The Dancer's Summons Page 3

  Twisting her tool's many options, she had a small ion blade out and began to run it back and forth over the pile of her cut-off hair. She didn't want to leave any trace to let anyone know she had changed her appearance. The chances of anyone finding something down here were extremely rare, but she had no idea who was on her trail. Making a mistake might mean living behind bars or worse.

  Remembering her mother's warning—she had never danced and never intended to, as she hid her birthright. But she did have other talents and what others called smarts. So now she pulled out the cape and her make-up kit. Using a standard hair removal unit, she checked her dyed lashes again with some careless dark eye shadow. She wiped away all traces of color on her lips but stuck her tongue into the dark dye. It would wear off with eating, but it was a short-time disguise.

  Ready to leave, Moxxi still felt she needed to wait to make sure that if someone was following her either in person or on the cameras, they might get bored. The idea was to make them think they had lost her in the market. Gathering her items and putting everything away in its proper place, she checked one more time to ensure the weapon was hidden from scans. Inside the special film, any metals were invisible, and the weapon was wrapped tight.

  If there was one thing every dancer knew, it was how to relax between performances. Moxxi leaned back against the crate with her legs stretched out. She had her tote already closed and the strap across her body under the cape. Everything about her was ready to move in an instance. She would rest because once she started moving, there would be no time to slow down.

  In another store area, Moxxi could hear someone open a grill and come down to get something. It must have been about thirty feet away, and there were so many dusty stacks between them, Moxxi just sat still and waited for silence.

  Deciding that enough time had passed for the most patient stalker, Moxxi stepped back up on a couple of stairs to the grill. Looking through the fancy design, she couldn't see anyone nearby, so she pushed the grill quietly upward. It swung on its hinge and let her slowly rise, watching in all directions. Evidently, she had chosen the right place, as no one was around this end of the tee-shaped long counter.

  Using her ion tool to wipe away all traces of where she had touched the grill and floor, she rose and walked around the counter. Walking down to the older man behind the counter, she picked up a small pack of cards and held them out to him.

  "Trade?" Moxxi asked as she pulled out the can of black dye. It was common anywhere to trade items. It was even encouraged in some areas to avoid taxes. The man took the can of dye and checked it to see how much remained and then nodded.

  "Sure."

  "Thanks, uh, where are the public bathrooms?"

  Tucking the can of dye under the counter, the man looked over at the back of the market. "There's a couple at the back."

  Nodding, Moxxi turned and walked back to a place that was now under a couple of cameras. This would be the first time that the archives saw the new Moxxi of Solitude.

  The public bathrooms were clean and without any smell since reclaim was important on this satellite. There was a couple of tiny cleaning bots scurrying over a wall and on the floor. Moxxi did need to use the facilities, as her body was ready to be a natural human.

  One of her disguise parts was to keep her big soft full tote hanging in front of her stomach. With the cape on, it made her look a little heavier or perhaps pregnant. Now she came out of the public rooms and got into a group of people moving in her preferred direction. She needed to get to the docks and onto a ship going anywhere.

  There were always crowds on the main shopping hallways on Solitude. All Moxxi had to do was get into those carrying cases and totes that suggested they were tourists or crew going to the docks and ships. Walking along, she passed up the first elevator and jumped into the second one full of people with bags full of gifts and tourist junk. There were also two people—a man, and woman, dressed in plain jumpsuits and had plain totes with some ship's name initialed on them.

  Yep, this was the group she needed. Squirming around in the close quarters, Moxxi pushed back her cape over one shoulder and shifted her tote to the side. Now she looked like the rest of the group on the elevator.

  The crewman reached over the shoulder of a woman in front and pushed some of the glowing numbers and put in a code.

  "Now we will go directly down and don't have to stop for each floor. After all, we are full, and we don't want to apologize to anyone." To the man's words, there was a small amount of applause.

  Report: Asset is under control. I am arranging for her to leave Solitude. Details to follow.

  It was a long ride down; after all, Solitude was probably one of the largest floating human-made space stations in civilized existence. That also meant that the docking area was immense, as there were so many ships that came and went through this area. It got even worse, as there were three different places on opposite sides of the oddly shaped object where ships could dock.

  There was one area reserved for freighters that were loading and unloading items. But ships carrying travelers or small orders and individual crates could tie up at any of the other two sites.

  Moxxi didn't care where she ended up since she only needed off Solitude. She was willing to hire on as crew, buy a spot as a passenger, or become a stowaway.

  What did you look for when you were desperate? Moxxi had played this game before. Walking down the high-railed passageway at a fast pace as if she knew exactly where she was going, she was looking at the nose and side entrances of each ship.

  This was a long walk, as no matter how small a spaceship, just by their nature, they were big. That meant that each dock let the strangely-shipped ships in at a slight angle. There was the front of the ship and a side for an airlock and sometimes a couple of locks.

  What she was seeing were pointed noses of fast ships, boxed fronts of bigger fast passenger carriers. Finally, all the rest could be any shape from round, square, bubbles, one piece in front of another piece, no front on a big body, and anything that someone could get to hold air and travel in space. Sometimes the really big odd ones had to be sent over to the freighter dock area that could handle any size and shape.

  In the next group of tie-downs, Moxxi found what she was looking for, tramp ships. There were five or six of these poor babies, set apart as if their dinted and rusted odd shapes and small sizes would rub off on the others, so they were kept apart.

  She soon found herself on the cold, busy work floor of the ships’ entries section going down the inside steps. Now to choose a desperate ship, but this group all needed some repairs or maybe just a coat of paint.

  Moving over, Moxxi joined some crew that looked like they were heading for the next ship.

  "Do you guys take on passengers?"

  One woman looked over and laughed. "Yeah, when we run short of food." They pushed each other, and then a younger one looked at her.

  He pointed to a ship a couple of rows down. "Try BoseIn Lines. They sometimes take on riders."

  Again there was rough shoving among the group, and Moxxi realized the small group was mostly drunk. They must be returning from leave. She smiled and moved on faster to get past the next docks. Unfortunately, she found herself interrupted again. It had to be another two guys returning from too much fun.

  One man had the arm of another over his shoulder, and he was dragging the guy with difficulty. Looking around, she could see that the other crew had already turned off to their ship. Basically, this guy was alone with his drunk or an injured friend.

  "Can I help?" Moxxi looked at the pair and saw the ship suits with the unreadable badges.

  "This idiot got drunk and then into a fight. I need to get him into the med doc on board our ship before they leave, or we will be stranded." With this, he mumbled some words he didn't want her to hear.

  Stepping closer and swinging her tote to the other side, she spoke to the man. "Which ship are you heading towards?"

  "We belong to the BI. It
is right up here and will soon undock. We're late due to this drunk and his stupid mistakes."

  "Look, here. Let me help. I'm stronger than I look." Moxxi smiled up at the guy as she grabbed the hanging arm of the man who was out of it and put it over her shoulder.

  The two of them did get the drunk moving a little better. Now Moxxi took the advantage to introduce herself and ask her important question.

  "I am Traci, and I need to buy a ride off. Someone told me your ship sometimes takes riders. Can you help me?" Using a name she had additional papers on in her wrist ID, she still assisted in dragging the injured crewman.

  Report: Asset is under control. I have arranged for her transportation off the satellite. Details to follow.

  "No riders on this trip. But we could use some help in a mess."

  They were almost to the ramp, and there was only one man in the shadows up in the airlock of the ship.

  "I don't mind a little work. I can handle cooking or even taking care of dirty dishes. Can you put in a word for me?"

  The guy stopped suddenly and threw Moxxi off her stride. She went with the surprise and hung onto their burden. At this point, he spoke to her in a low voice.

  "Look, I'm Harv. Just go along with what I say, and you will have a ride."

  Harv started up the ramp, and she struggled with him, their friend between them with his head hanging down on his chest. The big guy at the top of the ramp moved over to let them into the standard airlock space as he looked over past his pad.

  "What the fuck is this?" He didn't indicate anything, so the three of them just stood as Harv looked over at the man.

  "Gome got drunk and got into a fight and hurt. We would have been late or missed the release if Traci hadn't been there. She's our new mess aide. She could have gone on ahead to meet everyone but was kind enough to stay behind to help me with this drunken idiot."

  The big guy frowned down at his pad. "Well, being late on your first day isn't a good sign. Harv, get that asshole out of my sight and into the med doc, so maybe he will be some help when he sobers up. I'm docking his pay until the med doc tells me what is wrong with him." He looked up from the pad and shook his head.

  "Well, what are you waiting on? We are about to get underway. Get out of my sight."

  With that, Harv began to lead the way, dragging Gome and letting Traci still help as they moved into the ship's narrow aisle. All ships either had very narrow halls or just open spaces. Hallways were a waste of space and needed to be kept to a minimum. Often, depending on the design, spacers just walked through areas like mess rooms and storage areas. But bunkrooms and officer's quarters had to be closed off, so there were hallways, narrow ones that made it awkward to even carry boxes or cartons. It also made it difficult to haul an injured drunk to the medical sector.

  This space also was closed off, but the door had a sensor that opened automatically as Harv leaned in and went ahead into the clean, sterile chamber. For an old beat-up ship, the medical accommodations were up to date.

  There was more room here, and Traci could move around to help Harv put the injured drunk into the med doc. The machine closed around the man, even in his clothes and boots. Within seconds it began to hum.

  "Well, let's hope the doc can fix him up quickly, or the Cap will dump him at our next stop." Harv turned, and there was a general beep, and the orange light came on.

  "Oh, we are leaving. This ship will undock with no problems. We won't have to do anything since you still have your tote with you. Come on, and I will show you where we bunk."

  It was back into the narrow hallway, her on Harv's heels as he began to point out areas on the ship. This way to the bridge, that way to the officer's area, here at the first door is the joint cleansing closet, only a one-minute shower once a day.

  The next two doors were for general bunkrooms, and he led her into the second. "The three on the other end are open so that you can take your pick."

  Moxxi, as Traci, smiled and went over to choose the open bottom bunk. She had worked on a ship before and knew that male and female bunkrooms were shared and that water and liquids were important on ships. That meant short showers and that all things were reclaimed.

  The generously sized bunk was a built-in long box with the front side open and had a curtain that could be pulled closed. There were storage cartons on end—three high as there were three bunks in the stack on each side. There was a foot and hand grab on each side to allow the top person to get up easily.

  Opening the bottom storage box to put her tote away, she found clean bedding. Pulling everything out and setting the pile on the bunk, she put her tote in and set a code on the small door to protect her items. She was now home for the time the ship was in space.

  Chapter Four

  Traci picked up a dirty pan from the heating element's side and reached over to stir some soup in a large pot. The cook, who was called Cook, nodded at her in thanks and continued to bring something from the fresher.

  Putting the dirty pan inside the quick clean unit, Traci waited for a second and then pulled it back out so that she could put it away. The ship had been underway for two weeks, and she had helped Cook through thirty meals. A week for ten standard days, no one could remember when or who had established those days.

  There were many times and limits that have been established that are used so that there is some conformity to travel and man-built satellites and even some worlds. No one can confirm when it began or what it was built upon, but it did seem to be more comfortable to the human body.

  A year is broken up into twelve, and one of those periods is divided by four on a Galactic-Sol calendar in today's many systems. Then it all gets smaller into time units that everyone has just accepted.

  For the four divided periods called weeks on the old calendars and interpreted in many languages, Traci made herself useful to Cook and found friends on this ship. She avoided the officers of which there were only two and did small things for the others of which there were only six, including her and Cook. It was a small ship with a small crew.

  It wasn't hard to think about the time or the days of the weeks, as one went from place to place in ships out in the colonized worlds. Traci soon found out that one place might have a different internal change due to its world's movement, but it still used the Galactic-Sol calendar when dealing with offworlders and doing business.

  The BoseIn Lines ship had made one quick stop at a moon to drop off some crates. Traci stayed in her bunk with the curtain drawn. The name BoseIn Lines was a misleading title for the ship, as it was the only one owned jointly by the Captain and his brother, who was still at a distant home.

  The Captain proved to be as distant and grumpy as the XO, who was the man who Traci met when she first entered the ship. She only saw them at meals, and they never acknowledged her or Cook. Cook just warned her to make sure they had lots of coffee, and he took care of getting their food in front of them.

  It wasn't hard work, and she had lots of downtimes when the cleaning was done. This allowed her to go back to the large storage areas where there was a certain section. Either the Captain had allowed some mats to be laid down, or he didn't know about the workout area for the crew. So far, Traci had taken turns at different times on the mats and never seen the officers behind the mess area.

  She had learned early that at another time and place, she was to wear loose clothes when she worked out with others. Her movements and body drew advancements from all types if they could see her curves. Moxxi/Traci thought some women had more voluptuous bodies, it had to be how she moved. It was what she had inherited, so she kept her exercise movements in sharp military warm-up sessions.

  Friends had developed strangely in her short term on the ship. One was the Cook, who soon was grateful to have a helper that helped. The other was a surprise. It was Gome. Someone had told him that Traci had helped get him on board in time and into the med doc. Gome also had a set-to with Harv, who wouldn't take no from Traci.

  Harv was one
of those guys that assumed that Traci found him irresistible since he told everyone who would listen that she picked him up on the dock area of Solitude. The first time she had gone to the workout area, she heard about his version of what happened on the docks. Harv had followed her and kept bumping into her as she moved around.

  Doing a quick turn, she let her foot hit his belly, and he went down. He came up yelling, with hands drawn into fists. Gome stepped in and popped him one on the chin. Harv went down, but when he looked up at Gome, he waved off and just grinned.

  "Hey buddy, sorry. My bad." Harv stood and wandered off with a lot of eyes following him. Gome looked around to find Traci.

  "Sorry, he can be a jerk at times."

  "No problem. Thanks." Traci smiled and turned to move back into her arm strikes. Gome stepped back and, shaking his head, found another place to begin some jumps and reaches. After that, Traci began to make sure that Gome found extra dessert on his bunk now and then.

  Traveling and working on the BoseIn Lines was good, but unfortunately, it ended too soon. As Cook and Traci were serving a midday meal, the talk was not about the next stop at a planet but the following home stop and a stay of several months.

  The news meant that a couple of the crew from the ship's home planet would be getting off at the next stop with a small bonus. Of course, that meant Traci would leave the ship and look for a new or a different ride. She did have funds in several hidden accounts, and one of them was under the name of Traci Cen, with another in the name of Moxxi Tycen.

  Thinking about the problem, as she cleaned up after the meal, she didn't want to use the name of Moxxi after the warning note on Solitude. Someone or more than one knew her by that moniker. But with the daily funds and the bonus, Traci should have enough to last while deciding on wherever they were landing.

  Life was never without surprises when traveling in the deep dark. After the last meal was over; Traci, Gome, and a couple of other crew were heading for the mats. This time it was not for exercise but to sit down and play a game. Their walk was interrupted with a loud beep and then an announcement from the XO.