Yes. Today. He would break the cycle.
The dispensary was silent and dark. It smelled of disinfectant and sweat. Too drunk to worry about the noise, he took a stumbling step into it. There was only the shush-shush of his sock-footed shuffle on the smooth tile. Another step. He fumbled with the key and brought it to the panel, stabbing the flat square into the slot. The cabinet opened. The in-cabinet lighting illuminated the rows of barbiturates and opiates stored there. He could make himself a snooze cocktail and go to sleep forever. He poked out a prescribed dose of one of each and stared down at the multi-colored pills that popped into his hands.
Behind him, there was a stirring in the dark. A little light came around the corner. He recognized the petite blonde orderly right away.
“Benson?” he whispered.
“Watcha doin’ there, doc?” she asked, her light waved at him, revealing his rumpled scrubs and the pills in his hands.
It was now or never. She wouldn’t be able to stop him from downing them. Zane chewed his inner cheek. Biting it. But even then, no tears would come. None for the dead. None for him.
She must have seen the desperation in his eyes because her next words came quickly. “Don’t do it, doc. There’s another way.”
“What way? There’s nothing but an unending cycle of emptiness ahead.” He brought the pills to his mouth, but stopped short of swallowing them when her free hand reached towards him.
“Ever hear of the Freedom Road?”
The white glare burst through the blackness leaving an imprint on her retina that lingered like a ghost of fireworks. Astra drew a shaky hand up to shade her eyes. With one eye still closed she squinted and tilted her head away. Where are we?
This was not her home. Astra’s domain was the tiny access tubes and crawlspaces that held the brains of access systems. She was the best at disarming alarm systems and hacking into abandoned military vessels that were too damaged for either side to consider worth parts. Or ships fresh from battle but abandoned until a corporate salvage team could be sent.
But the ‘family’ got there first. They knew where the battles were and lay in wait. They knew what each piece was worth and whom they could sell it.
The ‘family’ weren’t pirates. No. Absolutely not. Of course they weren’t.
This was her life, and she was only useful if she succeeded. If she wasn’t, well, she didn’t like to think about that. As long as she shut up and did was she was told, she was warm, fed, and could do what she pleased in her free time.
After a particularly brutal corporate clash, the family moved in for the salvage. Astra went alone, into a damaged cruiser. No life signs. She’d be fine. Of course. As long as she disarmed the automated AI defense grid. If she didn’t, then they’d find out from her screaming or the static at the end of a dead headset.
But while aboard the vessel, another ship appeared.
Ebudae II. A ship renown for its own form of piracy.
That’s when all hell broke loose. Pandemonium came through on the headset. Her pulse pounded in her ears as she struggled to disarm the cruiser’s AI grid and access the weapons array. The voice of The Matron—the head of the family—crackled through the headset ordering her to change tack. “Hack into their systems. Weapons systems virus, navigations virus, I don't care. Ruin them, do it!”
Astra worked frantically. Her fingers plucking light, like a conductor, retracing the code signatures until she located the one she needed. The transponder sequence was easy enough to locate, and she went in like a deep sea diver to Ebudae’s computer systems. With each movement of her hand, she uncovered another layer of their security. Deeper and deeper she went, finding their vulnerabilities and their cargo. Little did she know that she was being traced by Ebudae’s own systems. Until it caught up with her.
“Hello little one, don’t move. We’re coming to get you.”
Until now, she had blindly eaten whatever was in the meal packs they’d given her in the sack. Until now, she hoped that this wasn’t a trap. Until now, she had stayed quiet, groping in the dim light for the piss pot in the corner of the shipping container.
“Good girl,” the woman whispered. With the light behind her, the outline of a petite woman whispered the coaxing command. “You can come out now. It’s safe.”
Crawling out of the small container, Astra stretched her legs forward, then scooted on her butt across the brushed metal. Her old knee-length cargo pants shushed along the container box bottom. Even before her booted feet contacted the metal grating below, Astra’s knees buckled. A grip on her elbow kept her upright.
“I’m sorry. I know it was uncomfortable for the past couple of days but it’s the safest way we can get you through the checkpoints.”
Astra blinked and focused on the woman’s blonde head and heart shaped face. She tried her legs again, nodding to the gentle voice.
“Ebudae’s cover is usually good enough to get past. But there was always a chance we were followed.”
“Thank you, Captain.. I knew getting out, getting away, would be hard. I was ready.”
“Call me Jody. You've got guts kid. Are you sure you won't join the fight?”
“Naw, I’m kind of done with excitement,” said Astra.
“No doubt,” Jody said. “Let me show you around the ship. We’re coming into the docking supply port of your new home.”
“Where am I going?”
“LS Quantum,” Jody said. “A luxury liner of the Blue Star Line. It’s a Freedom Road moveable stop, but you’ll be staying.”
“Doing what?”
“You’ll see.” Ebudae’s captain produced a wide grin that loosened any fear from Astra’s shoulders. “You’re going to love it.”
“Let’s go.” Astra bounced on the balls of her feet, wanting to soar.
Dazzled, Astra barely remembered getting to a bizarrely beautiful set of doors. They screamed circus with their round lights arrayed along the arc of the threshold. There, centered at the curtained doorway, beneath the lighted archway, stood a petite red-headed woman. She wore chiffon that shifted and shimmered flames of yellow and orange. Above her, in neon pink, Astra read Le Mouche: A Cosmic Cabaret.
“I’m Veronika Elias,” she said and extended her bejeweled hand to welcome Astra. To Jody she said, “I’ll take it from here.”
Ebudae’s captain smiled and gave Astra a goodbye hug. They looked briefly into one another’s eyes. Astra blinked back tears that threatened to spill. She watched as her guardian angel walked away, striding with the muscular confidence that was as unique as a fingerprint.
With the back of her knuckle, she twisted a tear away. Then came a gentle hand on her shoulder, “Come. You’re very welcome here. And welcome to Le Mouche.”
Life was just beginning.
One
The world flew by in a flurry of silk and shine. Ten years flew by, too. From gangly thirteen-year-old to muscular aerial silks performer, the road from the piratical Shadowlands to LS Quantum was her most daring feat. By comparison, hanging upside down thirty feet up was a snap.
To enter Le Mouche meant to exit the real world for just a few hours. The audiences came back each night from all parts of Quantum. The spiegeltent of Le Mouche Cabaret was her world. The people were her people, the people of the cabaret cirque.
“Good,” Char Melana said. “Do it again. Your position was perfect.” She swung on her silk, instructing with patience—or steel—whatever the situation called for.
Astra did it again.
The trick wasn’t difficult to her any more, it just needed to look effortless. As one of the headliner’s supporting cast, she needed to be so perfect that she didn’t distract from the main attraction, the center silks.
Char’s performance was flawless, always flawless. Astra wondered if her mentor was ever awkward. Maybe she was klutzy some place else, but never in the center ring. Char moved through the steps of the routine, one trick to another while Astra kept up, movement for movement.
&nb
sp; When she practiced, it wasn’t to get better than Char, not even to be as good as Char, but for Astra to be the best that she could be.
Better.
Every day.
In the ten years since she found her way out of her captivity and into the Freedom Road, Astra found her place aboard LS Quantum. Adopted by the circus, it was a perfect fit. She had transitioned easily from piratical family to circus family. Her prowess and physical abilities transformed her from cyber-hacker to an elegant performer.
“Wow!” a voice from below echoed through the open space. Li’l Bo, Char’s son, clapped his hands and grinned.
At that moment he began to float as the anti-gravity safety protocols kicked in.
“Get hands and eyes back on the silks, young man!” Char commanded. “We’re practicing here.”
“Yes ma’am.” He grabbed the silks.
The safety’s gravity-lock tugged at her limbs. The lengths of strong silk fabric became taut once again. She circled around, head down, in a controlled slide. Astra regarded the tall muscular boy with the dark hair and freckled complexion. He was fifteen? Sixteen? A little older than she was when she arrived. A nice kid, a bit of a jerk at times, but puberty did that to boys.
Tugging her silks, she crocheted her way back up to the top again. After this she’d go to ballet. Then tumbling. All in the name of perfection. She considered how he’d changed from precocious six year old until now. He’d bulked up, that was for certain but beneath the muscles, he was still a kid.
“You ready to go again?” Char called.
“Yes. Just let me adjust my leotard, it’s caught…”
The sweat on her hands must have been too much, as she adjusted her leotard, her left hand slipped. Astra flailed for the other sail of fabric, catching her foot around the right silk. It wasn’t a fall so much as a slide. Once again the safeties kicked in when she lost contact with her ribbon. Astra floated a second before she grabbed back onto her silk. “Ow!”
Char swung her loop over. She sat in a swing of her own making in the crotch of the two silks that she manipulated. Her eyes filled with concern. Her hand shot out, more a demand than an assist. Astra wound her legs around her silk and reluctantly showed her hand to Char.
“You’re done for the day,” Char’s signature rasp was tinged with concern. “Go hit the shower, then have that looked at by one of the medtechs.” She let Astra’s hand go. Below, Li’l Bo held the ribbons still.
“It’s nothing.” Astra held the fabric in her good arm, wrapping it around her body as she righted herself. She tested her left hand, flexing, and winced.
“I need you at one hundred percent tonight, so go rest. And keep your mind on the silks. What distracted you?” Char’s eyebrows furrowed in worry. They showed her age for what it truly was, a woman in her mid-forties with the laugh lines to prove it.
“Nothing.”
“The truth!” Char clucked her tongue.
“Fine. My leotard was pinched in my bootie. I think it shrunk.”
Li’l Bo barked a laugh. “I think the cook’s new menu is more like what’s happened to your bootie,” he called up at Astra.
Astra yelled back down at Bo, “You stay out of this.”
In one hand, he had gathered the silks, like balloon ribbons, while Li’l Bo’s other hand was slapping his thigh and pointing. Laughter shook the teen, he was nearly in tears.
“Be quiet you,” Char said to her son with the mommy in her voice approaching smack-down levels. Char leaned down, letting the silks slide around her in an elegant descent, as though she was on a cloud. She landed in front of her son and jerked her hand towards the kitchens, “Go wash some dishes.”
“Hey! That’s not fair! I was going to train with Hank for mid-air catches.” Bo protested.
“First wash some dishes. You go… now.” Hands on hips, she was brooking no nonsense with her son. Their bodies stood aligned in parallel, a study in contrast: Char’s physique swanlike while his was a war hammer.
The boy sighed and slumped his shoulders in defeat. “Yes, Mom. Bye-bye bubble butt,” he delivered one last good-natured brotherly rub before he handed Astra’s silks to his mother.
“Lunkhead.” Astra smirked down at him. “Don’t make me tell Sooshie you’ve got a crush on her blue tail.
“I do not.” Li’l Bo protested before he stalked off towards the kitchens through one of the private staff doors.
Making her way down using her good hand and both legs, Astra slid, doing what she thought was a good impression of Char’s elegant descent.
“Beautiful.” Char confirmed Astra’s self-evaluation. “Before you go, I have something I need to tell you. Now, that Bo’s out of earshot.” The older woman reached out a hand to her. “Come here, come close.”
When Char Melana hugged her, she rocked to and fro. Astra lived for that. Char was the mother she wished she had instead of the crazy family of pirates she escaped from.
That was before Ebudae picked her up while the hunt for salvage slavers. The luck of the universe was with her because Char Melana was at the other end of the Freedom Road waiting with a big hug, a smile, and all the patience that skittish Astra Faraday needed.
“Astra,” Char held her in close and whispered the words so that only Astra could hear. “I’m pregnant,”
Heartbeat thudded as a squeeze of unexpected dread grew. “You are? Is this good?”
“Of course it’s good. I’m so happy you can’t imagine. But it means that you’re going to have to be ready to take the center silk.”
The quickstep in her heart increased and with it there came an uncomfortable feeling of sweat on her upper lip. The world was swimming. “W-what?”
“I’m leaving Quantum,” Char said and held Astra away from her to look deeply into her protégé’s eyes.
“Does Bo know?”
“No. He doesn’t know anything yet. Veronika has me lined up to run another cabaret night club on the Blue Star Line. But it’s far away. Further than I can even explain to you. Far. But this will give me and Li’l Bo a steady life, one where I won’t have to perform anymore. Where he can finish school full-time and not have to do dishes or sweep floors unless I tell him to.” She smiled, “And I’ll be telling him to do that a lot. It’s time for me to move on, and it’s time for you to move up.”
“No.” It was too much. Astra clasped her hands together to stop their shaking. “You can’t leave me. Bo’s like a little brother to me. You’re… leaving me?”
Out of the corner of her eye Astra caught a movement and turned. The backstage curtain fluttered. The momentary distraction derailed the argument but not the emotion. It wasn’t right or fair of Char to make this decision without talking it over with her first.
“You just let me know when you tell Bo, because I want to run for cover when he explodes.” She turned back to Char with a scowl on her face.
“Don’t be mad. I have to go. And it will give you the time to grow as a headliner and develop your own mark here. You can’t become one if I’m still at Le Mouche. Everyone will look to me. Honey, you’re ready. Trust me on this. You worked hard. You know what to do. I’m holding you back.”
“How will I get along without you? You’re always there teaching me.”
“You’re not listening.” Char’s voice was deliberate. The patience of practiced motherhood rung in every word. “There’s nothing left for me to teach you. You’ve created the last three routines we’ve performed, and they brought the house down. Veronika is ready for you to take over my spot.”
“I can’t do it.” Paralyzing fear gripped her chest. Astra struggled to breathe. She’d never been without the safety net of her mentor before. Char was there to consult, critique, and guide Astra as a loving and caring counselor. Who could she trust now?
“Yes, you can. And speaking of can, you can get your butt to dance class. Now go on, scoot.”
Astra’s heart sank. She shuffled her feet in defiance. “I don’t want you to go,”
she whispered.
“Oh, but I must.” Char said. “I must.”
Two
Another day, another hangover. What time is it? Doctor Zane Jones leaned across his bed and grabbed for the hydration pack he kept on the side table. He glanced at the clock. Had he slept all day? Nobody called in from Quantum’s medical central dispatch, so nobody died while he was asleep.
Zane put the plastic tube to his mouth, broke the seal, and sucked it down. With every milliliter gone, so diminished his headache.
“Guess I don’t have to go to work,” he said, as he closed an eye, aimed a practiced shot, and tossed the foiled pack into the recycling bin.
Work? Easy. No stress. Being a medical examiner on a massive interstellar space cruiser wasn’t exactly tough work. Occasionally, sure, a death. People died on vacation, at the office, wherever. Death was rarely convenient.
But dead bodies weren’t that hard to deal with, they didn’t scream. Not like soldiers did, especially the dead soldiers in his nightmares. Dead vacationing bodies usually said, “I’m dead, I did something stupid like get drunk and fall down stairs.” Not something like, “I just gave up my life for corporate greed.”
Most of his days, when he wasn’t sleeping or playing tennis, were spent wandering around the cruise liner, LS Quantum.
The unique liner had a fascinating history of being everywhere and nowhere. Blue Star was extremely tight-lipped about the origins of these special cruise ships. Sometimes he felt like Quantum wasn’t just going through space, but time, too. He’d met species from places he’d never heard of and seen vistas that weren’t on any star maps he’d ever studied. Not that he’d paid much attention to astrometrics professors.
Wonder where we are today? He tossed back the blankets and stood, clicking through the ship’s itinerary on the wall monitor.
Cosmic Cabaret Page 9
