by S. E. Smith
“Has anyone told you about the schedule for tomorrow?” she asked as they walked.
“I apologize but I haven’t had time to come up to speed on all the details since I was just assigned today.”
“Don’t worry about it. In the morning I’ll be sleeping in, after the performance and the party tonight. But in the afternoon I’m filming a music trideo on the beach level.” She gave him a wry glance. “It’s basically a commercial for the CLC Line but my manager saw fit to agree so I’m stuck. I was wondering if Valkyr could be in the trideo?”
“He’s not a performing pet,” Grant said with heat, insulted. “He’s a trained war bird.”
“I know, of course he doesn’t do tricks or stunts. I truly thought he might like it. You might like it. I’m guessing the captain doesn’t shut the beach level down for you two. Or not often. But it’ll be a closed set for me, for two or three hours. I was hoping he might think it was a treat.”
Now Grant was embarrassed, as she explained the thinking behind her request. “I’ll see if I can get permission. Valkyr has to stay in my cabin except for authorized excursions. Line liability and all.”
“If I ask, they’ll say yes.” She was supremely confident.
“Probably so, but I also need to ask Valkyr.”
“Oh.” Plainly she hadn’t considered the eagle’s opinion. “Well, he gave me a feather yesterday so perhaps he’ll be willing to do a cameo fly by in exchange for a few hours at the beach.”
She retired to her room as soon as they reached her suite, Grant escorting her through the throng of people.
“How long do you need?” he asked, low voiced, as he stopped at her bedroom doorway.
“I can only take an hour,” she said. “Then my team and I have a lot of work to do to create Karissa for the concert stage.”
He eyed her up and down in disbelief. “You could step on stage right now.”
“Flatterer.” She patted his cheek. “You’re sweet, Officer Barton, but my costumes are much more involved than this get up. Not to mention the makeup. People expect the full show, even on board a ship.” Her glance went past him and she sighed. “Here comes Ted. What can he possibly want now?”
“He can wait.” Grant ruthlessly pushed her across the threshold and keyed the portal shut, taking up a guard stance in front of the door.
Ted stutter stepped to avoid running right into him and glared. “I need to talk to her. Get out of my way.”
“Come back in an hour.” Grant gave him what he knew was a blank stare. He’d used it to good effect on annoying senior officers many a time in the military.
“Listen you, your authority or whatever you think you have here doesn’t extend to deciding who she can see and when, nor does it apply to me. I’m her manager.”
“I’m aware of your position, sir. My orders come from the captain via my superior officer and I’m to honor Miss Dawnstar’s requests as far as I can within ship safety parameters. She said she needs an hour and she’s going to get it.” Grant stood a foot taller than the blustering manager and he wasn’t going to give an inch unless Jake or the captain came and gave him a direct order, neither of which was likely. Karissa had been on her last legs when she returned to the suite and needed the rest before performing.
Ted suddenly seemed to realize everyone in the suite was watching them. He spun on his heel and stalked off to the always present buffet and drinks table, pouring himself a large feelgood and making conversation with several cute young staffers whose function on the tour eluded Grant. The women had the right access badges though, so he made no objection.
The hour went by at lightspeed and Karissa emerged from the bedroom. “Thanks,” she said, as there was a surge of people in her direction. “All right, we’ve got a show to do, let’s get cracking.”
She made her way to the theater area, moving with a group through the corridors of the Zephyr and attracting a lot of attention.
Grant wasn’t invited into the large room where she and her team worked their costume, hair and makeup magic, although Ted went in, giving him a triumphant glare. Grant didn’t feel it was within his mission parameters to block Karissa’s own people from her, absent a direct request from her. Unfortunately. He waited with feigned patience to escort her to the backstage area.
When the singer emerged from the room where she’d been getting ready, he was astounded. She looked as if she’d stepped straight from a trideo, her sexy costume elaborate and glittering in the lights, her multicolored hair caught up in coils by all manner of elaborate, bejeweled accessories. Even he could tell her shoes were works of art, with heels designed to resemble stacked planets, standing six inches high. Obviously enjoying his reaction, she pirouetted on the absurd heels; hand on her hip, coquettish and grinning over her shoulder. “Well?”
Seeing him apparently as a total loss for words, she laughed and held out her hand. “Escort me,” she said like a queen.
He did so, surrounded by her team, including the backup singers and the six dancers, all of whom joined Karissa when she reached the backstage area. Gently she let go of Grant’s arm and stepped away, gathering her team for a pep talk. He stayed alert, watching everyone else in the area, ready to challenge anyone acting suspicious.
The show was already going on at full volume. Karissa’s was the final set of the evening and when she ran onstage, her dancers bouncing and doing acrobatics around her, the roar was astounding. Grant stood in the wings, as close to the stage as he could, and watched the performance. Karissa strutted, she danced, she teased, she brought a child on stage for a brief chat, she sang full throated. The crowd loved it all. He had a hard time keeping his eye on the audience, watching for problems, because she was so riveting.
“First time at a show?” asked an older woman standing next to him. “This is nothing compared to what she’ll do at the big concert on Calillia next week. There’ll be multiple costume changes and aerial components. And maybe some new songs, although she’s been quiet about her songwriting lately. She doesn’t want Ted getting the rights to any more of her stuff if she can help it. Things are unfixably sour between them now.” She laughed self-consciously and held out her hand. “I’m Desdusan, by the way, her chief makeup artist. Chief busybody too. I try to look out for her as much as I can. Been with Karissa for nine years, ever since she hit the bigtime with ‘Twisted Comets’. She’ll probably sing that for the encore.”
“I hate to admit it but I’ve never heard her music before—it’s all new to me,” he said as they shook.
The woman did a double take. “You’re kidding, right? You’re probably the only person in the Sectors who hasn’t heard at least one Karissa song.”
“I have now,” he pointed out, annoyed to feel so defensive
As expected, Karissa left the stage briefly at the end of her set and re-entered skipping and beaming at the crowd as the applause rose to deafening levels. She sang the encore with as much energy and enthusiasm as she’d opened the concert . Then she waved to the crowd and danced off. Grant followed her as Desdusan gave her a bottle of water and the two women headed for the dressing room. “Did you like it?” Karissa asked him over her shoulder.
“Full of energy and feeling,” he said. “Clearly I missed a lot while I was on active duty.”
His answer appeared to please her. “Give me a few minutes to freshen my makeup and then we’ll be off to the official afterparty.”
The gala was held in one of the Zephyr’s big ballrooms and attendance was restricted to high rollers who could afford the steep ticket price for mingling with the members of the various bands. Karissa’s group was in the far corner, with an extra cordon of security staff in dress uniforms, who verified the eager passengers had paid the extra rider to spend time in her orbit. Grant’s job was to stay close to her but unobtrusively, which he did. He was surprised to see the two monks again, seated at a table inside Karissa’s space. The Calillians made no attempt to talk to her and seemed content to merely watch
the festivities.
“The monks are somewhat unsettling,” she said to Grant in a low voice at one point. “Some of the sects on Calillia are pretty radical in their beliefs. I’d rather not have rabid fans from their ranks.”
“Do you want me to ask them to leave?”
She shook her head. “They must have paid the fee like everyone else and they’re keeping their distance. I don’t know for a fact their order is one of the loony fringe. I found it spooky how they wouldn’t take no for an answer earlier though.”
“I’ll keep an eye on them,” he said as Ted ushered the next pair of influential people he wanted her to meet towards where he and Karissa had taken a moment to be private.
She patted his arm. “I’m counting on that, Officer Barton.”
“Grant,” he said before he could stop himself. Annoyed at his own unprofessional lapse, he swore under his breath. He wasn’t here to get on first name basis with the most famous singer in the Sectors.
Eyes wide as she smiled, Karissa whispered, “Grant,” in a teasing tone and turned away to greet Ted’s special guests.
Grant retreated to the far bulkhead, where he could see the entire room and take himself to task for getting too caught up in the casual atmosphere surrounding Karissa. He was here to guard her, not get to know her.
The evening couldn’t end soon enough for him. He was disturbed to watch the singer switch from her fruit juices to harder feelgoods late in the evening after what she’d said about her trips to rehab, but it wasn’t his place to intervene. Ted was urging her on and plying her with exotic drinks. The party got wilder, the music got louder and he grew restive. Somewhere around two AM, ship’s time, the event officially ended and he escorted her to her cabin, surrounded by a group of fans and hangers-on. Surprisingly Ted stayed behind in the lounge at the ballroom, deep in conversation with two nubile dancers from one of the other bands’ performance staff.
At the entry to Karissa’s suite, Grant was prepared to bar the others from entering, but she waved them inside with a tipsy gesture. She kicked off her sky high shoes and settled onto a couch, immediately flanked by several of her dancers. “Join us,” she said in Grant’s direction, as someone brought her another drink.
“I’m off duty.” He made his decision and his boss could ream his ass over it later. Everyone present had a badge as part of her staff, she was safely in her own cabin and he’d been on duty almost twenty four hours straight.
“See you at the beach then. Bring the bird.” She gave her attention to the male dancer on her left, who was rubbing her arm and attempting to whisper in her ear.
Grant left without a backward glance. He understood adrenaline must run high after a show, especially with the kind of adulation and applause she’d gotten. He knew how necessary it was to let off steam and come down from the high, although in his case, it was usually the aftereffects of a deadly mission, where he’d had to kill people. He found he didn’t want to watch Karissa and her people in their private party. It’s not my world.
Three
After showering, he spent time with Valkyr, summarizing the day’s events and then went to bed, but he couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned but his senses were on high alert, as if there was some danger lurking. Finally he gave up, rising and throwing on sweatpants and a T shirt, deciding to do a bit of research for his current assignment.
Which wasn’t to say Karissa had gotten under his skin but he had to admit to himself he was curious about her story.
Seated at the desk, he watched trideo news reports from the early days of her career, when she was hardly the Sectors-wide sensation she’d become. Faintly he heard a ping from his door com.
“Who in the seven hells would be disturbing me at this hour?” He shut off the trideo feed and strode to the door, flicking it open, ready to verbally blast anyone of less rank than the captain.
There was a woman huddled on the deck, leaning on the bulkhead next to his cabin door. Grant needed only a glance to realize it was Karissa, face bare of makeup, her hair a shoulder length curtain of shiny jet black. She was barefoot and wearing a gauzy nightgown under an unbelted satin robe. She held out one trembling hand to him. “Help me?”
Blessing the Lords of Space the corridor was empty, he scooped her up and carried her into his cabin, straight through to the bedroom as there was nowhere to lay her down in his main room, Valkyr’s perch taking up most of the space.
She struggled for breath, wheezing a bit. “Maeve let me into the crew gravlift.”
“What’s wrong?” He was no medic but he checked her pulse, which was thready and he was alarmed by how pale she was.
“Did you see me drinking?” she asked.
“You consumed quite a bit.” He tried to keep his tone neutral.
“Bastard Ted spiked my juice with something, tryin’ to get me hooked again. One sip and I was a goner. He’s always got a stash of high end stuff, likes to party with his girls and get fully engulfed in the joy.” She opened her eyes and fisted her hand in his T shirt, dragging him closer. “I swear to you after the second time in rehab, I said no more. Clean and sober. But he thinks if he gets me addicted again I’ll be under his thumb, re-sign the contract and make him more millions of credits.” Eyes wide, she sat up, one hand going to her abdomen. “I’m gonna throw up.”
He got her to the bathroom and held her hair aside as she emptied her stomach. “Feel better?”
“Can’t breathe too well.” She was visibly struggling, her chest rising and falling as she wheezed. “After you left, I was disappointed we didn’t get to talk I tried to figure out what was the matter with you—you left like a comet blasting out of orbit—realized then how high I was, not just post-show jacked up but really high.” She rolled her head against his arm. “Threw everyone out. Took four headclear but the injects aren’t working.”
“You need the doctor,” he said.
Despite her physical distress, Karissa grabbed his arm in a desperate hold. “Gotta keep this quiet. No press.”
“Dr. Shane is discreet.”
She leaned against the pillows and closed her eyes. “I trust you. Grant. S’why I’m here.” Her lips curved in a tiny smile but even as he noticed her expression, the blue tinge in her skin alarmed him and he opened the senior officer comlink.
“Dilon here.” Jake’s voice was calm. Nothing ever fazed him.
“I’ve got a situation in my cabin and I need Dr. Shane right away.” Grant glanced at Karissa. “I think it’s an emergency. Possibly a drug overdose. And we need to keep this completely quiet, sir.”
“Bring the person to the sickbay and I’ll meet you there,” Emily Shane said on the link.
“I can’t, doc, not unless there’s no other way.”
“We’ll be right down,” Jake said, obviously getting the picture Grant must be talking about Karissa. “But Emily makes the final call as to whether the patient gets transferred to sickbay.”
“Yes, sir.”
Rumpled, yawning, dressed in casual clothes, Dr. Shane and her husband arrived at Grant’s cabin in no time and he was banished to the main room with Jake, while Emily examined Karissa in the privacy of his bedroom.
“I see why you said this needed to be kept quiet,” Jake said as the two men waited. “We do have entertainment media on board for the cruise. If word got out Karissa overdosed—”
“She said her manager spiked her drink, got her unintentionally high.”
Jake regarded him steadily, unsmiling. “Did you see him do it?”
“I observed him giving her drinks, but as far as putting something into them, no.” Reluctantly he shook his head.
“Unless she’s going to press charges, which I somehow doubt, we’ve got no play here, other than taking care of a passenger who became extremely unwell in the middle of the night. And we don’t discuss medical information.” Jake grinned for a second. “Emily’s beaten the privacy concerns into my head for sure. She usually won’t tell me anything unless I make i
t a formal production, safety of the ship level need-to-know. Or Captain Fleming asks her.” The security chief snagged a chair and sat down. “How did Karissa end up here?”
“She thought I could help and keep things quiet. I think she may have panicked a bit also, not being able to breathe right.” Grant stood at modified parade rest, giving a report to his senior officer, making the situation less personal. “That’s all. Maeve let her use the crew passageways and access this deck. You’d have to ask the AI why she allowed it.”
“So Karissa wasn’t here when she got sick?”
“No. And Maeve’s records will bear me out.”
“I’ll be straight with you, this situation has all kinds of ‘doesn’t look good’ written all over it. The potential for bad publicity for the Line is immense. Are you involved with her?” Jake held up one hand before Grant could speak. “I wouldn’t be in your personal business but you’re assigned to guard her, which makes it Ship business.”
Grant stood straight. “In no way am I personally involved with Karissa Dawnstar.” But under other circumstances I’d sure like to be. Finding her on his doorstep, in need of help, had aroused all his protective instincts, which added fuel to the attraction he was already fighting. “I’d never jeopardize the life of a protectee by embarking on a personal relationship.”
“Keep it that way. You don’t want to be explaining yourself to Captain Fleming on the bridge, trust me. Only a few more days until we reach Calillia and she becomes someone else’s assignment. Then you can do whatever you want.”
Then I’ll never see her again—our orbits are too far apart.
Interrupting his lecture to himself, Emily emerged from the bedroom and Grant let his anxiety out as he asked, “How is she?”
