with Red—he used to deactivate booby traps in our Special Forces days.”

  Fleming frowned. “So this sentient female could be a kidnap victim, or someone who tried to rip off the wrong people or worse. I want this kept as quiet as possible. I’ll break out of hyperspace long enough to transmit to the authorities, see if the Sectors Criminal Investigation Agency wants to board us to take her and the mystery off our hands, or meet us at the next port.”

  “Care to share what you’re thinking, sir?” Jake asked.

  “Probably the same as you—this has the hallmarks of a Combine operation. I don’t want the Zephyr mixed up in an organized crime problem, not if we can help it.” Fleming glared at the container as if the box offended him. “All right. Unless there’s anything to add, I’ll stop engines and transmit a report to the authorities. Plays hell with the schedule, but I’m going to wait for instructions. If the Combine is involved, we can’t go it alone. I’m not taking on the Amarotu gang with a ship full of passengers to protect. ” He turned to Jake. “Come sit in on the conversation. I want the girl under constant guard, assuming she survives. And Owen, the same goes for the crate. I don’t want it touched till the SCIA arrives. Can you shut down all activity on this deck until we know more?”

  Surprised at the request, he nodded. “Of course. I’ll have to shift cargo in a day or two, though, to offload what’s due at our next stop. You want my guys standing guard duty?”

  Fleming gave him a level stare. “Jake’s force is stretched pretty thin, so yes, but only the men and women you’d trust with your life. No one else gets access to this deck.”

  Owen considered. “Got a few of those, folks I served with. Went through the siege of Driscoll Nine together. I’ll put together a schedule. We’ll also check all the containers on the two pallets, just in case.”

  Raising an eyebrow, Fleming looked in the direction of the nearest ganglion. “Maeve?”

  “All arrangements duly noted,” the AI said.

  “I want to be there if you mess with the explosive collar,” Owen said, snagging Jake by the elbow as he followed the captain toward the gravlift.

  “Why?”

  Doggedly he insisted, despite his friend’s astonishment. “I found her in my cargo hold, I saved her life. She’s got no one on her side right now.”

  “If you think Emily would let anyone harm a patient in her care—”

  “I didn’t mean to insult the doc, expressed myself badly. The girl needs a friend, ok? She’s obviously in the middle of big trouble, one way or the other.”

  Jake studied him for a moment before nodding. “All right. I’ll give the order you can see her.” He held up one hand. “Unless the captain or the SCIA issues a countermanding order.”

  “Thanks.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Frustration ate at Owen over not being able to go topside and check on his stowaway sooner, but he had guard duty to organize and a work roster to rearrange. Once those tasks were done, he went into his office and called Dr. Shane. “How is she? Can I come see her?”

  “She’s resting right now, and I don’t want her disturbed. Her heart fibrillates too easily—the cryo setup wasn’t properly adjusted for her physiology versus a human’s.” Emily studied his face in the vid and relented a bit. “You can visit her first thing in the morning, when she’s awake and stabilized.”

  “Do we know her name?”

  “Not yet. She really hasn’t been talking to any of us, understandably. Poor thing, I feel sorry for her. Did you need anything else?”

  “No, see you in the morning.” Owen signed off and sat at his desk for a moment, drumming his fingers. He walked out onto the cargo floor and pulled his deputy chief aside. “I’m gonna be late tomorrow.”

  Sonya did a double take. “You? You’re never late.”

  “Well, first time for everything.” Breaking his perfect attendance record was the least of his concerns today. “Have you seen Moby? I never fed her, with all the excitement.”

  “She hasn’t been underfoot, which is unusual for her. No Midorri either.” Sonya patted his arm. “You go ahead, boss, you need your beauty sleep. I’ll keep an eye out for the furry brats. And yes, we’ll call you if we find anything else in those other crates.”

  Owen nodded and headed for the gravlift. Beauty sleep, yeah right. What had the mystery lady thought when she saw his face as he pulled her free? Probably nothing, being close to dying on the cold deck. He was a pretty ordinary guy, nothing special. Nose broken once in a barroom fight, a scar or two from close calls in combat. Drifting upward in the silvery stream of antigrav, he let himself indulge in a mental picture of her face—heart-shaped, sweet, pale green skin like finest jade—and panic stricken. And those eyes—huge pools of mesmerizing green and gold. How did a beauty like her become a prisoner of the Combine? Was it a kidnap and ransom job?

  As he exited on the crew deck where his quarters were located, he made a silent vow to help her return to wherever she belonged, safe with her own people.

  Voices nearby penetrated the fog in her head, and she tried to concentrate. It was dangerous not to have all her wits about her, but this wasn’t like any experience she’d had before when emerging from cryosleep. By the time she could open her eyes, the owners of the voices had left the room, and Tyrelle examined her surroundings anxiously. She was in some kind of medical facility, that much was obvious from the equipment and beeping monitors. If she moved too much, dizziness made her nauseous, and her chest ached. Tyrelle tried to raise one hand to her forehead to soothe the raging headache, panicking when she was prevented from doing so. Squirming to look at her arm, she realized with relief the heavy chains at her ankles were gone, but she was restrained at the wrists by soft but unbreakable ties holding her. Still a prisoner, nothing’s really changed. Closing her eyes, she allowed her head to fall against the pillow.

  And the collar still circled her neck, the threat ever present.

  But where was she? Breathing in and holding the breath for the count of five then breathing out and repeating, she got control over her panic. The ringmaster didn’t want her dead or injured – Tyrelle knew she hadn’t done anything against orders on the last assignment. Well, maybe allowing the second victim to escape wasn’t smart, but her handler had no way to know Tyrelle cut off her attack early. Any life she could save from the predators who forced her to do their bidding was a tiny balancing of the scales.

  She sensed a small, curious but friendly mind nearby, and a moment later, there was an impact on the bed as the creature jumped from below. A cat, curious as all of her kind. Tyrelle took comfort from the way the visitor purred and curled against her legs.

  “I see you’ve made a friend.” The woman standing in the doorway had an inviting smile. “I’m Dr. Shane. You probably don’t remember, but I’ve been treating you since we found you earlier in the evening.”

  “Where am I?” Tyrelle pulled against the restraints in an instinctive reaction, trying to sit up.

  Brow furrowed, the doctor checked her medical sensors. “Don’t struggle too much, your heart is still skipping beats a little too often. I’m sorry about the restraints, but our security officer insisted, considering the way we found you. You’re on board the cruise ship Nebula Zephyr.”

  “Found me?”

  “Chained up in a cryo sleep chamber hidden in a cargo container. You don’t remember?” The doctor adjus
ted the medication infuser.

  Tyrelle closed her eyes. She remembered being put into the chamber, terrified as always by the small space, which her handler found amusing. She had fragmented memories of being lifted out by someone else, a strong man with the kindest eyes she’d ever seen, a person she’d instinctively wanted to cling to and beg for help. In her confused state, she’d thought he was a legendary Champion of Thuun, sent by the god to save her, but of course now she saw how ridiculous the idea was. If her harsh life in the Sectors had taught her anything, it was that Thuun had no sway here, no ability to answer prayers, not even the most desperate.

  The cat butted her head against Tyrelle’s pinioned hand, and she scratched behind the ears awkwardly. She got an impression the cat approved of the man she saw in her own jumbled memories, but Tyrelle was too exhausted to attempt mind-to-mind communication with the creature to learn more.

  “Try to sleep now,” the doctor advised. “Nothing bad will happen to you in my sickbay or on our ship, I give you my word.

  “Be careful of the collar,” she said, “It’s a bomb.”

  Dr. Shane patted her hand. “Thank you for telling me, but we were already aware. Tomorrow we’ll see what can be done about removing it.”

  Tyrelle was having increasing trouble staying awake. Guessing the doctor had given her a sedative, she stopped fighting the drowsiness and lethargy and closed her eyes. Being free of the Combine was a blessing by itself. And maybe these people would be willing to help her.

  In the morning, as the Zephyr observed Sectors standard time, Owen realized they were underway again. Captain Fleming had dropped out of lightspeed for a surprisingly extended period of time the night before. Speculating what instructions he’d received from the authorities, and what the next steps were, Owen dressed. After breakfast he slammed the portal to his cabin and took the gravlift to A Deck, where sickbay was located.

  As he walked through the public corridor, not enjoying the close encounter with the throng of passengers he usually avoided, he passed the florist shop and hesitated. You take flowers when someone’s sick, right? Squaring his shoulders, he stepped inside the small shop and picked the most colorful bouquet the clerk had to offer, dismayed at the limited selection available. He vaguely remembered a discussion at senior staff not too long ago, and the Purser saying the ornamental hydroponics trade should be bringing in a lot more credits but was languishing. No wonder. Critically, he surveyed the flowers he’d bought, some of which were missing a few petals and already browning at the edges. He’d have an opinion if the topic came up again.

  Holding the flowers clutched like a wrench at his side, he entered the sickbay, ignoring nurse Relba’s widening eyes as she focused on what he carried. “I’m here to see the lady, the one brought in last night,” he said, feeling like an idiot, not knowing her name.

  “Sorry, sir, the patient’s not allowed to have visitors—”

  “I’m the exception,” he said, interrupting ruthlessly. “Dr. Shane agreed. What room is she in?”

  Relba pointed to the corridor on the right. “Room 2. If you can get past the guard.”

  He proceeded in the direction she indicated and had no trouble persuading Clint Miltan to admit him to the stowaway’s room, confirming Jake and Emily had kept their word and left orders he was allowed to see the patient.

  He knocked and entered as the portal slid aside.

  Dressed in a plain blue sickbay gown, she reclined against a stack of pillows, with Midorri curled in her lap, making the humming sound he regarded as an alien version of purring.

  Suddenly overcome by the awkwardness of the moment, Owen stopped as the door shut behind him. He extended the flowers. “I’m Owen Embersson, the ship’s cargo master. I’m the one who found you last night. I just—I came to see how you’re doing.” With a flash of anger at whoever had imprisoned her originally, he noticed the explosive collar was still around her neck.

  She held out her hand, inviting him closer. “The animals said you were one to be trusted. Thank you for saving my life.”

  He took her hand, gripping the bouquet in the other.

  “I’m Tyrelle,” she said. “Are those for me?”

  He handed over the flowers and went to grab the visitor’s chair. As he carried it to the bedside, he watched her hold the flowers to her face, inhaling the fragrance. The flowers were glowing, richly colored spots of light and as he watched, each bloom expanded, the tired petals plumping, taking on a satin sheen, all the brown spots disappearing. The perfume wafted to his nose, intoxicating him. “Wow, how did you do that?”

  “The ability is one of my gifts. It’s been so long since I beheld flowers, or anything green,” she said. “You brought me a rare luxury.”

  “And you improved upon my pitiful posies a thousand percent.” He grabbed the water pitcher, and she placed the bouquet carefully into the vessel. “I’ll set this here, where you can see it,” he said, placing the arrangement, glowing and gorgeous, on the narrow bedside tray.

  “Please, sit, be comfortable,” Tyrelle said, indicating the chair. “I’m grateful for the company, although the animals have been good companions, taking turns amusing me today, telling me about the ship and the people.”

  Psychic then, able to talk mind-to-mind with the animals? “I’m probably not allowed to ask you any questions about what’s going on, but I want you to know you can count on me. As a friend, anything you need while you’re with us.” Unable to stop himself, he added, “I’d like to kill whoever mistreated you.” He bit his lip.

  “You’re an honorable warrior.” She petted Midorri, smoothing the green fur with her graceful hand.

  “Your Basic is very good.”

  “I had to learn.” She shot him a glance. “For the past few years, none of my choices have been my own to make.”

  “Are you feeling better? I had to do CPR, because your heart stopped and you weren’t breathing. I was afraid I’d break your ribs.” He held up his big hands.

  She laughed, a musical trill which enchanted him and made him crave hearing her laugh again. “I wondered why my chest ached today, but I’m grateful. I was prepared to blame the doctor. She did say my heart had settled into the proper rhythm again, so I assume all is well.”

  Silence fell between them.

  Midorri chirruped and slithered to the floor, going to the portal, where she scratched at the door with two of her six feet.

  Owen rose to let her out.

  Moby promptly entered, jumping to the bed and rubbing Tyrelle’s face, arching her spine and purring loudly.

  “When one leaves, the other arrives. You’re the keeper of the animals?” she asked.

  “Moby’s mine. I rescued her from kids in a rough port town as a kitten a few years ago and brought her with me to the Zephyr. Midorri belongs to the entire ship, but she spends a lot of time in the cargo bay, with Moby, hunting vermin.” He sat, trapped in the small chair. “The Zephyr’s not infested or anything, we run a tight ship, but there’s always a few space rats.” I can’t believe I’m talking to this beautiful woman about rats.

  She laughed, scratching under Moby’s chin for a moment and staring into the cat’s green eyes. “Yes, this one likes you very much and the name you gifted her. Midorri is not the other one’s name, you know, but she told me she doesn’t mind answering to it.”

  “I vaguely remember my grandmother telling me a story or a poem from old Earth, something about cats having three names,” he said, the memory surfacing full blown. Thoughts of his grandmother hadn’t crossed his mind in decades, but now he could picture her, smell the cookies she baked, hear her voice. “The one people called them, the one the cats called themselves and a secret name no one ever uses.”

  “I like the idea.” Her cheeks displayed charming dimples as she smiled. “Even I don’t know Midorri’s secret name.”

  “You speak to animals, and you revive flowers—” He felt as if he’d fallen into a fairy tale, except for the ugly collar aroun
d her neck, all too high tech and ready to kill her. Anger pulsed in his head again.

  “On my own world, I’m one who nurtures,” she said. “One who works with nature for the good of all.” Tyrelle closed her eyes for a moment.

  He realized she was trying not to cry. He remembered how confidently Maeve had said her race was unknown. How will we ever get her home if we don’t even know where the planet is?

  Wiping her eyes, she said, “What I’ve been doing…to—to survive is as far as one can get from my calling as a priestess of Thuun.”

  “Hey.”Again he took her hand, a wave of sorrow at her distress washing through him. What is it with me today—all these emotions? “I’m sure you did what you had to do to survive, just like anyone would.”

  “You’re kind. Some died rather than submit.” Her voice was bleak, lost for a moment in unhappy memories perhaps. “But I—I wanted to live, to hope. Maybe I made a foolish choice.”

  “I was a soldier and saw a lot of combat,” he said. “I understand about hard choices, about not giving up or giving in. You’re safe now, with us.”

  “Am I?” She rubbed her neck as if trying to soothe an ache.

  “Has anyone taken a look at that collar yet?”

  “Yes, a Mr. Thomsill?”

  “And?”

  “He said to me he could get it off quickly, no problem. He went to get his equipment and then didn’t return.”

  “If Red said he could get it off, then no worries.”

  “Yes, he seemed competent, another warrior like you.” She gazed around the small sickbay room. “Is this a war vessel? From what the doctor said, and Moby and Midorri shared, I didn’t think so, but all this talk of soldiers—”

  Owen laughed. “No, we’re a luxury cruise ship. Just so happens a lot of the crew are veterans.”

  “I was grateful to have the shackles cut off.” She extended one shapely leg out from under the blue blanket.

  He winced at the red lacerations on her ankle.