by S. E. Smith
“I need one every day and have since the first night I slept on this ship,” Juli said, putting on her uniform in a hurry. “Why would today be any different? Seven hells, I don’t care how it happened, just please restore the order for tomorrow.” She grabbed a nutrition bar to wolf down in the antigrav and was out the door running through the corridor before she remembered she’d wanted to put the uncanny rock in her office safe. No time for a side trip right now anyway.
She didn’t return to her cabin until late in the afternoon and the first thing she saw was the rock. She still didn’t have time to take it to her office either. Hands on her hips, she glared at it, relieved to find her eyes weren’t playing any more tricks on her. The mineral colors were as she remembered them and today she told herself she didn’t see any new marks as if the stone was slowly being carved into a statue by an invisible sculptor. “Tomorrow,” she said to the rock, as she hastened past the desk and into her bedroom to shower and change for the formal reception.
Captain Fleming held himself aloof from these events, leaving all of the passenger interface to his Executive Officer, who’d been hired away from another cruise line expressly for his skills as a personable extrovert. Passengers didn’t seem to mind the captain’s attitude, as one of the CLC Line’s huge selling points was the utter professionalism of the flight crew led by Fleming, all veterans of many years in the Space Navy. If anything, Juli thought as she took her place in the receiving line at the entrance to the ship’s elaborately appointed ballroom, passengers preferred Fleming’s military dedication to duty for the strong reassurance of safety his stance engendered. And the guests were happy with the XO doing the social niceties.
And when Fleming made an exception, perhaps actually sitting at the captain’s table in the First Class dining room, to show his respect for a special guest, he made a huge impression.
The captain was never at these big social events and tonight was no exception.
Even Juli, who loved interacting with passengers, found the reception line daunting tonight. Nicely done, captain. Good job of getting yourself out of the things you don’t want to do. She envied Fleming his ability to do only what he wanted, especially after Aunt Dian and Charrli came through the entry and invited her to join them at her table. “Steve is coming later, when he’s off duty,” Dian said, giving Juli a meaningful glance as she patted Charrli. “He promised me a dance or two because he knows how much I love to take a spin around the floor. I’d be happy to give one of my dances to you.”
“I’m afraid I’m actually on duty tonight,” Juli said, trying not to be rude and focus on the waiting passengers in line behind Dian. “But thank you.” As Dian moved into the ballroom, Juli suppressed a smile. Is she trying to be a matchmaker? As wonderful as it would be to dance with Steve Aureli, tonight wasn’t the night.
Still, when she stopped by the table where Dian had settled, and found the Third Officer there in his dress uniform, Juli couldn’t help but blush at her instinctive reaction to running into him, which was always a pang of desire and wistfulness. His aunt raised her eyebrows and nodded at Steve as if to encourage Juli.
“Ready to take the floor again?” Steve asked his aunt as the musicians began a new song. He held out his hand in invitation but the elderly woman shook her head.
“Dance with Juli instead. I think Charrli and I are a little worn out.”
Juli was going to demur but to her surprise, Steve took her hand and whirled her onto the dance floor, her blue and silver skirt swirling around his legs as he maneuvered her smoothly through the crowd of other dancers. “No, really, you don’t have to dance with me,” she said. “And I’m on duty.”
“We’ll provide a good example for the passengers then,” Steve said. “Encourage the wallflowers maybe. I’m not a good dancer by any means—ask my poor instructor at the Academy—but Aunt Dian loves it so much I make the effort for her. Anything to make her happy.”
Despite his modest disclaimer, he was an excellent partner and Juli relaxed into the rhythm and enjoyed the harmony with which the two of them moved in time to the music. She rarely danced at these events so surely she could enjoy it for once.
“Dian’s quite a character,” Juli said. “I was thinking of asking her to do a guest lecture. I’ve been quite astonished how many people recognize her and want to talk about her adventures.”
“She’d probably say yes. You should ask her. Travel trideo blogging is her second career and she enjoys it.” Steve sent her twirling before pulling her smoothly back to him to execute a series of complex steps together.
Breathless but having a great time, Juli tried to keep the topic under discussion going. “What was her first career?”
“Aunt Dian was in the military but most of her missions are still classified,” Steve said, guiding her to the left to avoid a less skillful but highly enthusiastic couple. “She and Charrli. Z Corps Special Ops.”
Juli stumbled and Steve kept her on her feet, re-engaging with the music’s beat smoothly. “Are you kidding me?”
“No, it’s the truth.” He laughed. “I know, she doesn’t look like a Special Forces vet but she is. Don’t make her mad—her combat skills remain sharp. It’s why no one including me worries too much about her traveling all over the Sectors and visiting obscure places. She can take care of herself in any hairy situation better than most people can cross a street. She also knows how to reach out for help if necessary and there’s a list longer than my arm of those who’d rush to assist her, starting with me.” He pulled Juli closer and said, “But enough about my aunt. We should try to enjoy the music. You dance like a dream.”
She made a self-deprecating face because she knew any expertise she’d shown in the last few minutes was solely due to the excellence of her partner. Trust him to maneuver on the dance floor as well as he did in space. Rather than embarrass herself or him she kept her reply simple. “So do you.”
The music ended and Steve and Juli joined the applause for the orchestra.
“We should do this again some time,” Steve said, one hand resting lightly on her hip as he escorted her to the table where Dian waited. “When you’re not on duty and we don’t have a chaperone.”
“I’d love that.” Well, okay, maybe Aunt Dian doing a bit of matchmaking wasn’t such a bad thing after all.
“You have an interstellar call,” Maeve said to Juli through the senior officers’ comlink. “Shall I take a message?”
Juli tamped down a flash of annoyance. “Of all the inconvenient times—no, I’ll take it. Let me find a quieter place.”
“Problem?” Steve studied her face, eyes narrowed. “Can I help?”
“No, thanks, grumbling to myself over a piece of badly timed business.” Juli hastened out of the ballroom and into a nearby, smaller conference room. Closing the door, she keyed one of the smaller screens and Maeve put her through to the caller.
The high priced lawyer eyed her with an appreciative grin. “I must have caught you at a bad time. Sorry to interrupt your evening, Ms. Shaeffer, but my client is interested in acquiring a certain artifact we believe you have in your possession. We’ll match and outbid any other offer.”
“I don’t want to sell it and technically it belongs to my employer,” she said, wondering if she was giving too much away before getting any information. “But I do have a question.”
He raised one eyebrow but didn’t cut off the call. Maybe he hoped he could change her mind.
Frustration made her bite back a deep sigh and she made her next question more sharply pointed. “Why are so many people after this item? It’s nothing special, at least not that I can see.”
Twirling his glass, the lawyer laughed. “Well, since the charges for this call are on you and I’ll be billing my client for the time, I have to ask you a question in return. How well did you know Mr. Rodrimueller?”
“Not at all. I wasn’t even on the ship he took his trip on,” Juli said. “I came into this late and I’m trying to fig
ure it out.”
Taking a sip of an expensive feelgood from the crystal goblet, he said, “The man was insanely lucky. He wasn’t a generational billionaire you know. He came up the old fashioned way, hard scrabble, first one ship then two, then got a handful of government contracts but still a tiny fish. Hovering on the edge of disaster but pulling out miracles to survive.” Now the lawyer leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers, a gleam in his eye as if he relished the next part of the story. Juli was struck by how much he had the air of a predator as he went on answering her question. “Then suddenly his luck changes and I mean completely, after a vacation on Tahumaroa Two. He closes deals with unbelievably favorable terms for his company, he’s in the right place at the right time on key developments, seven hells, he and his wife even survived the Zebular Twelve disaster when so many died. Rodrimueller always claimed it was due to his good luck charm.”
“And people believe that nonsense?” she asked with a laugh, visualizing the misshapen lump of minerals sitting on her desk. “How ridiculous.”
“Well there were those who said he must have made a deal with the devil.” The lawyer winked to indicate his light hearted take on the speculation. “But really there was nothing more conventional to explain his success. Good luck charm is as likely as anything else. And then suddenly it all turned on him. Everything he touched went sour. His wife died. One of his ships exploded and another was taken by the Shemdylann pirates. Quite a few business reversals in fact. He got one of the few untreatable cancers left in the universe—his fall was as ugly as his rise was a fairy tale. And that’s all I can tell you. My client has his reasons for wanting the artifact but if you’re not prepared to sell, we’re done here. Feel free to call me if you should change your mind. Goodnight, Ms. Shaeffer.”
And the link closed. Juli was left staring at a blank screen.
Shaking her head, she rose and left the conference room, on her way to smooth out a minor confusion in one of the special services lounges which Maeve had whispered in her ear as the call terminated. She couldn’t stop thinking about the object waiting in her cabin, however. It’s a rock. An ugly rock. Nothing more.
Good luck charm or not, she was going to be a lot happier once she’d locked it in the office safe.
When she finally reached her cabin, she kept herself from even glancing at the rock because she was sure it would upset her. Juli rushed past the desk and headed straight into the bedroom.
In the morning she got dressed, had a snack in the kitchenette and then took a deep breath and went to the desk where the rock sat. She had the silly thought the lump was glowering at her like a chunk of hot lava as she packed it in the cheap straw box. Too much imagination for my own good today. Of course the surface was cool to the touch and any comparisons to hot lava were fanciful. Another aspect of the rock was bothersome, however —the increased area of the purple and white minerals had been unmistakable this morning, as well as more definition to the carving.
How was this happening?
“I can’t wait to put you back on the beach where you belong,” she said, staring at the container after she tied it up in the scarf again. “I’m sure you’ll be happier.”
She had a breathtakingly long to do list for the day but she made time to stop in her office and shove the box into the safe, breathing more easily once she’d done so. “You have a message from the Diva Azlaya’s assistant,” Maeve said.
With a sense of foreboding, Juli accepted the call. “Good morning, I hope she’s finding the accommodations on the ship to her taste.”
“She declared her suite and the service were in accordance with the contract at least, but nothing to congratulate you for,” the assistant said with a sniff. “I’m afraid the Diva won’t be able to sing tonight after all.”
Panic was Juli’s first reaction, adrenaline flooding her body immediately. This concert was the highlight of the voyage and the ship’s best cabins were booked solid with the rich and bored who wanted the rare experience of hearing the woman sing in person. She counted to five and then asked, “Is she unwell? Should we have the doctor see her?”
“Diva Azlaya was eating breakfast a few minutes ago—berating her secretary over a failure to respond fast enough to a request if you must know—and her voice disappeared,” the man said, lowering his own volume as if sharing awful news. “This has never happened before. The laryngitis once or twice, yes, but nothing sudden like this.”
“Are her milaplonette symbionts healthy? No new problems with them?”
He sniffed and glared at Juli. “Since your ship’s mangy, feral cat has been contained and banished from passenger areas, there have been no new problem with the diva’s companions.”
Juli let the insult to Moby the cat slide by her unchallenged. Moby was hardly mangy and certainly not feral but she was no respecter of boundaries either, especially where fluttery flying things were concerned. “Well I’m certainly relieved to hear good news about the symbionts doing well. I’ll be right up and I’ll have the doctor meet me there,” Juli said.
After the diva’s assistant agreed to permit the intrusion and Juli had called Dr. Shane, she stood and stared at the safe. This is crazy. “If I let you out and put you on my desk here, where you can be admired, will you change the bad luck to good for me? Please?” Laughing at herself, she re-opened the safe and removed the box. A moment later the rock sat in a hastily cleared off space on her synth wood desk. Juli threw the straw box and the scarf in a drawer and ran out. As she made her way to the gravlift she reflected on her uncharacteristic impulse where the rock was concerned. Hey, if Azlaya doesn’t sing, I’m in huge trouble, so I might as well try everything, even crazy stuff like appealing to an alien idol. Apparently it worked for Rodrimueller. Until it didn’t.
Chuckling at herself, she took the fast lane in the gravlift and was at the door of the diva’s suite a few minutes later. Dr. Shane was already there, doing an examination, she and the diva in the main bedroom while the assistants and secretaries and other hangers-on clustered in the sitting room and talked in hushed tones.
“I’m here if you need me,” Juli said, tapping on the bedroom door lightly.
Emily called her inside.
The diva was ensconced in the center of the bed, embroidered satin pillows everywhere. Like a queen she was wearing an elaborately bejeweled robe. A tray full of lozenges, syrups and a cup of steaming tea sat on the edge of the bed.
Emily smiled as Juli crossed the threshold. “Whatever the problem may have been, fortunately the condition appears to have been self-limiting and has cleared up now,” the doctor said in her usual matter of fact manner. “Just a few minutes ago.”
The diva put her hand to her throat, raised her head and let out a full voiced aria. The music filled the room. Her symbiont milaplonettes fluttered around her head in a gorgeous multicolored display, a dazzling flock of alien butterflies. Juli stood with chills running up and down her spine and not because of the power of the music.
It’s not possible—the thing is a rock. I must be losing my mind here.
“I’m—I’m so relieved,” she said, forcing herself to speak as the musical notes ended. “The disappointment of not hearing you sing would be devastating to all your fans on board.”
“I’ll be fine, I’m sure,” the diva said, patting Emily’s arm. “We must make space for the good doctor to attend me backstage and sit through the concert.”
Juli had no idea if Emily had the slightest desire to attend the concert but she chimed right in with her agreement. Anything to keep the diva happy. “Absolutely. You’ll be there, won’t you, Dr. Shane?”
Eyes wide, studying Juli’s face, Emily nodded slowly. “Of course, as long as there’s no other medical emergency. It’ll be a thrill of a lifetime.”
“You may leave now,” the diva said grandly. “I must finish breakfast. The singing requires much energy. I have my rituals of preparation. I must hydrate. I must consume the special elixir which allows the mi
laplonettes to enter an altered state and pour their energy into the performance.” She gestured expansively. “Much to do and you are not needed at this time.”
“I’ll see you when you arrive at the theater, madam,” Juli said, following the doctor from the bedroom.
After a brief chat with the assistant, including stern admonitions to call her immediately if there was any recurrence of the throat problem, Juli and Emily exited to the corridor.
“There was no physical problem,” Emily said as they headed for the gravlift. “In a less experienced performer, I’d diagnose stage fright, but not Azlaya. The woman has the constitution and the personality of a battle cruiser.”
Juli remembered the unfortunate incident when the diva had come on board and Moby the Ship’s cat had seen fit to chase the milaplonettes into hiding. Azlaya had grown visibly fragile right in front of their eyes until her symbionts returned. “Appearances can be deceiving, I guess. But no inflammation, no cough, nothing?”
“She told me she was discussing the concert with her secretary and her assistant while she was beginning her breakfast and suddenly her voice was gone.” Emily paused on the threshold of the gravlift. “I asked but everything she was eating was on her list of acceptable foods, prepared by Chef Stephanie personally. No food allergy situation.” The doctor shrugged. “A mystery.”
“I can’t afford for her to have another mysterious lapse tonight, not with all the generational billionaires and Socialites who paid huge amounts of credits to attend this concert,” Juli said.
Juli was entitled to a ticket to the concert and one extra ticket so after careful deliberation, she offered it to Dian, swinging by her cabin during her morning rounds of the ship and the activities. “In case the private concert later in the cruise doesn’t happen,” she said. “At least you would have heard Azlaya sing.”
“How lovely of you to offer. I’d be thrilled.” Dian’s eyes sparkled gleefully like a child promised a treat.
Fiddling with her handheld to disguise the awkwardness of what she had to say next, Juli raised a potentially difficult issue. “But Charrli has to stay in your cabin, I’m afraid.” She rushed on before Dian could say anything. “I know he’s incredibly intelligent and a sweetheart but the diva had an unfortunate encounter with the ship’s cat and she has a decided aversion to small mammals.”