Seeking Sirius

by Laure Reminick

  “I believe the whole thing is fabricated by some corporation wanting to write off its investment on some planet,” said the man with the tales of wormhole transits. “It’ll disappear as soon as they clear their books.”

  While later enjoying a gooey-crunchy confection on top of ice cream recommended by Donny, he picked up on what seemed to still rankle from the morning. “It amazes me that someone like that,” he used his chin to gesture to where Mrs. Holmes-Fong was laughing with an older man, “would be the one to take us through.”

  Wormhole Pilot Barnes stooped to pick up his dropped napkin. His hair, or what there was of it, bobbed along with his head when he sat up. The man had clear eyes, an intelligent face, and under a long gray collarless shirt over gray pants a rounded belly that implied he enjoyed his meals.

  “Intention.” Donny looked at Alexa. “You heard. Right?” She nodded.

  Rachel asked, “Why a human, instead of some machine?”

  “I took a short course on physics that may be related to this,” said Alexa. She dredged up details from deep-storage memory. “When a human, say a scientist, puts attention somewhere, say the quantum level, everything is affected, or changed, or modified. Which is considered a pain because it complicates the process of exact measurements. But the man at lunch seemed to say a human mind is able to more than change measurements. Even move a body and nearby items. Like ships?”

  “No mind I know can do that,” protested Rachel.

  Alexa traced her fingers on the table. “Last night at one point it felt familiar to when I meditate, especially years ago.”

  Donny turned to her. “Meditation doesn’t look like much from the outside.” He ducked. “I mean, sorry, but it doesn’t.”

  “Remember the whirl into silence, as we were pulled to Adalans?”

  “I remember very little honestly.”

  “We kind of coned down to a point,” she said. “After that, we certainly did make a leap to somewhere else.”

  Oh no.

  Alexa dropped her head into her hands. “Do you think? Is it possible? That I did something to transport us here?”

  Chapter 21

  “On that day, at that moment,” Rachel inquired gently, “did you have an intention to go through a wormhole?” While they walked to their cabins, Rachel had been jollying Alexa away from her self-doubt. Alexa speechlessly shook her head. “Right. I didn’t think so. Let up on yourself.”

  By that time, they were approaching their rooms and Alexa automatically checked at her door for the presence of the irritating little butler bot. Not there. The lack of one, however, no longer led to the assumption it might have permanently disappeared. And there it was in the room, stolidly occupying the cubby. “That’s it. Enough.” Did she imagine the collection of tubes cried as she pulled it out the door unceremoniously? Hope so. Door locked, Alexa marched to complain to the ship’s maître d’ robot.

  Very unfortunately, before long Corky appeared at the end of the corridor and then scuttled away.

  Alexa’s gut reaction was to run the other direction. She opted to turn before reaching that spot and accept the walk time about doubling. I can use the exercise. Yeah, sure.

  At the desk a couple of people already stood in line, so Alexa leaned against a wall to wait. The man with buck teeth spoke in rapid-fire French and departed. Next, a lady began complaining about too much noise from an adjoining cabin.

  Shortly after the woman launched on her story, Corky ambled into the area. When he noticed Alexa, he stopped. This time, though, he didn’t turn and run. In fact, after a moment of hesitation he advanced, showing his teeth in a manner perhaps intended as a grin, hands outstretched like a zombie. With a wall already at her back, Alexa couldn’t retreat.

  “Dear lady, we meet again. How marvelous you are also on my ship. Is this not the most exquisite cruise line? I am always happy to be on it, rather than some other, less glamorous. We simply did not have enough time together on Adalans, so now we may become better acquainted, yes? Where do you sit in the dining room? I am searching for the right spot. Perhaps you not yet know many people, and would enjoy company?”

  After a bit Alexa became fascinated in a clinical manner, wondering when he would run out of inanities.

  The man with buck teeth came through the area again and accidentally brushed against Corky, close to knocking him over. “Excusez-moi,” he muttered, catching Corky to keep him upright.

  Corky, a little dazed at first, became outraged. “Buffoon! Who are you to touch me? How did you obtain permission to board this vessel? Do not ever come near me again, or, or, I will insist on a duel!”

  Before Alexa knew it, stupefaction rang in her voice. “Duel?” The smell of cologne hit her nose.

  Corky cut his eyes to her and to the other people in the area, who all stared at him incredulously. “A joke.” He bent over and raised his hands. “A jest,” he said, and emitted, “ha ha ha.”

  The buck toothed man turned and left without a word. Good he didn’t insist on French national pride.

  The maître d’ bot motioned Alexa forward. She gave Corky a little wave, intending to make clear this was goodbye. Indications were that he understood because he disappeared around a corner.

  With the maître d’, Alexa decided to try politeness first. “Hello. Is it possible for me to not have a butler bot in my room?”

  The robot in the desk appeared surprised. “There is no other arrangement for servicing your cabin.”

  “I’d rather clean it myself, than have that contraption staring at me.”

  The maître d’ evidently did not take offense to Alexa having a strong opinion about one of its kind. “If you feel it is staring at you, we can cover its sensor until the actual time. They clean in a jiffy.” The last word coming from a robot sounded surreal. Must be some kind of socialization programming.

  “I keep putting it out of my room and someone keeps returning it.”

  “Each is coded to a particular cabin, as is the furniture.” The bot did the mechanical, quizzical-head-to-the-side gesture. “Have you tried telling it to leave?”

  “It can hear me, too?”

  “Yes, to be able to respond to a command.”

  With no warning, the lights went out again and Alexa only heard the last of the robot’s sentence. She stood stock-still. Judging by the silence around her, everybody else did as well. Then both people in line moaned, sounding much louder than normal.

  As she touched the desk to keep oriented, Alexa heard the maître d’ moving items around. Six seconds later, he said, “Here it is,” and the lights came on, showing the bot holding a small lamp. “This one runs on batteries.” He placed the lamp on the desk. “Please accept our apologies, madam. They tell me they are working on the lights.”

  Alexa decided to try another tact. “Does every room have a butler bot?”

  “You joined us from Adalans, correct? I understand Adalans disallows robots. In point of fact, it is quite possible every household on every other settled planet includes a butler bot. Its price is extremely reasonable, cheaper than a vid screen. If you would prefer, we can show you how to turn it off until it is time to clean.”

  Alexa pretended to consider the maître d’s offer. “Thank you. I would, however, truly prefer for it to be elsewhere.”

  She received assurance the offending butler bot would be removed, and decided to find some company in the Day Room, as a hindrance to further attentions from Corky. Nevertheless, Corky was too quick for her, appearing at a corridor intersection. Alexa considered ignoring him in hopes he would get the hint and go away.

  “Has it ever happened with you, dear lady, that everything is at stake, for a trifle?”

  His tone of voice being the most real she’d heard from him, Alexa responded with a straightforward answer. “It has happened that everything is at stake, yes.”

  “Your life?”

  If Corky meant to focus her attention, he succeeded. “Not to my knowledge.”

&n
bsp; “You possess a crystal. It may be pretty and you may be happy holding it. But is it worth a life?”

  The man had an amazing gift for making a girl’s hair stand on end. They’d entered the day room mentioned by Mrs. Holmes-Fong. In fact there she was, probably playing bridge. If this conversation would not end at that moment, Alexa insisted it take place with people nearby. She stopped and asked, “Whose life?”

  “Someone you know,” he said. “Sell it to me. You can be rich beyond your wildest dreams. Any threat to anyone because of this will disappear.”

  Alexa scanned the room. “Mr. Espinoza, are you implying someone I care about is in danger?” If he knew her at all, he would recognize trouble in her quiet tone.

  “If you care about me.”

  She looked at him closely. The skin around his brown eyes was pinched and a deep wrinkle ran between his eyebrows. Fingers tapped against thumbs. He glanced at her chest: once, twice. Rachel, of course, was used to men staring at her chest. Alexa’s assets had always been elsewhere.

  “You have it with you, I’m certain,” he said. “So simple. Please, I beg you.”

  Alexa stifled an impulse to cross her arms over her breasts. “Corky, I am truly sorry you feel threatened.” She licked her lips. “Perhaps you should go to the authorities.”

  His face fell. The smell of cologne hit her nose. “You do not care,” he stated.

  She realized the look on her face would probably be as a pious churchgoer and couldn’t change it. “I care as any human would care for another. Though, I cannot help you.”

  His mouth twitched and his hands reached up. To grab her? When he stopped and dropped his hands to his side, her heart started beating again. “Good day,” he said.

  As he turned the corner, Alexa knew she must locate a hiding place.

  Chapter 22

  Alexa no longer felt secure alone. She also needed to investigate around the ship, since the combination safes available to passengers would be obvious and probably too easy to compromise. After a quick knock on her friend’s door, she opened it and stuck in her head, “Hey Rach, take a walk with me, would you?”

  Rachel had been napping. “Sure,” she yawned. “Want to discover new horizons? Go where no passenger has ever gone before?” She wriggled her eyebrows and put on her new multi-hued shoes.

  “Sounds good.” Alexa would prefer to minimize any knowledge or involvement for Rachel in the crystal drama. What her friend didn’t know, she wouldn’t have to try to hide. “What did you think about the wormhole transit?”

  As they walked, Rachel went on for a bit about the strangeness of it all, then segued to Donny and his strangeness. This allowed Alexa to watch for potential hidy-holes. First she noticed that about every fifty feet or so in the corridors were gaps in the walls of about two and a half inches that traversed all the way around. The gaps were always in pairs, spaced about three feet apart. Alexa stopped and poked into one.

  Rachel asked, “What are you doing?”

  “I think I see an earring,” fibbed Alexa. What she found was the edge of a door. Logical, if meant to isolate various parts of the ship. Not a good place to leave the crystal, however, since it would be pushed out into the open, or worse, crushed. “Nope. I’m wrong.”

  In the small dining area, a chandelier caught her attention. She could blend hers into those arranged in the starburst pattern. But when? The room was never empty, of people or robots.

  They passed through the shopping area. In a box, buried under merchandise? Too risky. They strolled through the dining room, where Alexa considered the air vents low on the walls. Too easy for some five-year-old to claim a prize.

  Next they walked through the view gallery, where a man lectured on astronomy and the inner workings of stars. “A star’s hydrogen burns first, then helium. Afterward depending on the size, carbon and oxygen burns,” he intoned. No place to hide crystals there. Alexa and Rachel exited through the doorway leading to the dining area.

  Outside the gallery they hesitated, and for a couple of heartbeats both pondered the green door with the sign Staff Only. Both reached for the handle. Rachel stepped back and gestured for Alexa to go first.

  Behind the door was an empty corridor of about forty feet. The floor bent as if going over a hill. A single door at the end was visible from halfway up. Behind the walls on both sides electronics whined, exceeding the high register emitted by cart-bots. “You mind staying here to let me know if someone’s coming?”

  “I guess so,” said Rachel. “The door at the end is probably locked.”

  Alexa nodded. Along the way nothing changed, including the electronics noise. The wall sconces attracted her attention for some reason. She recalled about three or four styles on board and these were the same as along her corridor. At the end, she stopped. Normally she would never think of opening such a private door, same as she’d never have gone beyond the sign saying Staff Only.

  But these were not normal times. She’d come this far, probably not to venture here ever again. Alexa tried the handle.

  Unlocked.

  Heart beating hard, she pushed the door open to barely a slit to see if anyone inside responded.

  No sound.

  Holding her breath, she pushed the door a little more and peered around it.

  Inside was an unoccupied small room, about ten by ten feet. A five-foot-tall egg-shaped cabinet melded into the left wall, its open door showing inside a curved seat of the same material as the rest of the room. Electronics covered two walls. One chair in front of the indicators was bolted to the floor.

  Alexa began breathing again. She detected no unusual smell. A few lights twinkled on the displays. It all seemed pretty low key. And despite the relative electronic noise in the hallway, this room sounded totally silent. “Nice.”

  “Alexa,” Rachel whispered loud.

  “Okay, coming.” She closed the door and trotted back, then exited the verboten corridor right before the lecturer came out of the view gallery.

  After he nodded at them and continued on toward the dining room, Rachel blew out her breath sharply. “I noticed a new store.” She started off toward it. “I need a hit of shopping.”

  That evening Alexa dressed for bed in the dark again, because despite the welcome absence of the butler bot she continued to feel watched. She preferred to sleep right through the two scheduled wormhole transits. The first part of the previous night’s episode, the soft bliss, was lovely. But with Corky providing enough creep-factor for a lifetime there was no need to culture voices out of the void.

  No such luck. A couple of hours later she wakened enough to notice the transcending part of the transit. Nice. Then she detected random phrases: “Sell it on Varga.” “Three light years till TohuMu.” “Location of that big fish.” On Earth, in her real life, television in the background was always a bit irritating. This century, even out in space she was pursued by noise. Terrific.

  After punching her pillow into the right shape she must have finally fallen asleep because later, she once more surfaced from slumber to again recognize the thick, soft silence. Sweet. Nevertheless, it ended.

  The words, “Many fecund brides for each of the Faithful,” slithered through her mind.

  After that, Alexa was awake no matter what she did. She meditated for an extra long time, trying to wash away the residue.

  She needed company. It was too early to wake up Rachel or Donny, but perhaps someone would be in the dining room. And it was a good probability the Corkster would be asleep, as most people.

  After verifying her door was locked she glanced up at the lights on the wall, barely glowing for the night cycle. The wall sconces kept begging for her attention and she couldn’t figure out why. As Alexa started out toward the dining room, she noticed that these sconces lay flat up against the wall, all around except for the top. Do they use bulbs now? Different from the other sconces around the ship, these were capable of holding something. Maybe dust, in space. Probably dead bugs if this was a sea cr
uise on a planet.

  With no warning, the lights went out yet again.

  The realization she’d been handed an opportunity took an entire second.

  Alexa took action, reaching down the front of her shirt into her bra. Two seconds gone.

  She pulled out what she needed to hide. Three seconds lost.

  Reached up to verify the location of the closest sconce. Four seconds.

  Jumped, deposited, and raked her wrist on the sconce. Five seconds.

  Heard, “Ka-ting, tang, TINK,” while twisting away to land on her feet. Six seconds.

  Lights came on.

  She began strolling in her original direction, hoping her clothes weren’t awry. She hadn’t identified video cameras in the corridors, though assumed the possibility they were around.

  Acting as if she forgot something, Alexa ambled back toward her room. A quick glance up showed nothing unusual in the sconce. Or was it this other sconce? Nothing showed there either.

  Chapter 23

  Alexa opted to hang out in the day room. Earlier she’d been there alone except for the service robots. Recently people had begun wandering in, often taking what seemed to be their usual places to pick up where they left off the day before. Many read electronic pads or listened to news or entertainment. Some joined friends, bringing with them coffee and breakfast. A few began card games such as solitaire. It was good to be safe in the herd.

  “Hello, dear,” said Mrs. Holmes-Fong, lacking her usual chirpiness. With a gesture of her hand, she inquired if it was okay to take a nearby chair. “May I join you?”

  Alexa hastened to move her dish to the side. “Of course.” The woman appeared positively disheveled. “Has it been a hard morning?”

  “Unfortunately, yes.” She massaged her forehead. “I’ve been sitting with an old friend.” After the woman leaned her head against the wall, she continued, “In the decades I’ve known this man, I’ve never seen or heard of him being sick. Nevertheless, he fell very ill last night.” She came forward in her seat and drummed both hands silently on the table. “He turned a corner less than an hour ago, it appears. The doctor is with him.”