She stared blankly at the black rectangle.
“May I?” Owen took the device and activated it for her.
“Tyrelle Zephyr, Sectors citizen, Mellurean affiliation noted,” said the AI’s voice. It recited her citizen ID number, followed by banking details, with Tyrelle apparently being the recipient of a substantial reward for her part in bringing down the Devir Six Combine operation. “Footnote,” said the AI’s voice efficiently, “Cleared to travel to the moons of Mellure at any time, passage guaranteed, one companion allowed.”
“Access to Mellure is a rare visa,” he said, raising his eyebrows and looking at the captain.
“They’d like to talk to her. The Council promised to try to determine where your home world may be, but I’m afraid we all think that’s a remote possibility during the ongoing combat with the Mawreg. They also promised to forward me any intel recovered as to the whereabouts of your sister or any other prisoners from your planet.”
“I’m grateful, and I understand we’ll probably never hear anything but just to know someone is watching for her, for them, is a comfort. Tyrelle Zephyr?” she asked, staring at her ID.
“Bureaucracy requires a last name,” Fleming said, with a shrug. “Seemed appropriate. You can change it if you want a different surname.”
“Oh, I like the name,” she said. “I’m honored. But where will I go now? What happens to me?”
“Which brings me to the final reason I’m here this evening,” the captain said. “Owen, you’re the finest Cargo Master I’ve ever met, and I’m intent on keeping you on the ship’s roster, working for me. I’m not a fool, I know wherever Miss Zephyr goes, you’ll go.”
“Damn straight.”
“CLC isn’t running this ship as a charity. I can’t take on nonpaying, noncontributing sentients on a long-term basis. Fortunately, I happen to have several openings in the hydroponics section, and I’d like to offer you a job, Miss Zephyr, as a senior specialist on my direct staff. I’d like you to concentrate on the ornamentals, seeing if you can improve our profit margin there by upgrading the product. The new chief of Hydroponics will report to you and to me, once we hire someone.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Chief Takkei and I would also take it as a personal favor if you’d be willing to assist with the meditation garden.”
Eyes glowing, she said, “Yes! I accept with pleasure. The solution is wonderful!”
“Welcome to the crew.” Fleming extended his hand across the table, and Tyrelle awkwardly shook on the deal. “The Purser will get in touch with you about salary and benefits. The position comes with a private cabin—”
Owen cleared his throat.
“But since the Cargo Master here has one of the largest officer’s cabins on board, other than mine, I’m assuming you won’t need separate quarters. Tell the Purser if you do.” He drained the last of the coffee, set the mug aside and rose. “And by the way, the Mellureans assure me the Combine won’t ever bother you again, nor will the SCIA attempt to contact you. I have a personal guarantee from the highest levels of Mellure.” He smiled. “You’re safe, Tyrelle. Maybe we can’t get you home again—yet—”
“This is my home now, with Owen. How can we ever thank you, Captain?”
He shook his head. “No thanks required. My job is to take care of my ship, my crew and my passengers, even the inadvertent ones. Thanks for the coffee, can’t remember when I’ve had a better brew. Good night.” He was out the portal and gone.
Tyrelle threw herself at Owen, sitting on his lap with arms around his neck. “Free and clear is what your people say, yes? Both of us. Your captain accomplished much on our behalf.”
He kissed her. “Fleming’s one of a kind all right. I’m proud to serve with him. I’m proud to serve with you – welcome to the crew. I didn’t see that coming, but I like it.”
“Truly Thuun must have heard my prayers and diverted my cargo container to this ship, so you and I might meet. He showed me the way to regain my honor, to be able to stand next to you, my warrior, and take down the evil ones together.” She gave the table a cursory glance. “Are you hungry? Or would you like to skip dinner and let me sing the blessing for your leg? I’m too excited to eat now.”
He kissed her neck, scattering little caresses on her soft skin until he reached her lips. “I could go for dessert first, finishing dinner later,” he whispered in her ear, one hand rising to cup her breast.
Blushing, she rose and took his hand. “Energy treatment first, and then we’ll see.”
As they walked to the bedroom together, Owen heard the dishes clatter as Moby and Midorri jumped onto the table to investigate the remnants of the abandoned meal. They were welcome to it – after all, the pets were the ones who found Tyrelle for him, that day in the cargo bay.
Enjoy the treat, you earned it!
Moby and Midorri by Artist Nyssa Juneau
Veronica’s Note: When I was invited to join the ‘Romancing the Stars’ anthology, I knew I wanted to tell more stories about my interstellar cruise liner, the Nebula Zephyr, but the word limit requirement was tight for this effort. So it had to be a story I could tell in full in under 10K words! Then I happened to read an article about special curated events for the wealthy here on Earth—less dangerous than the one my crew members are about to get involved with—and there was the key plot element I needed.
STAR CRUISE: RESCUE
What was taking him so long to bring those drinks? Mira twisted in her chair, looking across the crowded club, hoping to see Clint on his way back to their group’s table.
“Care to dance?”
She waved the unknown guy off with a quick smile. She was saving this dance for Clint. It was her favorite song, a fact of which he was well aware, and he’d promised her that he wouldn’t dance to it with anyone else. Granted it had been a casual, flirtatious comment but after their two dates on board the Nebula Zephyr, she’d believed things were promising between them. She definitely had high hopes for this twenty four hour shore leave—she liked him a lot, thought he was pretty special. Mira stood on tiptoe beside her chair and looked again. With a shock of adrenaline, she saw Clint standing at the edge of the dance floor with a curvaceous redhead. As she watched, the girl looped one arm around his neck, hips swaying close to his, and snagged what had to be Mira’s drink with the other hand. Tossing her head, she chugged the feelgood and then moved in to kiss Clint, who didn’t appear to Mira’s shocked gaze to be putting up any resistance.
“Who is that?” Mira asked Sella, as the other stewardess came to grab her tiny purse from the pile of belongings on the table.
“Oh, with Clint just now? Becca. They used to be a couple when she was on the Zephyr. I guess her new ship must be in port tonight too. Maybe he invited her to join us.” Head tilted, Sella studied Mira for a moment from slightly bloodshot eyes. “What’s it to you?”
“Nothing. I was curious, that’s all.” Dropping into her chair, Mira fiddled with her AI, wishing someone else would ask her to dance now.
Lighting a narcotic stick, Sella drifted away to join a man waiting nearby, and Mira was alone again. Her previously happy mood fled and the pounding music gave her a headache. She wondered if Shane, the shuttle pilot, would let her nap on board till it was time for all of them to return to the Zephyr after shore leave. The outing held no appeal for her any more. She wished she hadn’t joined the excursion now, but the idea of spending time with Clint had been enticing. The ex-Special Forces soldier- turned-ship’s-security-officer, was as good-looking as he was congenial, and his interest in her had been flattering. And fleeting. A wave of disappointment further dampened her once-festive mood.
“Here’s an empty table!” The triumphant shout startled her and she protested weakly as five Socialite passengers she recognized from the cruise liner descended, shoving her friends’ possessions aside as they claimed the chairs.
“I’m sorry, we were here first.” How polite am I required to be when off duty? These ‘Lites were rich, L
evel One passengers who could make trouble for her. “This table is taken.”
“Looked available to me,” said one of the men with a harsh laugh. “It’s taken now for sure.”
The girl sitting much too close to Mira leaned over. “Don’t worry,” she said, her breath redolent of prime feelgoods. “We won’t be here long. We’re waiting for our conductor.” She took a drink sitting unattended on the table and downed it, frowning and licking her lips after swallowing. “Cheap stuff. Ugh.” She squinted, examining Mira as if she was a scientific specimen. “Hey, aren’t you crew? Didn’t I see you in our suite the other day? Cleaning or something?”
“Yes, I was helping the senior stew out on Level One.”
“Even you mice must get to play occasionally, I guess.” She stuck out her hand, wobbling a bit in the chair. “I’m Lindy.”
Steadying the woman so she wouldn’t fall, Mira introduced herself in turn, then asked, “What did you mean about waiting for a conductor?”
“Oh, honey, if you think this lowbrow club is fun, you don’t know what a good time is.” Lindy giggled. “I wouldn’t set foot in here if the conductor hadn’t said this was our meeting place. We’re going to a designed experience, private, you know? Maybe we’ll party in an abandoned warehouse nobody’s using tonight or hear a special set from a top band. Once we snuck into a museum closed for the weekend and played with the artifacts.” She nodded. “Fact. I wore the crown of an alien queen who’d been dead for centuries and my boyfriend and his pals had a sword fight in my honor. Well, until the old things broke.”
“Wouldn’t any or all of that be illegal?”
The ‘Lite snorted. “Of course. The risk is part of the fun. On the last planet we went to a bash in an empty mansion on the beach, almost got caught when the neighbors complained to the planetary cops. Got out in the nick of time. Took a few souvenirs too.” She closed her eyes and sighed with pleasure. “Creating new experiences for my kind is big business in the Sectors. We pay when we’re satisfied. Titillated. Amused.” Fixing Mira with a frowning glare, Lindy waggled one finger as she said, “Not bored. Never bore a ‘Lite.”
“Lindy, shut up. She’s not one of us.” The man who sat across the table seemed to be in charge of the rowdy group. He looked Mira up and down and shook his head. “Find another table and get lost, cruise ship girl.”
“This was my crew’s table first.” His attitude of entitlement rankled her nerves, especially since she was off duty.
Raising her chin, the Socialite girl linked her arm in Mira’s and pulled the stewardess close. “She’s one of our flock tonight. I’ll pay her freight. Mice deserve fun too. Isn’t that an Old Terra fairy tale?”
Mira glanced at the man, who looked less than pleased, continuing to make it clear her presence wasn’t wanted. Mingling with the passengers, even off duty, wasn’t encouraged by her ranking officers either. Better swallow my pride and yield the table. “Thanks for the invitation, but no thanks. I’m here with friends.”
“Friends like the handsome guy with the amazing ass you keep watching on the dance floor?” Lindy asked. “The one who can’t see you for the red-head wrapped around him? Who needs him? Come with us instead—it’ll be fun.” Her tone was cajoling and she tugged at Mira’s arm. “No one refuses my invitations.”
Unable to keep her gaze from wandering back to the couple Lindy had noticed, Mira was aware of exactly where Clint and his ex-girlfriend were on the dance floor, what they were doing with obvious enthusiasm and she tracked them for a moment. Swaying to the music, the redhead had her arms locked around Clint’s neck and her body pressed as close to him as it was humanly possible to be with clothes on. I don’t want to be seeing this all night. What will I do if he brings her over here? Swallowing hard, she wavered. “Maybe it would be okay if I tagged along. If you’re sure.”
“Course I’m sure.” Lindy took a cosmetic fresher from her purse and renewed the vivid pinks and greens highlighting her facial contours. “Here’s the conductor now.”
The rest of the ‘Lites flocked from the dance floor as a newcomer joined them. Mira saw he was of alien descent, facial features vaguely reptilian, accented by jagged protrusions along his high cheekbones. He was dressed in the expensive height of fashion, like the ‘Lites. His iridescent pink suit glistened in the club’s lights and his flowing black wig was styled with elaborate care. “Are you ready?” he said, tongue flicking in and out.
“You’re late.” Rising, the ‘Lite who seemed to be the leader of the flock said, “The credits have been transferred.”
“I’m adding one guest.” Lindy gestured at Mira. “I’ll pay for her at the door.”
“No need. We can accommodate one more as a favor to you, honored one.” Eyelids flickering, the alien stared at Mira before giving her a slight bow.
His gaze made her uneasy but Lindy had grabbed her purse and Mira’s, and tugged her away from the table. The other ‘Lites crowded close and it was easier to go with them than to make a scene. Maybe this would be a fun adventure, something to boast of later, in the stew lounge. She wished she’d had time to tell Sella or one of the others where she was going. But the ‘Lites had to be back on board the Zephyr at the same time she did or miss the ship leaving orbit, so she’d be fine.
He’d been trying to extricate himself politely from Becca’s company for an hour, but she kept chatting as they danced, asking about mutual acquaintances, talking about her family, gossiping about old shipmates, and he didn’t have the heart to be rude. Clint kept checking on Mira, determined to have at least one dance. The shy little stewardess appealed to him, the few times she’d met him on board the Zephyr in the course of her duties. She’d been quiet on the two informal dates they’d had, but still she intrigued him. She was interesting to talk with and he’d hoped to get to know her better tonight. Pleny of time left—this club stayed open till dawn and the shuttle was scheduled to lift soon thereafter.
Clint glanced at the table where Mira’d been sitting with the Nebula Zephyr crew, astounded to see her walking out with a gaggle of ‘Lites. Doing a doubletake, he recognized the spoiled rich kids from the ship. Troublemakers he’d had to deal with politely more than once this cruise.
“Excuse me,” he said to Becca, leaving her in midsentence as he worked his way across the club, trying to catch up to the ‘Lites. Spending an evening with them wasn’t a smart thing for anyone to do. ‘Lites had their dubious reputation for a reason. He got to the front door in time to see the people he was chasing drive off in a groundcar limousine. “Did anyone say where they were going?” he asked the nearest bouncer.
“Sorry, man, not a word.” The man shrugged. “Could be anywhere.”
Turning, Clint re-entered the club. He wasn’t going to relax until he saw Mira safe on the Zephyr’s shuttle in a few hours. This planet was known in the cruise industry for trouble, due to loose law enforcement and the ‘Lites wouldn’t be any use in a dangerous situation. Next time he had the chance to connect with Mira, he wasn’t going to let anyone or anything stand in his way. Taking his personal AI from his pocket, he debated calling her on the ship channel, to make sure she was okay, but then he paused. She was an adult, he’d been in the wrong to stand her up on the dance he’d promised tonight, so who was he to monitor her choice of activities? Maybe she wasn’t as shy and reserved as he’d thought. Tucking the AI away, he snagged a drink from a passing server and searched for Becca.
Mira imagined she heard Clint calling her name as the ‘Lites bundled her into the huge groundcar, but the door slid shut before she could make an effort to exit. She settled against the luxurious soft leather upholstery and chided herself. Clint was occupied with that sexy ex-girlfriend. He probably wouldn’t even notice Mira had left the club, much less chase after her.
The conductor was passing a gleaming silver tray heaped with feelgoods - powders, injects and consumables. “Best in the Sectors, ladies and gents, on the house. Prepare yourselves for the exciting experience ahead.
”
Mira shook her head, coughing a bit as the ‘Lites partook of various offerings and the air filled with dizzying, multicolored smoke. “Where are we going?”
Lindy smacked her arm. “Don’t ask. The surprise is part of what we pay for.”
Unease fraying her nerves, Mira sank into the deep cushions. The windows were blacked out, so she couldn’t even see where the driver was going, but the drive was longer than she expected. Had the groundcar left the safe zone encircling the spaceport? The Zephyr’s security chief had warned the crew never to go outside the zone on this planet.
Every time she looked his way, the conductor’s gaze was fixed on her. She lifted her chin and focused on the trideo screen opposite her seat, where a music trid was playing, not that she could hear it over the excited conversation between the ‘Lites, speculating on what treat the coming hours held.
Eventually the car stopped, gliding smoothly to a halt, the doors opening.
Mira was the last one out and joined the others standing in a line, staring at an unlit nondescript three story building. Rubbing her arms, she checked the street in both directions, finding only other deserted industrial structures. She took comfort from the endless stream of groundcars pulling up, their excited passengers spilling out to join Mira’s group.
The conductor stepped onto a platform and leaned close to the crowd. “Inside these doors, we’ve arranged a special concert, by a band who swore they’d never reunite. Who do you suppose we’ve assembled for your pleasure tonight?”
People called out names until finally he stabbed his finger at a girl and said, “Yes, the Hyperdrive Hive! We’ve assembled them just for you, one night only, no recordings or trids allowed. All AI’s will be automatically disabled inside to ensure the unique nature of the event. You have to be here in the venue to feel the experience. We guarantee the band will never play together again either. An experience only for this very select group of you, standing before me.”
Star Cruise Page 8