Star Cruise - Outbreak

by Veronica Scott

  “Dr. Shane, I’d like to introduce you to Stev and Trynna Enzell, and their three children, Marc, Kirk and Syl,” Meg said.

  The ordeal begins. Trying not to grit her teeth, summoning a smile that felt fake, she shook hands with the adults and nodded at the children, who already projected massive boredom at having to attend an adult dinner. If I was going to stay on this ship, I’d have to study a bit of basic pediatrics. The idea was intriguing. It had been a long time since she acquired new skills. Surprised by the direction her mind was going, she uttered polite greetings to the expectant passengers. “Pleased to meet you all. Hope your voyage is going well so far.”

  Mr. Enzell laughed as he held the chair for his wife and then sat in his own place. “We’ve got nothing to compare the experience to. So far, this is like inheriting a billion credits and moving to the Inner Sectors, right, Trynna?”

  She nodded enthusiastically. “Part of the prize we won is credits to use aboard ship, so Stev and I are hitting the casino later, doing major shopping tomorrow. Meg said she’d watch the kids for us tonight.”

  Meg nodded. “My fiancé’s on duty, so this will be my pleasure. Better than hanging out in our cabin alone. I have nieces and nephews at home, so I started babysitting pretty young. I figure we’ll stay in their suite, play games with the AI, watch a few trideos, fun activities.”

  “Room-service desserts, you promised,” said Syl, pointing her finger at Meg. “Frozen cream clouds and syrup and sprinkles and—”

  “All the fixings, right.”

  “Sounds like fun,” Emily said, realizing parts of the outlined evening did have an appeal. Better than studying more medical records or traveling to the cryo deck to examine the late Mr. Groskin again. Stifling a sigh, she greeted three more guests who were joining them at the table. Platters of various appetizers were brought by the efficient wait staff.

  Mr. Enzell was a tech engineer and not conversational once his serving of rare Azrigone beef arrived. He concentrated on the meal as if someone was going to take the food away any second. Mrs. Enzell was preoccupied with the children and correcting their manners, although Emily appreciated how polite and well behaved the boys and their sister were.

  The head waiter escorted two late-arriving passengers to the table. Glancing up from her own steak, Emily did a double take. Both were familiar faces, although it took her a moment to pin down the recollection as the introductions were performed.

  “Dr. Shane, may I present Liora and her husband, Sid Daburkn?”

  “Oh my goodness, I’ve seen all your trideos,” Emily said to the actress, shaking her hand enthusiastically. “What an honor to meet you, both of you. Pirates of the Solar Sails was my favorite trid ever.”

  “We met on the set of Pirates, and the rest is history.” Sid, who also acted when he wasn’t directing, held his wife’s chair and then shook Emily’s hand. “Pleased to meet you as well, Doctor. We’ve heard of you. The Angel of Fantalar, yes?”

  All around the table, passengers swiveled to gape at Emily. Even the well-trained waiter paused in serving the next course. Only the three children were unaffected, chattering amongst themselves until their mother nudged the eldest in the ribs and hissed at him to pay attention.

  An urge to deny the title ran through her head, but Emily knew a protest would be futile. The news agencies had spread her image far and wide through the Sectors after the Fantalar rescue, seizing on both the human interest story and the nickname that grateful soldiers had given her. She was lucky not to have been recognized earlier. “I was on the planet, yes.” She lifted her wine glass, proud to see her hand wasn’t shaking. Taking a smaller sip than she craved, Emily said, “You of all people must know how the media exaggerate the most insignificant things, Mr. Daburkn.”

  “Call me Sid. In your case, there was nothing small about what you did.” Sid refused to let the topic go, and the rest of the passengers were riveted by the conversation. His trained actor’s voice carried across the dining room. “You saved how many soldiers? And the Special Forces unit made you an honorary member of their team, which I’ve been told is a rare honor for a support person, even a doctor. Our production company researched the whole episode for a possible trideo or even a miniseries, but we received word you refused to grant the rights.” He paused to consume some steak, then it was back to the sales job. “Maybe now that you know us personally, you’ll reconsider. It would be a blockbuster hit, I promise you. Lots of human interest. We could add a romance.”

  Anger and discomfort made her tongue-tied. Emily was afraid if she opened her mouth to say anything at all, she’d lose control.

  Glancing at Emily, Liora touched her husband’s arm. “I think you’re making the doctor uncomfortable, dear. Let’s table the discussion for another time. We have a month on board, after all. We can schedule a meeting if you want to pursue the rights, and if she has any interest.”

  Sid looked more closely at Emily’s expression and, apparently realizing she was upset, did a double take. “Don’t mix business with pleasure, you’re saying, my dear? All right, what’s on the menu?” Smoothly, he dropped the subject of Fantalar and surveyed the serving dishes on the table, snagging a roll.

  Leaving her chair, the youngest Enzell child tugged at Liora’s sleeve, asking in a high-pitched, excited tone, “Are you the Gantaran Fairy Queen? Will you grant me a wish?”

  “Now don’t bother the lady, Syl. Please go back to your seat.” Her mother shushed the girl, turning to the actress apologetically. “It was her favorite trid last year. She can sing all the songs.”

  Liora leaned closer, putting her arm around the child. Focusing all her star power on the girl, she said, “I got to pretend to be her. You understand make-believe, right?” Syl nodded, eyes wide. “Well, the queen let me make-believe I was her for a little while, but I couldn’t very well borrow her real magic. She needs it all to keep Gantara safe.” The actress plucked one of the cloth napkins from the table, and her husband handed her a writing instrument in a deft move he’d obviously made many times before. Liora drew a caricature of a fairy on it, signed her name and wrote a short message before handing it to the girl. “Just for you,” she said.

  “What do you say?” the mother prompted.

  “Thank you.” Syl skipped to her chair and showed off her treasure to her siblings.

  “That’s kind of you,” said Mrs. Enzell as her daughter sat down.

  Grateful the attention had been drawn away from her, Emily accepted the beautifully arranged plate of gourmet food representing the next course from the waiter. “Please, everyone, don’t let the food get cold.” She took note when Liora refused the planned menu and requested soup instead, flashing the dazzling smile the actress was famous for.

  “A bit under the weather?” Emily asked, leaning closer and speaking quietly. She hoped her question didn’t sound too much like an interrogation, but her medical instincts were aroused.

  The actress shook her head, blushing a bit. “I have a slightly upset stomach. I don’t think hyperspace agrees with me. I’ve had this problem before when we’ve traveled.”

  “I can prescribe something.”

  Liora took a tiny sip of water and straightened her silverware. “Thanks, but I have an inject. It’s worked infallibly before. I’m usually good by the second day, but we did some filming on the beach level so I couldn’t rest today.” Now she gave Emily the full effect of her wide-eyed, full star power. “We didn’t want to miss our first chance at the captain’s table.”

  “Filming? Are you making a trideo aboard the Zephyr?” The entertainment industry had the element of mystery and magic, far more exotic to Emily than what she did. She guessed it was all a matter of perspective.

  Liora took a moment to thank the waiter for her bowl of soup and then answered Emily’s question. “Just a few vignettes here and there for an infotainment special. Nothing with a plot. No acting required. The ship is so beautiful and well-appointed.”

  “I can’t
believe the chef is serving Skonesh seaweed crepes—what a delicacy! Have you ever seen such well-cooked filets?” Her husband reclaimed her attention for a moment.

  Emily thought it was a pity Captain Fleming couldn’t be bothered to dine with passengers, but she’d underestimated the man. He dropped by at the dessert course, telling her to keep her seat at the head of the table, and sat in a chair the steward brought for him. There was a lively discussion for a few moments as he amped up the charm and the passengers vied for his attention, until he said, “Thanks for standing in for me at dinner, Dr. Shane, and now, folks, I have to get back to the bridge. I hope you enjoy the rest of the cruise.”

  And he was gone.

  “Always leave them wanting more,” Liora commented.

  “I’m sorry, what?” Emily asked.

  “Your captain. He certainly grasps and uses the effect of his position on the passengers.” The actress nudged her husband in the ribs. “Did you take notes? You’re scheduled to play a starship captain in an adventure trid next year. You could certainly do worse than observing Captain Fleming.”

  “I’ve been granted a half hour on the bridge later in the cruise,” her husband answered. “I don’t think he liked the idea much, but the Line insisted. I’ll have to inject a lot more warmth into the portrayal than he does.”

  Had the captain met his match in the moviemaker? With a smile, Emily sipped her wine. It would be fascinating to be a fly on the bulkhead during the half-hour appointment. Emily envied Fleming’s ability to make a fleeting appearance whenever he didn’t care to be engaged with passengers. Thankfully, the dinner party broke up soon thereafter, and she was able to escape to her cabin without anyone mentioning her experiences on Fantalar for a second time.

  CHAPTER SIX

  After changing out of the expensive dress uniform, Emily found her cabin wasn’t the sanctuary she’d been hoping for. Restless, thoughts racing, she paced the small expanse, haunted by visions of her last deployment. All the annoying talk at dinner about the ridiculous and unwarranted title the media insisted on tagging her with had been unsettling. Furious at herself, she pushed away an impulse to call Jake. What exactly was he going to be able to do for her? Compare notes about the horrific combat they’d both seen? The shipboard gossips among the crew would have a field day if she and the sexy security chief were seen together after hours again so soon.

  Finally, she decided she needed to be in a bigger space, with something to distract her. She changed yet again before heading to A Deck and the casino.

  The whirling lights of the gaming consoles dazzled her, and the music assaulted her ears as she crossed the threshold. Knowing she’d made a mistake, Emily stubbornly kept advancing into the venue, not willing to retreat. A medium-sized crowd was enjoying the pleasures the casino offered, a large throng around one high-stakes table, where someone was noisily exploiting a run of luck. No one’s spared a glance for you, so get over yourself. No one is staring. Debating if this excursion was a good idea, Emily headed toward the bar. “Mistalor wine,” she told the bartender. “A glass and the bottle.”

  He brought her the requested feelgood. “Shall I run a tab?”

  Emily swiped her thumb on the transaction pad. “Good idea. Is there a quieter place a lady can drink?”

  “No gambling for you tonight?” He jerked his head toward the far end of the bar, which opened into a smaller room. “Peaceful in there.”

  “Too many people,” Emily said.

  “There’s the observatory. Go straight through the casino, and you’ll find the entry at the rear. Not much traffic there.”

  “Thanks.” Clutching the bottle and her glass, Emily followed his directions, eventually finding herself in the isolated observatory, where the ship was projecting a stunning view of a nebula overhead, as if the viewer stood poised at the edge of the colorful star field. Delighted to find the place vacant, Emily strolled to the far end and sat at a small table, pouring herself the first drink with anticipation. Hands trembling, she took a deep breath. The wine at dinner had been a quality vintage, but she hadn’t allowed herself to do more than sip. This high-end feelgood rolled down her throat and hit her stomach with welcome warmth, spreading through her nerve endings. Mistalor had a delayed, second kick as the trace elements activated, fuzzing the sharp memories and applying the brakes on her racing thoughts. Pouring the second drink, warmed and calmer already, Emily said, “Ship, can you display something else for me?”

  Maeve’s crisp voice echoed in the space. “If the current view isn’t to your taste, Dr. Shane, I can provide an alternative of your choice.”

  Flinching at the sound of Maeve’s tones, Emily reminded herself the AI ran the entire Nebula Zephyr. Nowhere on board was outside of her scrutiny. Clutching the glass so tight she thought she heard the crystal crack, she felt the anger rising like an acid tide in her gut. Seven hells, I’m off duty and I can do as I damn well please. “Give me the Fantalar system.”

  After a blink in the display, the all-too-familiar triple star with its twelve planets blazed into view, a star field in the hazy distance. Emily’s throat tightened, and she blinked back tears as she hoisted her glass. “To all the good soldiers I couldn’t save there.” Downing the drink in one long gulp, she hastily poured another, noticing in passing how her hands still trembled ever so slightly. This is not a good idea, but I’m already into it.

  “And to all the ones you did save, Doctor.” Maeve’s remark was cool.

  Surprised, Emily set the glass on the table. “How do you know anything about what I did there, or who I did and didn’t save?”

  “I was a military AI at the time. I scanned the reports,” the AI answered promptly. “Your actions on Fantalar—”

  Emily raised her hand as if fending off a blow. “Stop there. Can we not talk? I’m not here to relive the past tonight.”

  “Aren’t you?”

  Emily’s mouth fell open at the challenge from the AI. Before she could say anything, Maeve added, “Have a good evening, Doctor. If there’s anything else you require of me, please don’t hesitate to ask.” There was an audible click, apparently the AI’s standard way to signal she’d signed out of the conversation.

  Doesn’t mean she’s not continuing to observe. Hope you won’t be too shocked by what you see. Emily kicked her shoes off and leaned back in the chair, studying the giant Fantalar primary star through her half-empty glass. Memories surged forward in her mind, the sounds of battle punctuated by voices pleading for help, and she hastily poured another shot, tossing it off. Eyeing the half-empty bottle, she decided she was going to need more to obliterate the pain tonight and placed the order via the link on the table.

  Jake hoped he could carry out the extraction without too much attention. He strode into the casino, thronged even at this late hour with passengers pouring credits into the games of chance. The casino never stopped. It might be the wee hours of the morning, according to the standard time the ship kept, but the place was hopping. The signature music for the dance troupe’s finale was blaring, and he glimpsed the showgirls performing with enthusiasm on the stage at the far side of the expanse. “She still in the observatory?” he asked Maeve, using the subvocal link between the AI and senior crew.

  “Yes, Jake. She hasn’t left the area all night, had the feelgoods brought to her, until the bartender cut her off.” The AI’s voice was cool as always, matter-of-fact.

  “At least she used some common sense.” He made his way through the crowd, nodding to a few passengers he recognized, politely refusing offers of a drink or a dance. “I’m on duty,” he said over and over. He reached the portal to the observatory a few moments later.

  “I kept the area off-limits except for the doctor,” Maeve reported as the door opened for him. “Once I understood how she was proceeding with her evening.”

  Jake took one glance at the Fantalar system as he reached the top of the stairs. “Change the display.”

  Maeve didn’t reply, but when he blinked
, a new vista of purple and blue nebulas traced feathery fingers across the deep void displayed above him. Grunting his approval of Maeve’s choice, Jake walked toward the table at the far end of the viewing space. Emily’s head was down, her hair spread messily across her shoulders. Two empty bottles of wine stood on the table with a half-empty glass. Debating his next move, Jake lifted one bottle for a moment. The doctor was no lightweight when it came to her drinking. I’d be under the table too after two bottles of this stuff.

  “She has good taste.” He eyed the label. “Expensive.”

  “And the babysitter arrives,” Emily said, words slurring. She needed three tries to enunciate the multiple-syllable word. Raising her head as if it weighed a ton, she shoved her hair away from her face. “Should’ve known the damn ship would call you.”

  “Do you have any headclear with you?” he asked.

  She shook her head and was in danger of falling from the chair as the movement became exaggerated, so he caught her arm, bracing her in the seat. She shook one finger at him. “Don’t want that. No headclear. Wanted to stop remembering.”

  “Remembering what?” Jake pulled her to her feet, steadying her.

  “You know what. Damn ship says you know all about me, what I did.” Emily tilted her head, eyeing him blearily. “I can’t escape anywhere, can I?”

  “A lot of people are grateful for what you did on Fantalar.” He tried to steer her toward the crew-only emergency access door in the middle of the observatory. “Including me.”

  “Only the ones who lived.” She stopped, eyes widening, one hand going to her midsection. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  “Not now, Doc. Let’s get you to your cabin and headclear.” While he maneuvered the doctor through the portal, he sent Maeve a subvocal order to deliver a standard dose to the AI interface in the doctor’s cabin.

  Swallowing hard, Emily clung to him as the gravlift carried them to the lower levels. “The antigrav isn’t helping my stomach or my vertigo,” she moaned. He realized she’d passed out by the time the portal to her deck opened, so he hoisted her small frame into his arms and carried her from the lift to her cabin. Fortunately, the corridor was empty.