They did a wary half circle, not quite a dance, as if they both wanted to make a break for the door but didn’t want to look like they were running away.
“I like this ship,” she said stubbornly. “I won’t be going anywhere.”
“Felicity, I’m telling you there’s something wrong here—”
“Just a fluctuation, you said.” She took another shaky breath, the humid air of the atmo-hall suddenly oppressive. “Maybeyoucan hop another ship to another star, but this is my chance. And that’s what the IDA promised with this cruise: a chance to find who they’re looking for.”
Before he could say anything else—before her tongue did anything else to get her in trouble—she whirled and strode from the hall.
She didn’t pause until she was on the other side of the door, where the sudden change in the air felt thin and cold. There, she sagged back against the bulkhead. But she didn’t want him to find her there, looking weak and hesitant. Not when she’d worked so hard to get here.
Thrusting away from the wall with her jaw set, she checked her datpad. The ship’s public monitors showed the passengers hunting for the tokens, coming together as part of the game or calling out to each other as they passed. From the level of ambient noise, a good time was being had by all. Or most, anyway; Remy was standing alone at the viewport in the Starlit Salon.
Felicity wrinkled her nose at the reminder—as if she needed it—that not everyone would find a date or a mate. No matter what she’d told the captain or what the IDA brochures claimed, some connections just weren’t fated in this particular spacetime.
The musky spice of alien lion-man clinging to her might haunt her for a bit, but the possibility of a relationship with Ellix was about as real as Mr. Evens’ ghost.
Speaking of time and space, the chronometer showed the third sunset coming up soon, so she needed to start recalling the passengers.
Reflexively, she checked her bun. Oops, the tidy twist had slipped, but she slicked it back (while refusing to remember strong fingers in her hair) and smoothed down her uniform (while refusing to regret that strong fingers hadn’t roamed farther…) before hustling back to the salon.
Ikaryo had judiciously used the opportunity to reset his bar and added the trio of old-fashioned disco balls she’d fabricated during one of her middle-of-the-night panic attacks after she’d gotten this gig. A moment of wistfulness made her sigh. How fun would it be to walk in wide-eyed, to not always be the one setting it up. But this was her job.
She sent an announcement tone through everyone’s devices, summoning them back to the salon, and stationed herself at the doorway.
Through her datpad, she listened to the excited chatter and good-natured ribbing as the guests took one last chance to match and swap tokens. She quickly took notes on who had teamed up, who was standing with whom, the way certain connections seemed to be strengthening. As the last guests streamed through the door, she basked in the sound of their happiness.
She was beaming when she entered the salon, her heart feeling as light as the blazing ball of hydrogen and helium shining through the viewport. “Did you find all the tokens?” she called out. “Are you ready to claim your prizes?”
An enthusiastic cheer made her grin. “Yes, I know that the real prize is the friends—and maybe more—we make along theway. But free gifts from some of the most romantic brands in the galaxies are also nice.” Another cheer. “Let’s get started…”
On a banquet table in front of the viewport, Ikaryo had arrayed the prizes, all of them meant to induce happiness about the journey. As Felicity turned to the crowd, readying her MC patter, a shadow moved across the attentive faces.
She blinked. They shouldn’t be to the third sunset just yet. She’d set the schedule so there’d be time for everyone to have prizes in hand along with another drink and hopefully whoever they’d felt the most connection with. Although that added up to three hands, but whatever. If Captain Never-Smiles had sped up the ship to get through the evening…
Even as she thought it, she spun around, knowing he wouldn’t do that, and the sun should’ve been still shining through the viewport.
It wasn’t the moon eclipsing the light. There was a strange shadow moving over the transparent plasteel.
The crowd was silent, obviously puzzled by the unsettling visual, as something like vining, smoky tendrils spread across the screen.
For a confused moment, Felicity thought the strange shadow was on the outside of the ship, then her eyes told her it was inside the salon, with them. But finally, she decided it was moving within the viewport itself. She had a vague sense of how the viewport worked as half window, half screen, adjusting for rays of light as needed.
Was it malfunctioning? That would make the final sunset less beautiful…
The ship jolted, hard.
Gravity failed, just long enough to confuse all her internal organs before she bumped down to her heels again. Several people staggered, a few fell into their neighbors, who reached out to steady them, many of them linking arms andother appendages against the unsteadiness—and the sudden unknown.
The shadow in the viewport screen writhed as if equally distraught.
Her datpad pinged with the sound for a private comm, and she quickly inserted the detachable ear piece. “Captain?”
“Felicity.” Ellix’s voice was urgent. “Griiek caught an energy surge in the salon, but monitors aren’t picking up anything.”
“I see it—something,” she told him quietly, knowing the tech would carry and enhance her subvocal words. “I don’t want to scare anyone here, but we lost gravity for a moment too.”
He let out a string of words that her translator couldn’t decipher. “This cruise is over. Please have all passengers report to the lifepods off the main hatch for the duration of the trip.”
