by Julia Huni
“Airlock is sealed.” Bill releases his seat straps and turns to face me, drifting away from the floor. “You’re free to go, Sera Morgan.”
“Gee, thanks, Bill.” I spit the words out one at a time. “Tell Watson and Kato I had a great time.”
Bill’s mirrored visor clears. Brown eyes stare at me from a face that’s familiar but subtly wrong.
“Are you Ty’s… brother?”
His lips press together. “Cousin. You aren’t welcome on Grissom.”
The hatch pops open, and Bill pushes me toward it. Without gravity to hold me to the floor, I can’t stop. I swing at the seat restraint and miss, sending myself into a spin. “What? Why not?”
Bill grabs my shoulder, stopping my rotation. “He always was too soft when it comes to pretty girls.”
The words sting. What other pretty girls is he talking about? “Please, just let me talk to him before you deport me. Take me back down.”
“Not happening. Goodbye, Sera Morgan.” He shoves me out of the ship.
I grab for a handle, but I’m already in the inflatable airlock. The hatch slams shut behind me, and another opens a few meters away.
A face looks out. “Welcome back to the CSS Vesteralen, Sera Morgan. Ser Chaturvedi has been asking about you. Please push yourself this direction. Or do you require assistance in free-fall?”
“I’m fine,” I grumble. I could refuse to move—the shuttle can’t leave until the inflatable airlock is empty and resealed. Bill might want to space me, but the Vesteralen officer isn’t going to let that happen. He might use a grapple to drag me inside, though, and that will be embarrassing. Besides, I need to send that message to O’Neill, and I need to be inside the ship to do that.
I push my feet against the shuttle hatch and sail through the airlock. A quick flip puts me beside the officer, my knees flexing as the ship’s gravity pulls me to the floor.
“Nicely done, Sera Morgan.”
What a brown-noser. “I prefer Triana.” I settle my bag on my shoulder and flick my holo-ring. The message has already gone through, and there’s a response from O’Neill. “Sera Moore, if you insist on formality. I need to get back to my stateroom.”
“Let me take your bag, Sera.” The officer leaves the name off altogether. I can’t really blame him. My mother, Dame Imogen Morgan, is a major stockholder in the Pleiades StarCruise Line. They’re much more concerned about upsetting her than me.
“I’m good,” I holler over my shoulder as I bolt for the stairway.
The door to my suite whooshes open at my arrival. I hurry in, slinging my bag onto the plush sofa.
“Back so soon?” Lindsay “Vanti” Fioravanti lounges in the doorway of the second bedroom.
“Not now, Vanti.” I hurry past her and into the larger cabin. A huge bed takes up half the room. Floor-to-ceiling windows provide a spectacular view of the stars. This cabin is on the dark side of the ship—the starboard side is facing the sun. If I wanted to see that view, I could, of course, since the windows operate as a viewscreen.
Ignoring the incredible view of the ringed Grissom, I flick my holo-ring to lock the door. Then I pull up Ty’s message. We’re far enough from the planet already that real-time communication is impossible without specialized equipment.
His head and shoulders appear in my palm. “What the zark happened?” He takes a turn around the small room—it looks like the waiting area of the Peacekeeper station. I thought Watson said comms didn’t work there? “That peacekeeper—Kato—said you went back to the ship. Call me. You owe me an explanation. Tell me why you changed your mind.” He cuts off without another word.
Changed my mind? Those peacekeepers deported me and then lied about it! Something is not right.
I pull up my message app and explain what happened. I send the message through normal channels. Then I encrypt a copy of it and send it to O’Neill’s secure SK2 message account. If the peacekeepers lied to him about me, they might be censoring his messages as well. But SK2 employs the best security credits can purchase.
Now I just have to hope he’s dedicated enough to check his work messages, even when he’s on vacation. I drop onto the bed, covering my eyes with my arm. Ty, check your work mail. Ty, check your work mail.
Three
Pounding on the door wakes me. I didn’t sleep well last night, and my early morning departure from the ship didn’t help. I check my messages, but nothing new has arrived.
Why would the Grissom Peacekeepers lie to O’Neill about my motives? Time to dig deeper into that mystery.
“Triana, open the door.” Vanti pounds again.
I flick my holo-ring, and the door slides open. “What?”
“Did you hear about the shuttle?”
“What shuttle?” I roll over.
“The one you came up on.” She crosses the room and plops down on the bed.
“What about it?” I hope Bill dinged a satellite and has to pay a fine.
“It exploded.”
I sit upright, my heart pounding. My stomach lurches and churns. “Is Bill—what happened?”
Vanti shakes her head. “The pilot is alive. Those passenger shuttles are built with a safety capsule—the personnel section gets blasted away if anything happens to the engine. He had a rough re-entry, but the capsule landed intact.”
Relief floods through me and a little guilt. I didn’t want Bill hurt, just fined. That’ll teach me to wish evil on others. Karma, right?
“R’ger is asking about you,” she goes on. “And it’s time for dinner. I’ve been tasked to remind you that you’re representing the SK’Corp board of directors on this voyage and are expected to behave accordingly.” The last part comes out like she’s memorized it. Her lip quirks before I can ask, and she flicks a message up on the window-screen.
I stare at it. “The Ice Dame doesn’t leave anything to chance, does she?” The message tells Vanti it is her responsibility to “ensure Sera Morgan understands she is representing the SK’Corp board…”
Vanti curtseys then grasps an imaginary something and pulls it down in front of her face. “And, scene. All those acting lessons are finally paying off.”
“You took acting?” I roll off the bed and to my feet.
“Only in the academy.” She leans a shoulder against the door jamb. “Required courses in the undercover prep track.”
I snort a laugh. Vanti is a never-ending series of surprises. “Aren’t they afraid they’ll lose you to the entertainment industry? I think vid stars make more credits than security agents.”
“And give up all this fame and adulation?” Vanti rolls her eyes. “If a cadet decides entertainment is a better fit, we probably don’t want them in the agency, anyway. Come talk to R’ger.”
I wave her off. “I need to get showered and changed first. What time is it?” Ship time is usually based on the time zone of the station most recently departed, but I have no idea how long I slept.
“Dinner in two hours,” she says, straightening. “It’s formal.” The door slides shut behind her.
An hour later, I step out of my cabin. I’m dressed in one of the many outfits my mother’s personal secretary, Hy-Mi, procured and coordinated for my visit to Sally Ride. He’s updated the app database, so all I had to do was flick the date and occasion. The long, green gown clings to my hips and legs, making me wish I’d gotten a butt contour like Gloria Huatang.
“You look lovely, my dear,” R’ger says as I emerge. He’s a sweet older man, and as I recently discovered, my father. He’s dressed in his traditional Armstrong garb: a long robe of rough brown silk with a cowl neck.
“I see you opted for pants today.” I nod at the black fabric peeking out from the bottom of his robe.
He laughs. “It’s a bit chillier on the ship. Don’t want my giblets freezing.”
I close my eyes, trying to block out that image. “Just what a girl wants to hear from her dad.”
“Dad jokes are my specialty.” He raises his glass in a toast. It�
�s half-full of a virulent green slush. “Now that I can acknowledge you as my daughter, I plan to use them abundantly.”
I chuckle. “Perfect.” I wander across the room to order a sparkling water from the AutoKich’n. Then I change my mind and dial up a whiskey. “Did Vanti tell you what happened?”
“She said she’d let you fill me in.” He pats the couch next to him. “I gathered you left the ship to tell Ser O’Neill how you feel about him. Didn’t go well?”
I plop down next to him. “No. It went great! He met me at the shuttle port—Vanti warned him I was coming. And we got it all hashed out in record time. Then it got weird.” I explain about the coffee shop and the peacekeepers. “They said they were notified when the ship left, and I wasn’t on board.”
“Is that possible?” R’ger turns his glass in his hand, admiring the color, I guess.
“Possible? Yes.” I swallow a gulp of whiskey and let it burn down my throat. A deep breath settles the warmth in my stomach. “Likely? Not very. I doubt the Grissom Peacekeepers are worried about wealthy cruisers overstaying their welcome. I mean, I have plenty of credits. They should love having me spend them on their planet, right?”
“I’ve heard the Grissomites are a bit—they’re careful who they let stay. Immigrating to Grissom is impossible unless you have a proven source of income. And they prosecute tourists who outstay their visas. You’re lucky they didn’t fine you.”
“Oh, they did.” I pull up the list of fines and their astronomical total. “But are they that fast? I mean, I didn’t spend a credit until after they grabbed me. We only got coffee and O’Neill paid for that. Then there’s the fact that the peacekeepers told him I left of my own accord.”
“Do you know anyone in the Grissom Peacekeepers? Maybe someone who has a grudge against you?”
I shake my head. “No one I know. But I’m sure there are legions of people Mother has pissed off.”
“You can’t blame everything on her.”
“Sure I can. That’s what mothers are for.” I sip the whiskey again. “Here’s a weird thing—the pilot who brought me to the ship was O’Neill’s cousin. He said I’m not welcome on Grissom.”
“Ah ha! Now we’re getting somewhere. The family is trying to keep you away.”
“No, he works for immigration.” But did he? He wasn’t wearing a uniform. “Are you saying his family set this up?”
“How powerful is his family?” R’ger picks up a pitcher and tops off his glass. “Could they influence peacekeepers? What did the arrest report say?”
“Arrest report? There wasn’t one.” I finish my whiskey and eye his pitcher. R’ger has exotic tastes in beverages—and they aren’t always appealing. “What are you drinking?”
“TereshTini. Not quite the same as the ones I had on Tereshkova but damn good.” He sips and swallows. “If you were deported, there should have been an arrest report. And interstellar law requires you sign it when you’re booked.”
“Maybe they didn’t want to upset the Ice Dame?” I start to pour some TereshTini into my glass, but R’ger puts a hand on my arm.
“Use this.” He hands me a clean glass. “You don’t want to pollute the palate. And I don’t think they give a flying fig for your mother.”
I set the glass on the table and start a search on Grissom law. R’ger is correct—they should have insisted on me signing the arrest report. I connect to the local copy of the Grissom database—updated while the ship was in port—and start a search on Kato and Watson. Then I run another on O’Neill’s extended family. Bill might not have been his real name, but I’ll find that cousin.
Within seconds, I get a hit on William Hillis y Mendoza bin Tariq e Reynolds. “Bill Hillis—Ty’s mother’s brother’s son. CEO and shuttle pilot for Mendoza Enterprises. And guess what?”
R’ger raises an eyebrow.
“Katheryn ‘Kate’ Kato is his wife.”
Four
R’ger gets to his feet. “It’s the family. They don’t like you—maybe because of your connections.” He holds up a hand when I open my mouth to agree. “Or maybe because they think you’re bad for him. He was pretty upset with you when he left the ship. If he told them, then you show up, and he comes running back to you?” He holds up both hands. “If he was my cousin, I’d be worried too. People don’t always make good choices when they’re in love.”
I look away. The last few weeks have been pretty rough. When O’Neill told me he loved me, I ran away. And then I did it again. And again. No wonder he’d sworn off me. And yet, when Vanti told him I’d followed him to the planet, he’d come right back to me. If I was his cousin, I’d be pretty pissed at me, too.
“This is personal?” I stand and nearly fall over as the volume of alcohol in my system overwhelms my sense of balance. R’ger grabs my arm and holds me up. “I’m screwed. They’ve stopped my messages.” I fling my message queue onto the window screen to show him. The list of blocked outgoing messages fills the screen with red text.
“Let’s get you some BuzzKill,” R’ger says.
I shake my head. The alcohol has kicked in and everything swims pleasantly. “I prefer a little buzz right now.”
“Food, then, is the next thing on the agenda.” He takes my arm and guides me toward the door. “If Kato is Bill’s wife, why didn’t Ty recognize her?”
I shrug. The room sways around me. “Looks like they met after Ty moved to SK2.”
Vanti appears from nowhere and steps in front of us. “Passageway is clear, but let me go first.”
“Is this security stuff really nessess—nessessess—importan’?” I stumble over nothing. “A cruise ship should be safe.”
“If you recall, they were stuffing people into freezers on your last cruise.” Vanti darts into the hall then gestures for us to follow.
“Yeah, but that was mos’ly crew. And we caught ‘em.” I mime catching a ball and spin around. R’ger catches me before I land on my butt.
“And there’s only one evil gang in the universe.” Vanti gives me a mocking thumbs-up.
I float along behind her, R’ger keeping tethered to the floor. At the end of the passageway, we step through an audio shield. The noise of hundreds of chattering passengers assaults my ears.
“I wonder why we don’t have those in the Control Center?” I ask the room in general.
“What, full-service dining rooms?” R’ger guides me to a large table near the center of the room.
“No, audio shields. Was jus’ thinkin’ about how everyone could hear Rash when I reported the murder.” The last word comes out louder and several heads swivel to look at us in alarm.
R’ger smiles and murmurs charming nothings at them. When they’ve returned to their meals, he pulls out my chair. A human waiter appears to shake out my napkin, and R’ger takes the seat opposite me. “Probably because they’re very expensive.”
I nod, astounded by his wisdom. “You are the smartest man I know, Dad.”
He chuckles and hands me a roll. “I think you need some food.”
The waiter brings our pre-ordered meals. Mine includes a large crustacean tail, a thick steak, and some fried potato strips. R’ger has soup and a selection of sushi. Vanti has disappeared into the background.
“Why doesn’t she just eat with us?” I ask. The food has counteracted most of the booze, and I miss my buzz a little. “I mean, one of those waiters could stab me with a steak knife before she got here.”
Vanti materializes behind R’ger. “I have a military-grade ScanNSeal. And a quick-acting tranq dart. You’d be fine.”
I look her up and down. She’s wearing her usual form-fitting black. “Where are you hiding all this gear?”
She smiles without showing her teeth. “That’s my little secret. By the way, I got through to Griz for you.”
Griz is her nickname for O’Neill. Neither of them has explained what it means, but I guess it dates back to their academy days. It used to bother me, but I’ve gotten over it. Mostly. “What did you
say?”
“I told him that you were deported against your will, and your messages have been blocked.”
“What did he say?” I demanded.
“Thanks.”
“That’s all?” I stare at her, my heart in my stomach. “Is he—is he coming back to SK2?”
“He has to.” Vanti shrugs and steps behind a potted plant. “He still works for the company.”
And she’s gone. I peer through the fronds, but there’s nothing. How does she do that?
“That young woman is frighteningly competent.” R’ger pats his lips with his napkin and leans back. A waiter appears as efficiently as Vanti and whisks the plate away.
“Maybe she trained in hospitality,” I mutter.
The six-day flight to SK2 seems to take forever. I send a message to O’Neill every few hours, but every single one bounces back. As a distraction, I throw myself into the cruise ship activities. After four days of playing cards, doing yoga, sitting by the pool, and drinking too much, I’m exhausted. On day five, I book a spa day for myself then, on a whim, add Vanti to the reservation.
We arrive at the spa, and they show us to a pair of changing rooms. I start pulling off my shoes when I hear Vanti swear. At least I think she’s swearing—it’s too low to understand but violent in nature.
“What’s wrong?” I poke my head out the door.
“I’m supposed to wear this?” She stands outside my changing room holding a thick white robe.
“Yeah. You leave your clothes in the locker and wear the robe.”
“With nothing underneath?” She stares at the offending item in disgust.
“Haven’t you been to a spa before?” There are several on SK2, including an affordable one on Level 9.
“Why?” She crosses her arms over her chest, the robe flung over her shoulder.
