Star Marque Rising

by Shami Stovall

  “I'm serious,” I stated, cutting him off before he went into a full-blown tirade. “You're right. I hadn't thought about my actions. I'll do better in the future.”

  He stared at me for a long moment. His eyebrows twitched. He started to say something, and then stopped. I would have killed to read minds, but instead, I could only speculate. Had he wanted to reprimand me? Or did he struggle with my admission that he was right?

  Lysander threw up a hand in frustration. “Good. Don't let this happen again.”

  He stepped around me, but I reached out and took his arm. He whirled back around, tense.

  “I've got a busy schedule,” I said. “But maybe, if you've got room for me, I'll come by and go through the motions of your daily training.”

  Again, the quiet that fell between us lasted longer than I would have liked.

  “I'll always have room,” Lysander finally said. “And I think my training would do you good.”

  “Your brother said you were one of the best in the HSN Corps.”

  “He told you about that?”

  “Is it true or not?”

  “Well, I wasn't put in a Hall of Fame, if that's what you're asking, but I was praised for my instructional abilities on several occasions.”

  “Really? With your attitude?” I quipped.

  Lysander ripped his arm from my grasp. “You're impossible. This kind of mockery wouldn't be allowed in the Corps. They knew how to respect their superior officers.”

  “I'm just getting my last kicks in before you beat it out of everyone, Officer Killjoy.” I couldn't help myself. Fucking with him was too easy.

  To my surprise, Lysander half-laughed. “There's a time and place for everything. We've been hired by the Minister of Medical Research, so now isn't the time to be unprofessional.” He turned away and headed for the lift. “Keep that in mind, Demarco. And I look forward to seeing you in basic training.”

  I already had too much shit to do, but I supposed I could squeeze in a few sessions with Lysander and the ground enforcers. Well, as long as Endellion didn't have much for me.

  With my path clear, I headed straight for Sawyer's workroom. I didn't even bother announcing my arrival—I just walked in and shut the door behind me.

  Sawyer, seated at her computer terminal, turned her attention to me the moment I took a step into the room. Blub floated around my head, paddling the air and staring at me with giant fish eyes. I waved him away and walked to Sawyer's main work desk. Each screen mounted to the bulkhead appeared to have a different section of the ship on display.

  “You wanted to ask me questions?” she asked as she typed away on a proper keyboard.

  “Yeah, I did, but I'm not in the mood anymore.”

  “Have a headache?”

  I cracked a smile. I loved her sense of humor. She got me, and I think I was one of the few people who got her, if Yuan's perspective was shared by the crew. She wasn't hideous or anything, quite the opposite. Cute. Unique. Why did she lock herself away in the workroom?

  “Have you ever thought about us as a quaint little monogamous pairing?” I asked. “We'd make a great team, and we both know you're into me.”

  The red of her face matched her fiery hair. She pulled her knees up to her chest and pursed her lips. “I have seen you naked more than acquaintances should.”

  “I've heard worse excuses for getting together.”

  “But I can't,” she said, terse. “I just… can't.”

  I said nothing. I'd heard worse excuses for staying apart, too. Why did she keep me at arm's length?

  Damn. Maybe I came on too strong.

  “But I'd like it if you stayed and chatted for a bit,” she said without glancing in my direction. “Conversations with you are the highlight of my day.”

  Perfect. Mixed signals. We must have been a platonic thing. She wanted my company, but she didn't want me. Maybe she only wanted women—or maybe, she had a fetish, and I didn't tick the box—but whatever the reason, it was clear that physical interaction would not be part of the package.

  While disappointing, I still enjoyed our musings. I'd rather be frustrated and talk to her than nothing at all.

  I leaned against the bulkhead and slid down into a sitting position. “I wasn't sleeping well, anyway.”

  Blub circled close, and after a quiet toot, toot, toot, he sailed down to my head. His fish mouth opened and closed on my close-shaven hair, like he was nibbling me with the force of a tickle.

  I wanted to ask Sawyer about genetic modification, but maybe I didn't really want to know. The more I heard and saw, the more goddamn questions I had, and at a certain point I stopped caring about existential bullshit. Instead, I stroked Blub and smiled when he shook his fins. “Tell me about your work, Sawyer.”

  She gave me half a smile. “Really? I thought you didn't like it when I talked too much about the specifics.”

  “I've got time to kill, and you've got a nice voice.”

  Sawyer laughed. “Admit it. You just want something that'll put you to sleep.”

  Damn. She knew me too well.

  * * *

  I never got tired of seeing Vectin-14 through the clear, metal alloy on Midway Station.

  The colors invigorated me, even though walking around the station could be a chore. Apparently, Midway Station was separated by decks. The top deck—the deck with the view—was reserved for government workers and high-rolling merchants. The lower decks were for the squalor. Humans. Defects. Deformed. The lower you get, the worse it became. They worked as maintenance crew for the elevator, or dockhands for loading and unloading, and their situation reminded me of Capital Station.

  There was always a hierarchy. Someone was always going to be on top, and someone—a lot of someones—were going to populate the bottom.

  I never got to experience the top until I joined Endellion. Now I was seeing a world I had only ever dreamed of. Two days on Midway Station and already I couldn't wait to move on to greater things. I wanted to see and do more than ever before.

  The dock door opened with a hiss, and Endellion stepped off the Star Marque.

  She was different in casual clothing—more human and less unapproachable perfection—even though she retained her poise. There was something about her I couldn't articulate. Like she was always in control of herself; every detail down to the wrinkle in her cargo pants had been planned out months in advance. The only time I had seen her flustered was with that stupid cut on her shoulder.

  I couldn't even see traces of the wound anymore. And a tank top suited her. Her muscled arms shouldn't have been hidden under the sleeves of an enviro-suit. The PAD on her left arm shined when hit by the light.

  Endellion lifted an eyebrow.

  “You're striking,” I said with a smile.

  “Keep that level of engagement with Dr. Rhodes this afternoon, won't you?” Not even fazed by my comment.

  Endellion walked toward the elevator, and I kept to her side. My casual clothing felt odd, now that I had gotten used to the jumpsuit-and-enviro-suit combo. I did like the ease of casual clothing, however.

  “Are you so machine you don't feel the heat between your legs anymore?” I asked.

  “I love your candid manner of speech, Clevon,” she replied, smiling. “Always cutting to the heart of the issue, regardless of tact.”

  “You've only got so much space inside your body. I've seen cyborgs choose between having feeling in their left foot or being able to punch a guy like they have a rocket in their fist. And I haven't heard of you taking anyone to bed.”

  Endellion pulled a pair of gloves from her pants pocket. “I use only the latest in cybernetic technology. The kind reserved for superhumans. I refuse to tell them—any of them—that I had to lessen myself to reach their level.” She jammed a hand into one glove, and then did the same with the other, covering her PAD so forcefully that I worried she would rip her clothing.

  “You need to loosen up,” I said.

  She gave me a sidelong gla
nce, and the harshness drained from her mannerisms. “Is that right?”

  “I know plenty of methods. They'll take the tension right out of you.”

  “Do try to have more etiquette with Dr. Rhodes,” Endellion said. “And if she mentions people are taking advantage of her, play that up. She's had a bad record with individuals who were only out for themselves.”

  We reached the lift, and Endellion opened the door. The lift had two rings: The outer ring was used for going between decks; while the inner ring—the larger of the two—was meant for going straight to the space elevator. Endellion entered the outer ring, and I joined her. She hit a button to take us up. We were already on the top deck, but apparently there were special lounges located near the clear ceiling, reserved for VIP personnel. I hadn't known she had access. I hadn't even known we would be going there.

  “Anything you want to tell me about Dr. Rhodes?” I asked.

  “The less you know about her, the better. Lastly, try to keep in a public area. The more people who see you, the easier it'll be for me to use it.”

  Public area, huh?

  “What about things like politics?” I asked. “Disagreeing is a good way to turn people off.”

  “Do you know anything about the specifics of politics? Or even have an opinion on legislation?”

  “Well, no.”

  “Then what's the problem? Agree with Dr. Rhodes on any given conversation you know nothing about.” Endellion narrowed her eyes. “Don't second-guess yourself, Clevon. Sawyer tells me you're quite engaging and skilled at repartee.”

  “She said that? About me? What else did she say?”

  “She assured me the two of you weren't intimate.”

  Well, that hadn't been what I wanted to hear. And somewhat awkward to bring up in a conversation. Unless Endellion had been asking Sawyer about it?

  The lift door opened, revealing a cocktail lounge in whites and silvers. The whole place had the feel of an entertainment vid, too glitzy for anything in real life. People walked around in clothing I had never seen in person before. Dresses, military suits with pants and belts, and shiny, black shoes. They were so foreign, they almost looked like costumes.

  “I think we got off at the wrong stop,” I said as I motioned to our outfits.

  Endellion walked into the cocktail lounge with a smile. “It's important you and I look the part of an enforcer crew.” She motioned to the bar. “Have fun with Dr. Rhodes.”

  “Am I seducing her? Or am I—”

  “I said, be charming. Whatever comes of it is fine, but seduction isn't a requirement. The only requirement is that others see you together.”

  Before I could ask any more questions, Endellion smiled to a nearby couple and joined them. They struck up a conversation, but I wasn't the type to schmooze with random, fancy jackasses in parade suits. I focused my attention on the bar. I liked drinking, and it appeared Dr. Rhodes had already started without me.

  The lounge was sparsely populated, and it was easy to avoid the others as I sauntered over to the bar. Dr. Rhodes was the sole patron, sitting on a barstool, her attention on the room. Her white enviro-suit hugged her body to reveal every curve. She was young—I guessed early twenties—and she stared up at me with a youthful expression when I took a seat next to her.

  “Oh,” Dr. Rhodes said. “You're the man from the other day. Commodore Voight's bodyguard.”

  I was on the verge of correcting her, but I decided against it. “And you're Dr. Rhodes. You can call me Demarco.”

  She held her rum pouch close as she glanced around the lounge. Her gaze stopped on Endellion, who took to engaging in conversations on the opposite end of the room. Dr. Rhodes stared, and I could tell from her stiff posture she was on the verge of leaving.

  The bartender showed up, and I motioned to Dr. Rhodes's drink. The guy produced another rum pouch, and I cracked it open right away. Alcohol made conversation easier for everyone.

  After a sip, I said, “I didn't know people actually dressed like this. Looks like it's hard to move in those outfits. Not practical.”

  “They're waiting for the elevator down to the planet. It's less than half an hour before it arrives, and then they'll be participating in political ceremonies. Dress like that is required.”

  “Have you been down to Vectin-14?”

  “Oh, yes. Many times.”

  I knew Endellion wanted me to focus on the doctor, but I couldn't help myself. “What's it like? Amazing? I imagine it's unlike anything else.”

  Dr. Rhodes faced me with a smile. “You were fascinated by the plants, weren't you?”

  “I've never been planetside, and Capital Station doesn't have any greenhouse gardens.”

  “Surely the station showed regular educational vids on plant life.”

  I laughed aloud but settled down quick. “You haven't met the people on Capital Station. That's not the kind of vid they'd tune in to.”

  Dr. Rhodes swiveled on her stool until she fully faced me. “I'm curious, then. How was it? Seeing plant life for the first time in your life? Describe the experience.”

  “In a single word, fan-fucking-tastic. I wish I had touched them with the skin of my fingertips, but the scents and visuals were enough to sate me until I get planetside.”

  I leaned closer to her and smiled. She returned the look, and a piece of me wondered whether it was because I was an attractive guy, or because of her reaction to my pheromones. Not that pheromones replaced the need for banter and personality, but they were enough to shift someone's perception from neutral to favorable.

  “The flowers were beautiful,” I said. “But you're far more alluring than anything in the garden.”

  Dr. Rhodes stifled a laugh and looked away. “And here I thought you were being earnest with me.”

  “I'm being honest. Trust me—I never felt the urge to kiss one of the flowers.”

  “Okay, enough flattery. What do you want?”

  “Want?” Damn. I must have been off my game if she knew I wanted something already. Then again, I wanted in her pants, and it wasn't like I was hiding that fact.

  Dr. Rhodes placed her elbow on the bar and propped her hand on her palm. “I'm used to people coming to me for something. You don't have to play coy. What is it you want?”

  “Well, you're a good-looking lady. That's probably why people approach you.”

  She rolled her eyes. “If you're going to deny it, I'm going to leave.”

  “Okay. I admit it. I want to flirt with you and see where it goes.”

  She didn't say anything for a moment, and I detected a low hum of music coming from behind the bar. It was a classy, slow-tempo piece, with sounds from instruments I didn't even know the names of.

  Dr. Rhodes sat back and narrowed her eyes. “I suppose you aren't the usual type,” she said. “You're not a scientist or a researcher, are you?”

  “I research the best way to shoot people,” I quipped. “Does that count?”

  Dr. Rhodes lifted an eyebrow. “You don't know who I am?”

  “You're Dr. Rhodes.” I scratched my chin, trying to think back to our brief meeting. Even Endellion hadn't told me anything more. “That's all I got. Should I know who you are?”

  “Do the names Simon and Marian Rhodes mean anything to you?”

  “No.”

  “They were one of the families on the first mass transports.” She stared at me for a second. “The mass transports were the ships that came from Earth.”

  “I know what they are,” I said, holding back my sarcasm. “So, you're from an origin-world family?”

  All those origin-world families had wealth and power. Even people on Capital Station knew it.

  Technically we were all descended from origin-world humans, but those with strong inheritance and family ties kept their children from falling into the dregs like the rest of humanity. It was how Overseer Tobin Grank became the man who ran Capital Station in Felseven's stead. And why some humans—like Commodore Cho—could afford to get into
a military academy.

  “My mother operates several laboratories for Minister Ontwenty,” Dr. Rhodes said. “People approach me all the time to get to my mother. They want grants for their research, or they want sway within a university, or they want a career on Vectin-14. The list goes on. And trust me—they all flirt and say the nicest things. I've heard it all before.”

  “A lot of people taking advantage of you, huh?” I asked.

  Endellion wanted me to mention it, and this was as good an opportunity as any.

  Dr. Rhodes played with her rum pouch, moving it around the bar countertop with the tips of her fingers. “It's gotten to the point that a random bodyguard hitting on me at the bar is a highlight, actually.” She let out a long sigh. “Thank you for confirming that I'm an individual, separate from my mother's estate.”

  I smiled. “Is that what you were doing here? Looking for a quick pick-up?”

  “I was supposed to meet someone here,” she said with a harsh bite to her words. “But surprise, surprise, after I introduced him to the researchers in my mother's labs, he's never around anymore. He's probably kissing the ass of every passerby with a title. Pardon my language.”

  I took a sip from my pouch and waved my hand in a circle, urging her to continue.

  Dr. Rhodes shrugged. “I would say he misses four of every five outings. I understand he's busy, but aren't we all? I make sure my schedule is clear, yet he doesn't have the same respect for me?”

  “Why even bother meeting with him?”

  “He's intelligent. That's why we were introduced. He impresses everyone he meets, even though his formal education is questionable. Self-taught and a skilled apprentice, apparently. I'm always impressed when he talks to me about his work, but that's only when we're talking.”

  “I've known thugs who were more romantic.”

  “Right?” Dr. Rhodes forced a laugh, but it was clear to me the subject was depressing her. She stared at the rum pouch like she was going to drill a hole in it with her gaze. “Maybe I should be more understanding,” she muttered.

  “Or maybe,”—I reached out and took her hand—“you should be with someone who counts themselves lucky to be in your presence.” When she didn't resist or object, I brought her hand closer and rubbed my thumb along her knuckles. “From where I'm sitting, I see a talented young woman with a degree and a future. Where's this sad sack you're waiting for? If he's so intelligent, he should know how to keep a schedule. It ought to be a crime to waste your time.”