Wreck of the Nebula Dream (5 page)

There was a lifeguard tower in the center of the beach area, but Nick remembered he hadn’t seen any actual SMT employees on duty when he strolled onto the sand.

Suddenly, the woman broke off her argument with the ‘Lites, who scampered away, fleeing to their own party. Panicky, wide-eyed, she called out something Nick couldn’t hear and waded into the water up to her knees.

Swearing under his breath, Nick stepped up his pace.

Trying to help his mother, the boy pointed excitedly at the water. He ran to the edge of the waves, grabbing the big teddy bear his sister had been carrying on the shuttle.

Now Nick was stroking full speed, convinced the toddler had indeed ventured into the water. As soon as he was in close enough, he stood, searching for any sign of the child. She’d been wearing a vivid green one-piece playsuit; he vaguely remembered noting it as he passed them on his way into the water.

A flicker of color off to the left caught his eye. It took Nick less than thirty seconds to reach the limp toddler, floating unconscious in the gentle waves. The playsuit had evidently been designed to provide some flotation support, but she must have swallowed too much water, or breathed it in.

Nick carried her to the beach in three rapid strides, laying her gently on the damp sand, just above the waterline. “Call the Ship for help,” he yelled as the mother and boy ran toward him. Afraid to waste time waiting for a med team and their equipment, which could dry her lungs in seconds, he commenced the old-fashioned mouth-to-mouth resuscitation techniques.
The child might not have time to wait.

Nick was peripherally aware of the ‘Lites crowding around him, drawn by the excitement of it all. The mother was on her knees next to him, weeping and getting in his way, trying to hug the child while Nick worked over her. One of the Inner Sector girls came and knelt beside the distraught woman, pulling her away from the toddler.

“Give the man room, mamma,” she urged in the artificially high, sweet voice the ‘Lites used, but at least she alone of all of them was doing something useful.

Suddenly the child coughed violently. Just in time, Nick moved out of the way as she retched up an amazing quantity of water. Turning her over, he patted her back. She cried loudly, calling pitifully for her mother, who broke away from the Socialite and gathered up her child, both weeping copiously.

“Med team!” shouted an officious voice. “Med team! Make way, clear out, we’ll take over now, sir.”

Pushed out of the way by the zealous
Nebula Dream
medics, he allowed himself to be replaced, keeping a watchful eye for a minute, and then, deciding they were annoying but competent, he went to pick up his things further down the beach and leave.

The Socialite girl who’d been comforting the mother was in his way. “Nice job, man.” Resting a be-ringed hand on his arm and tilting her head, she gave him a coy smile. “Just like yesterday, on the shuttle; you move quick. Never saw anything like it. ‘Cept on the adventure vids, you know? Exciting.”

“Yeah, well, thanks for keeping the mother out of the way.”
If your crowd of ‘Lites hadn’t been so careless with the running game, the mother wouldn’t have been distracted and the child probably wouldn’t have had a close call at all.
This girl had at least tried to be useful, so he held his criticism in abeyance.

“Yeah, it was like we were a team there, man,” the girl went on, in her artificially dreamy, lilting voice. “Name’s Twilka, Twilka Zabour. Never did nothing like this before, man.”

“Nick Jameson.” He pulled his arm free of her grasp, not rudely, but firmly. Up close, she was surprisingly older than he’d assumed, but even so, not his type. He did have to admit, her multicolored, totally impractical crocheted bikini fit her slender curves amazingly well. “Nice to meet you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m late,” he said.

“Yeah, man, sure, late, I know.” Twilka didn’t show much surprise about his obvious eagerness to get away. She shrugged and strolled over to her group, standing in a clump, giggling and laughing as usual, watching the med team. Several of the young men were wrestling, trying to throw each other to the sand. It seemed the novelty of the near-drowning and rescue was wearing off fast for the jaded crowd.
 

Everything loses its edge for them in a short time.
Nick yanked his sweatpants on over his swimsuit, grabbed up his towel and left the beach as fast as he could, not wanting to be further involved with any of them.

He spent the rest of the afternoon in his cabin, trying to think rationally about the career choices he was going to face once he reached Sector Hub and reported in. The prospects were so depressing he was tempted to indulge in another round of either brandy or vodka – not both. Tiring of indulgent self-pity, which wasn’t his normal style, he engaged the accommodating AI in an old-fashioned game of Terran holographic chess instead.
 

After sampling a disappointing room service evening snack and finding it cold, even slightly frozen in spots, Nick donned his new, expensive black and gold dress uniform and ventured out to the Casino Level. Retro only went so far on the
Nebula Dream
. When it came to winning the passengers’ credits away from them, SMT was all business, with only superficial lip service to establishing mood. The casino occupied two-thirds of Level A, and had table after table, holo booth after holo booth, of all the most modern games of chance, as well as some of the traditional ancient varieties. There were even some requiring humans to physically deal cards or game pieces for the players, Nick noted, something he’d only seen in adventure vids. The overall atmosphere was noisy, bordering on raucous. Drinks were on the house, unceasingly offered by scantily clad attendants.

SMT evidently wants to be sure its guests have no unsatisfied desires.

Taking a small glass of Taychelle vodka, more to keep from being pestered by the overly attentive servers than because he was thirsty, Nick wandered through the casino, sticking to the periphery of the noisy, colorful expanse, observing. He risked a few of the bonus credits on the roulette wheel, playing black in deference to his mood. Allowing the credits to ride for a few spins, he called it quits after doubling his small bet. Walking onward, he heard a loud burst of laughter and realized his earlier question about the proprieties for the D’nvannae where gambling was concerned had been a waste of time.

The Brother was the center of a large crowd of excited gamblers, playing some game of chance unfamiliar to Nick. It would appear the Brother was winning, and so were more than a few people in the group, betting with him. Half the crowd was ‘Lites. In fact, the girl who had more or less helped Nick earlier in the afternoon –
what was her name? Twilka Something
– was among the laughing cluster. Catching sight of Nick, she waved her glass in invitation to join them.

Well, why not? It’s not as if I’m doing anything more important
. Walking across the casino, he studied Twilka, who’d been drawn back to the action at the gaming table.

She was wearing a beaded, red, purple and orange striped skirt ending after about ten inches, with a thick layer of gold and red fringe extending a few more inches, providing a dubious nod to modesty. Randomly patterned red and orange tights covered her long legs, made even more shapely by the purple, four-inch stiletto heels she had on. This outfit was topped off with a big, plain white shirt, carelessly misbuttoned to reveal flashes of a skimpy red beaded halter. Her short black hair was slicked down and swept to the side. Her female companions were similarly garbed. The men wore tight, black, beaded pants and the big white shirts.

They’re as much in uniform as I am, only they undoubtedly wouldn’t see it.

Shaking his head, changing his mind as abruptly as he’d accepted Twilka’s unspoken invitation in the first place, Nick put his glass on a passing server’s tray and walked on, not caring if she noticed. It was quieter in the next quadrant of the casino, with individual games of chance. These were more passive, players pushing large, brightly colored buttons before holograms whirled. If five matching holograms ended the dance together, then chimes sounded and golden casino credits rained from thin air for the lucky gambler to catch.

Nick stopped his restless progress, having found the quarry he was unconsciously searching for. The businesswoman from the shuttle was playing one of the machines and appeared to be having quite a bit of luck, judging by the pile of golden credits in the tray. Nick walked over to the machine next to hers and began playing.

“That one’s cold, Captain,” she said, not breaking her concentration on the whirling holograms.

“I beg your pardon?” Not expecting her to make the first move, he’d been racking his brain what to say.
Ballsy, takes the initiative all right – I like it.

Tilting her head, she gave him the radiant smile that had caught his attention on the shuttle, when she was playing with the children. “I said, it’s cold. Wasted most of my free credits there first, before I moved over one machine.” A slight frown creased her high forehead as he remained silent. Eyes narrowed, she studied him more closely. “You are the man from the shuttle yesterday afternoon, aren’t you? The one who saved that poor woman’s life?”

“Yes, I’m Nick Jameson, Special Forces.” Nick swore at himself.
Something about this woman reduced him to tongue-tied stammering
. Taking a calming breath, he referred to her comments about the events on the shuttle. “I don’t know about saving the lady’s life, though.” He rejected any claim to heroism, with his customary modest honesty. “Her dagger wasn’t exactly a serious weapon. I was more concerned she’d get the hatch door open somehow. You’re –”

“Well, I thought you were incredibly brave,” she answered with a smile. Tossing her beautiful hair, which tonight was a luxurious cascade of curls held off the perfect oval of her face by a blue band matching her evening gown, she extended a shapely hand. “I’m Mara Lyrae.”

They shook hands, Nick taking note that she wore no rings, although in this day and age, that didn’t necessarily mean anything about a person’s availability. It was encouraging, considering she’d remembered him from the shuttle. She had a firm, no-nonsense handshake.

The next minute he realized with a pang of dismay she was opening her embroidered evening purse.
 

Please don’t let her hand me a business card, brush me off.

But instead Mara was gathering up her credits, sweeping them into the elaborate purse, obviously preparing to leave. “Here, you can take over this machine, if you’d like,” was her only offer. She slid off her stool, smoothing the folds of her closely fitted evening gown. It was low cut but elegant, leaving her glowingly tanned shoulders bare.

 
Neither the dress nor the woman needs any further embellishment.

 
“Well, I’m not actually much of a gambler,” Nick said, glancing briefly, with no pretense of interest, at the slot machine she was vacating. “I was thinking it might be nice to go grab a bite to eat, some dinner? Would you care to –?”

“Oh, I am sorry,” she said, so sweetly he almost believed she was actually regretful, rather than merely polite. “I already have an engagement for the evening, Captain. Some other time?”

“Yeah, well, whatever. I’ll – I’ll call you.”

“Please do. I might be free in a few days,” she invited over her shoulder, with one last smile, as she stepped off into the crowd. “Good evening and good luck! It’s a hot machine, I promise – or at least it has been for the last hour.”

“Oh, well, thank you.” Nick wasn’t a fan of losing credits to holo slots, but he didn’t want to offend her. He inserted one of his casino tokens in the slot, opened his mouth to say something further to her, but she’d already gone, hidden by the crowd. Her perfume lingered subtly behind, crisp, like her – faintly spicy and with a hint of some sultry floral tone.
More memorable than any other woman I’ve ever met
. The machine went cold with her departure, taking all he’d won at roulette and then more.
 

Disgusted, Nick stopped feeding it. He was bored with the casino, but not yet ready to slink back to his cabin and face a whole other kind of total boredom. After the encounter with Mara Lyrae, he felt even less inclined than he had been earlier to try to locate the attendant, Helene, and see if she was free for the evening. While he was debating what to do next if he was ruling out female companionship for tonight and didn’t want to gamble, Nick strolled past the border of the holo slots room. Beyond the rows of brightly lit gaming devices, he found a small sign giving directions to the observatory.

Intrigued, Nick decided to explore, following a narrow corridor, then up a winding staircase, all metal and wood anachronism.
Wherever else SMT might have cut corners or scrimped on costs, they certainly have been lavish with the elements of the retro decor, at least on this level of the ship
. As he climbed the last risers of the staircase, Nick stopped short. He was rarely astonished by anything after all his years in the service, but the builders of the
Nebula Dream
had created a breathtaking illusion that, on this wooden deck, one was standing completely exposed to the starry heavens.

Slowly, Nick came up the final five stairs and walked away from the elaborate wrought iron guardrail, staring at blazing constellations of stars.

“Amazing, is it not?” came a woman’s voice from the far side of the observatory. The tone was husky, faintly amused.