Star Cruise

by Veronica Scott

  Charlie figured the high end drinks would be diluted in a place like this. “Think I’ll stick to beer.” Pleased to see from the menu flashing on the bulkhead that the place featured his favorite brand, he said, “Give me the Solar Blast.”

  “Coming right up.” As he poured the requested lager into a glass with the casino’s dragons twining across the surface, the man said, “Just passing through?”

  “I don’t strike you as a miner?” Charlie took a drink, enjoying the taste all the way down.

  “In a word, no. And rumor is some big cruiser deigned to dock today, to offload one transfer passenger.” He wiped the faux wooden bar. “Hell, the station owes you, buddy. The docking fees from that ship will keep the lights on for another week or two.”

  “I’ve got a few days to kill before my next ride.” Charlie scanned the gaming area but didn’t see the tall, lavender-haired goddess at any of the gaming tables. Well, he was a bit early.

  “Looking for someone special or will anyone do for tonight?” The balding bartender leaned closer. “I can make recommendations, cheap. If the discussion’s between us, no casino fee.”

  Charlie took another long drink but the bartender hovered, clearly eager to do business. “Don’t know her name,” he said to the man reluctantly. Making a hand gesture, “About this tall, purple hair, red shoes—”

  The bartender laughed, slapping his hand on the counter. “You talking about Rose? Outta your league, buddy. She’ll be on soon.” He nodded at the stage in the front of the room. Still chuckling, he walked away in answer to a summons from another customer.

  Not knowing what to expect, Charlie moved closer to the stage, sitting at a small table along the side bulkhead under a dramatic mural of dragons and ancient warriors. Nursing his beer, he was startled when the music cut off mid-song, switching to something with a driving bass beat. The hologram curtain winked off and five women danced onto the small stage, one at a time, each pausing for a moment in the spotlight before twirling away to make room for the next dancer. The costumes were revealing, glittering and dramatic, hugging every curve. Rose was the last to appear and took her place in front of the others. What followed was a tightly choreographed dance revue, never stopping. The last sequence was a kick line, nothing but a seemingly impossible sequence of straight leg kicks to eye level until the music ended and the dancers bowed in unison.

  Charlie found himself on his feet applauding, although most in the casino were either ignoring the performance or clapping half-heartedly. Rose looked straight at him, smiling, as she took another bow and then the dancers ran offstage. He sank into his chair. What was such a stunning, talented dancer doing in a place like this? She could make a fortune performing in the Inner Sectors or on a big cruise ship. Of course getting there was damn near impossible when a person started in a backwater sector like this one.

  “Hey, golden penny for your thoughts.” It was Rose, still in costume, but with a red silk robe belted over the skimpy fabric. “Did you enjoy the performance? You tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine. I know you’re good for it, unless you already gambled it away?”

  Hastily he stood, getting tangled with his chair. “Please, join me. Your dance was amazing.”

  She slid into her seat as he held it for her. “You were the only one paying attention. It was a treat to have an appreciative audience for a change. I’m Rose. Rose Caludi.” She extended her slender hand, the gleam in her eyes and big grin showing her pleasure over his praise.

  Having a hard time remembering his own name at the moment, dazzled by her, he took care not to crush her fingers as they shook hands. “Charlie McBrire. Can I buy you a drink? You must be thirsty after that performance.” He signaled to the bartender. “I was hoping to get to know you better, neighbor.”

  “ I’ll have my usual but I have to warn you management will only let me sit with you if you keep on buying me the overpriced drinks, whether I drink them or not. Part of my job.” She shrugged, the robe slipping off one shoulder. “No need for you to spend too much. I’ll go circulate in the casino like I’m supposed to, after. I wanted to say thanks.”

  “Don’t rush off on my account. I can afford a few lousy drinks tonight.” He sat back as a robo waiter brought him a fresh beer and a glass of some pale feelgood for her. “Add this to my tab.”

  “Plus a 20% gratuity,” the robot said. “Standard.”

  Charlie nodded. As soon as the server rolled away, he said, “Where did you get your dance training?”

  “Self-taught. I did the choreography too.” Rose took a sip of the drink, making a tiny grimace. “This stuff is swill. Public conversation is all I do, by the way, just to set the rules up front. No lap dances, no backroom encounters. Nothing personal.” She studied him over the rim of her glass.

  “Always good to clarify the rules of engagement,” he answered, not offended in the least. He preferred plain speaking to games and hints. “This must be a rough place to work.”

  “I like your attitude, neighbor. The miners don’t always take limits so well.” She clutched at the robe as it fell off again, hastily covering a fading bruise on her arm. “The casino’s not so bad—management treats me nice enough. Gets crazy when the miners come to spend their paychecks though. We’re slow this week, couple of mines closed down for good, so the guys can’t afford the ticket to come up here, much less spend credits to drink and gamble.”

  Watching her toy with the glass the robo had delivered, he said, “If that stuff’s so bad—and it looks awful—care for some of my beer?”

  Raising her eyebrows, with a flick of her wrist she dumped the pale liquid into the faux plant behind her. Glass held out to him, she said, “First guy who’s ever suggested an alternative.”

  In hopes of getting the conversation off the topic of the miners, who didn’t interest him at all, he decided to ask the question perplexing him the most. “With all your dancing abilities, how did you end up here?”

  “I’m a Sector 47 girl, through and through. Miner’s daughter. Both parents worked the mines, dead now. I have a gramma on the planet, in the assisted living quarters.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Lost my folks years ago. One of the major tunnels collapsed, no survivors. No company pension either. Kumisarc’s a cheapskate employer but they’re the only one in the sector. They own it all—mines, station, casino, shuttles—everything.” She drank deep. Eyeing him as she licked her lips, she said, “Now this is the good stuff. Say, I hope you don’t work for Kumisarc?”

  Charlie shook his head.

  “Smart man. I like your taste in beer. Are you sure you want to listen to my sad story?”

  He raised his bottle in a toast. “To sad stories.”

  “I don’t believe you have one to tell.” Settling into her chair, Rose crossed her legs and leaned her chin on her hand.

  “Retired military,” he said, leaving out a lot of unnecessary details. His tongue got tied when anyone wanted him to talk about himself, not to mention most of what he’d seen and done was classified. Or too horrific to share with a civilian. “Now you.”

  “That was short and sweet.” Her laugh was melodic to his ears. She toyed with the cocktail napkin. “All I ever wanted to do was dance. My mother used to say I was born dancing. Of course there weren’t any studios in a mining colony, but my parents scrimped and saved, and bought me as many dance trideos as we could afford. My Dad built me a tiny practice space in the living room, so I could work out, and Mom sewed me some costumes.”

  She drank more beer. When she spoke again he could hear the effort she was making to keep her voice light. “I had dreams, you know? Wanted to go to an Inner Sectors’ school. Even got accepted; parents took out a loan to pay for transmitting the trideo audition. Full scholarship. My folks were so proud.”

  He studied her face. “What happened?”

  “No credits for the spacefare. You know how much the cheapest cruise line wanted to take me all the way to Sector Five? And then th
ere’d have been living expenses. Scholarship didn’t cover those either.” Rose played with the fringe on her robe’s sash. “Lot of fine print in that offer. Dancing on this station is as far as I got along the path to the dreams.”

  He covered her free hand with his, searching for something to say, even though her attitude showed she didn’t want sympathy. “Hey, you got accepted, that says a lot about your talent. The competition must have been fierce.”

  “And at least I don’t live on a mining planet anymore. I made it that far.” Frowning, she said, “I don’t usually talk about this, sorry. Here comes the damn robot again with my next expensive slug of swill. If I get up right now they might not charge you.” She moved as if to leave her chair.

  He knew his account was good for as many drinks as it took to keep her at his table. “Not on your life. Do you have to do another show later?”

  She nodded. “Two shows a night, followed by more socializing—or drink hustling if you prefer to call it like it is. Then I’m off.”

  “Are you hungry? Want to grab a bite to eat?” He didn’t want to lose her company just yet. Now that he was starting to know a little bit about the person behind the beautiful face, he was intrigued, wanting to find out more.

  “Not enough time. I’ll grab a snack later, before I have to perform again. I should probably walk around the casino floor a bit, keep my muscles from tightening up before the next show.”

  “Well then, let’s go try some gambling. I remember you said you’re not allowed to play, but you can be my good luck charm.” He’d rather sit and talk to her, all night if possible, but he’d noticed her giving the security guards nervous glances. He guessed she wasn’t supposed to let any one customer monopolize her like this, even if he could pay for all the drinks in the bar. Maybe if he kept moving with her, the staff would lose interest. Remembering the golden token, he dug it out of his pocket. “I still have this—time to put it to work.”

  She swung around to look at the large gambling floor. “Which game’s your choice?”

  “You tell me. What would you play, if you were a gambling woman?”

  “Roulette.” Leaning close to him as she stood up, Rose said, “It’s an honest wheel. The casino does a few things on the shady side but the gaming is on the up and up. Mostly.” Strolling toward the designated table, she tucked her arm in his. “My dad made a big hit on the roulette wheel once, or so he told my mother and me. He never admitted how much he lost first though.”

  “I’m not losing tonight,” Charlie said, feeling a mild buzz from the beer, but even more from her company. He’d kept pretty much to himself on the cruise ship, decompressing from his final mission behind enemy lines, right before mustering out. He didn’t have anything in common with any of the other, civilian travelers. But he felt like he could listen to Rose talk about anything. He plunked the golden coin down on red. “In honor of your dress,” he said to her.

  The wheel spun, the ball hopping in and out of the pockets, settling at last in a red one. “Winner!” the croupier said. “We’ll credit your account with the Station or you can collect your credits when you leave.”

  “Fine but give me my token back for now,” Charlie said. “It’s bringing me luck.”

  “Sure, why not?” The man handed it to him with a wink and a smile for Rose. “Live it up, pal.”

  They remained at the roulette table for a few minutes before moving on to some dice game he’d never encountered before, where he lost, to Rose’s amusement. Then he tried the slots and came out even. They laughed and joked, and it was the best evening he could remember in a long time. Life in the Teams on active duty didn’t encourage a man to get to know outsiders. Get drunk, get laid, train hard, go on the next mission. The war was never ending, against an enemy both vicious and cunning. But now he was far removed from the battle and Rose was a breath of fresh air for him, a reminder of all he’d fought so hard for. She left a trail of her untouched drinks behind them all over the casino.

  When she said it was time to prepare for the next show, he escorted her to the stage door. “I really enjoyed your company. Want me to wait and walk you home after the next performance? After all, we are neighbors.” The thought of her strolling through the deserted corridors of the station bothered him, stirred up his protective instincts.

  “Flattering.” Tilting her head, one eyebrow raised as if she was assessing the seriousness of his offer, Rose laughed. “You do realize I walk home by myself every night normally and with a security guard when certain really rowdy miners are in port? Gallant of you though. Old time chivalrous. Thanks, anyway, but I can take care of myself.” With a wave she disappeared through the portal.

  Disappointed but not discouraged, Charlie sat through the second performance before cashing out his chips and heading back to the living quarters. After all, he had two days left on this Station. He’d do his best to see her again. There was something special about Rose, an ease in being with her, talking to her as he’d never done with any other woman he could remember. He craved more time with her, wondering at himself and his reactions. Was he falling for some dancer in an out of the way casino? His old buddies would laugh themselves sick over that, given the way he’d only ever had—or wanted—casual hookups in the past. He took a deep breath. But he was done with the past, out of the Teams, where death could come at any moment. He was ready to make a new life, try new things. Wasn’t he?

  Next morning came too early for Rose, as it always did these days. She refused to give in to the inevitable, scary thoughts about getting old. Yawning, she stretched and walked into her tiny kitchen barefoot. Last night sure had been different, with Charlie to talk to. He was polite, entertaining and damn good to look at. She’d seen too many good men come and go, and after the first one or two, she’d not allowed herself to grow attached to anyone. No more grief over the inevitable separation. Especially now, with the forced transfer in her near future. So why not indulge herself with a fling? Unlike that troublesome jerk Cade, this guy had manners and a future. As she surveyed her supply of rations, she bit her lip, tempted to take a risk, make up for not allowing him to walk her home. “It’s the only hospitable thing to do, right? Neighbors and all?” Laughing at herself, she threw on her favorite loose dress, belted the sash, slid her feet into the waiting sandals, and sauntered into the corridor.

  She flipped the door sensor on his unit and waited. A few moments later the portal slid aside to reveal a sleepy, tousled Charlie, barefoot, clad only in sweatpants hanging low on his hips. She tried not to stare at the rock-hard abs on his chiseled frame or the intricate tattoos on his biceps as she said, “Got plans for breakfast?”

  Running one hand through his short, military-cut blond hair, he said, “Nothing more solid than going up to the restaurant at the casino later. I assume the place serves breakfast. Why?”

  “There was a little trouble last night with a few of the miners. They got into an argument with Security and kinda broke up the place so it won’t be open again until tonight. Tempers are short these days.” Why am I rambling? He’ll think I’m an idiot. She bit her lip. “Anyway, I’ve got a better offer than the menu at the station’s greasy dive. I’m cooking, come eat with me.”

  His smile was a reward in itself. She loved the way the crow's feet around his brown eyes crinkled and the single dimple appeared in his left cheek. “A home cooked meal—how can I resist? Are you sure you can spare the rations?”

  Since I’ll be leaving in two weeks, there’s no need to be sensible about hoarding food or anything else. Suppressing a flash of pain at what the casino manager had told her privately last night, Rose maintained her pleasant expression. None of this was Charlie’s concern. “No problem or I wouldn’t ask.” Yeah, saving rations was one of the last things on her mind right now. She sure wasn’t going to be taking anything with her when the Company shipped her out, frozen in cryo sleep.

  “Give me a few minutes to make myself civilized and I’ll be right over. “He scraped
a hand over the stubble on his jaw. “I’d ask if I can bring anything but since I wasn’t expecting to be at the station long, I’m traveling light.”

  “Just bring yourself.” She gave a cheery wave and headed back to her place, where she threw together a quick meal of scrambled faux eggs and synth bacon, with fried tubers from her home world, garnished with chives. She was taking heated rolls from the cooker when the alert sounded. Wiping her hands on her skirt, she ran to let him in. He was fully dressed now, somewhat to her regret, in crisp utility pants, sturdy boots that had clearly seen a lot of wear, and a green knit shirt stretching tight across his broad chest.

  “The food’s ready,” she said, leading him to the small dining space. “Have a seat.”

  He stopped. “Are those real roses?”

  She glanced at the three ruby red flowers on the table, standing haphazardly in a dragon-embossed tumbler she’d taken from the casino. “What do you think?”

  He leaned closer to pick up the makeshift vase and inhale the scent. “These must have cost a fortune. Not easy to get out here in deep space.” As he lowered the glass to the table, he said, “Roses are my mother’s favorite flower in her garden at home. I haven’t seen any in a long time.”

  While he piled eggs onto his plate, she touched one of the velvet petals and sank into her own chair. “Your home planet must be more hospitable than mine, if your mom can grow roses on the surface. Nothing survives on the surface of any world in this sector. Bunch of rocks.”

  Charlie handed her the rolls. “My home’s pretty lush all right, lot of farms and ranches. My dad’s a veterinarian.”

  “What about you?”

  “Remember I told you last night I was retired military? I’m headed home to claim my veteran’s acres now. Not sure if I’m going to farm or ranch, or pursue a trade. First thing I intend to do is a whole lot of nothing.” He rolled his shoulders and grimaced. “Need time and a lot of open space to decompress from twenty-five years of war. I’m going to savor the lack of anybody giving me orders.”