In the Black, Page 3

  I hope.

  “Right. I’ll be back to turn the gravity on and set up the chairs. Got to make sure the Guild records the exact moment so no one in accounting gets pissy about swallowing the extra charge for full gravity. Sort of a necessary evil—don’t want the customers floating around with their boxes of sex toys.” Jenny opened up a hatch near her feet, leading to the Belle’s underworld. The narrow passages ran the length of the ship, allowing her access to the many systems that kept the Belle running. The access hatches were everywhere, over their heads and under their feet, set into the walls.

  Everywhere but the private quarters.

  Sam only knew of them from talking with Jenny; she’d never dared to go down the slender tunnels herself for fear of getting lost or worse, stuck. She hadn’t put on much weight since mustering out and kept to a strict workout routine, but getting wedged into one of the shafts would be impossible to live down.

  Besides, it wasn’t her job—Belle communicated directly with Jenny if and when there was something wrong, and the mechanic would act as the AI’s hands, fixing the ship and keeping her in full running order.

  “When we open the front door I’ll keep out of the way as usual. If you need me just call.” Jenny began to climb down into the darkness, the torture shoes bundled in the leather jumpsuit and tucked under one arm.

  The small grill slid shut behind the mechanic, leaving Sam alone.

  Sam swam to the hallway hatch, moving further inside the Belle. She went inside and grabbed hold of one of the nylon straps set in the walls to pull herself along the corridor. The method of travel wasn’t unfamiliar to her but having to do a sales presentation for high-priced prostitutes was.

  For the past six months, she’d been learning on the job.

  Being a ground pounder had provided woefully thin experience on how to run a space brothel.

  She swam past the numbered doors of the courtesans’ quarters. Despite what she’d said outside, most of the men and women were there for sex—good, healthy sex with no questions asked and all fantasies delivered in confidentiality. If you were willing to pay for it, you’d find someone to give it to you, courtesy of the Mercy ships and their trained professionals. There was nothing too shocking to ask of a Mercy man or woman.

  As long as you could pay for it.

  One more hatch and she’d be at the center of the ship, the galley that served as the social hub for the courtesans.

  No clients came up here. This was Guild territory and neutral ground, a must when dealing with the strong personalities on board.

  Sam pulled the hatch open by jerking hard on the handle. One of the first things she’d learnt about the Belle was that everything had to be earned.

  Kendra spotted her in the doorway and gave a welcoming nod. The courtesan plucked a plastic fork from one of the boxes mounted on the wall and twirled it in Sam’s direction. It flew end over end toward her, a slow-motion cutlery film-clip.

  For a bunch who counted every calorie and ounce that entered their bodies, they could sure put away the food. Sam scratched the tip of her nose to hide a grin. She, on the other hand, had no such reservations about stuffing her face. If she was lucky, the damned jumpsuit would never fit again and she’d have to resort to her old uniform when she did the presentations. The Guild wouldn’t be happy, but she could sell their services wearing a burlap sack.

  It wasn’t the wrapping the customers wanted—it was the contents.

  Sam caught the fork with one hand and reached for a strap to stop her forward motion with the other. She surveyed the gathering. Everyone was present except for Dane.

  It didn’t surprise her.

  Dane had shown himself to be a bit of an asshole from the minute she’d stepped on board and he’d offered her his services at double the going rate “because you deserve the best and I know you can pay for it.”

  Not that he was the only jerk on board. Attitudes came in ample supply on the Belle.

  Kendra, the self-appointed mother hen for the group, tapped the screen set in one wall. “We’re filling up with reservations.” The electronic timesheet flared different colors, one for each worker, expanding every few seconds with a new update. “Looking good. You must have really stirred the pot.” She pushed back a wayward strand of blond hair, twisting it behind one ear. “Don’t remember it being so busy for the last few stops.”

  It was a welcome compliment but Sam kept her smile hidden, just nodding in response.

  Kendra had come with the Belle, one of the original contracts from long before Sam entered the picture. She had to be in her late thirties, easily, but no one ever asked her real age and Sam didn’t have the nerve to check out her official details. What she did know about Kendra was that the woman tolerated no fools on the Belle, including the captain, ruling her domain with a sharp wit and a tongue to match. What Kendra said carried volumes, and she didn’t speak unless she had something to say.

  Sam inched her way along, using the smaller straps set in the wall to maneuver toward the circular net in the middle of the small room. The various chunks of sliced fruit hovered inside, kept safe from wandering by the thin plastic netting. She slipped the fork through one of the “portholes” and speared a thick piece of cantaloupe, dipping it in a circular blob of juice on the way out. She pulled it free through one of the holes.

  “I did the usual spiel, nothing special. Same old, same old. Maybe it was the different portfolios, made more of an impression. You all gave me some great material to show off.”

  It was the same at every stop, every desolate rock on the cycle. And every time made her feel a little bit emptier and a bit more frustrated as she herded the cattle to the slaughterhouse. She’d chosen her penance and died a bit every landfall. Just like she’d planned. “By the way, I handed out my token to an old-timer. Whoever gets him, be kind. I think he’s had a rough time of it.”

  The cantaloupe was juicy and fresh. It was a mystery where Kendra got such fresh fruit, considering they’d left the Guild base months ago and had only been visiting mining bases where freeze-dried and dehydrated was the rule. Sam was no virgin to the black market but Kendra had connections she’d never heard of.

  She wasn’t going to ask and risk not getting fruit.

  Halley snorted, her long red hair spiraling out around her head. “Those tokens are bad for business. Two hundred creds and they never pay for anything extra, never leave a tip.” She was younger than Sam, maybe in her early twenties.

  Sam stared at her, unblinking. A few seconds later Halley looked away.

  It was good to see she could still put the fear of God into someone.

  Annoying thing was Halley had a point.

  Courtesans lived and died on tips, like many in the service industry. Out of the two hundred credits they earned per hour per appointment, a good chunk would go right back into the Guild’s pocket in the way of payment for the room and paying off the training the courtesan had received in his or her specialty.

  Tips were off the books and helped a courtesan pay off the contract faster or allowed her to retire in style after the five years were up. If you were good at your job you could cash out early and head to Earth to live in relative luxury or settle on a colony who welcomed ex-courtesans.

  If you weren’t good you ended up on a Charity ship, in debt to the Guild and working that debt off for the rest of your life or until the Guild dumped you.

  Kendra coughed, showing her approval of the silent smackdown.

  Sam pointed her fork at the ceiling. “It’s Guild-approved. Besides, it’s no good for business when you’ve got someone badmouthing our presence before we even get started. Don’t need the hassle.”

  Kendra nodded, a piece of pineapple approaching her mouth. “We got enough things to keep us busy, we don’t need any controversy.” She glanced at Halley. “Toss him my w
ay if you don’t want to take ’im. I like the older ones.” A smile showed off dazzling white teeth. “They like to cuddle.”

  April laughed, moving her hand to cover her mouth. She could take out a half-dozen men without breaking a sweat but still hid her expressions of emotion.

  Halley scowled at the pair before going back for more fruit.

  Kendra glanced over at Sean, the old man of the crew who was floating above a counter, his legs swinging free in the zero gravity. “Where’s your friend?” Kendra’s tone showed she thought as much of Dane as Sam did.

  “He’s not my friend,” Sean replied. Sam wasn’t sure if his Irish accent was natural or put on but it never failed to sound sexy—and added to his appeal. “He’s a bloody pain in the ass.” He jerked a thumb behind them at the door Sam had come through. “He’s doing his pre-appointment workouts. You know, where he stands and stares at himself in the mirror, flexing every which way he can.”

  Kendra laughed. “And you don’t do the same? I’ve caught you working on those love handles.”

  Sean pulled up his black T-shirt and patted the offending bulges. “More for the ladies to hold on to, sweetness.” He smirked. “I’ve had no complaints.”

  Most Mercy ships didn’t have any men aboard at all, much less two. But the Belle was different. She tried to cater to all the workers out on the Rim, and with women making up close to a quarter of the staff on the bases they were scheduled to visit, it made good business sense.

  The hatch opened as if on cue.

  “My ears were burning. Who was bitching ’bout me?” Dane floated into the galley, his blond hair slick under the fluorescent lights. “At least I have the courtesy to shower before my customers arrive.” The pale grey sweat pants hung loose around his waist and his bare skin looked freshly oiled.

  “Cut yourself shaving?” Halley pointed at a slender band of white bandage peeking out around one ankle. “Told you to stop using those butter knives.”

  “Ha ha.” Dane reached for a fork and pulled himself up to the buffet. “At least I shave.” He glared at her. “Everywhere.”

  Sam nibbled on a small piece of banana. Same old, same old. It was like babysitting a group of cranky kids.

  “Sam did a great presentation,” Kendra said, killing the argument before it had a chance to get started. “She also gave out a token, so be on the lookout for it.”

  Dane frowned. “A token? What’s up with that, Captain?” He drew out the last word to three syllables, adding a foreign accent. “Since when did you start being so generous?”

  Sam didn’t rise to the bait. Better men than he had tried and failed. “It was my right. And considering it’s the first I’ve given out this tour I don’t think it’s a big thing. I do expect all of you to honor it and deliver your best when it comes in.” Sam paused, waiting to deliver the final blow. “The Guild, after all, keeps track of such things.”

  Dane flinched and she saw her comment strike home. The Guild was mother and father out here and they all knew it. One word from Grendel and they could be cut loose from their contracts, shipped to a nearby way station without any notice and dumped there without much more than the clothes on their backs and whatever meager savings they had after paying their debts to the Guild.

  There were always others ready to take their place.

  “Of course everyone will do their best for whoever turns it in.” Kendra added her support. “Everyone.” Her tone left no room for discussion.

  Halley sniffed and twirled her empty fork between her fingers. “I’m just saying that it’s lost money. Every credit we give away is a credit lost. If we can’t get them to spend more money on the extras, we’re barely going to break even at the end of the day.”

  Bianca giggled. Her dark brown hair was pulled back tight into a bun with nary a hair out of place. “It’s okay, Halley. We can afford to lose a few creds here and there, especially if it helps keep the peace. We’ll make it up somewhere.” A telling glance flew between the two women, something not lost on Sam.

  She tried not to sigh. The last thing she needed on board was a lovers’ spat.

  “Think of it as a public relations investment.” Sam reached in and grabbed a piece of kiwi fruit. “Good publicity goes a long way.”

  “Exactly.” April nibbled on a piece of strawberry. The slender woman never seemed to gain an ounce. Those qualifications were legit and she’d seen customers limp off the Belle after getting a good martial arts workout and leaving April.

  One lock of her shoulder-length brown hair drifted in front of her face. “I saw how you handled the man. It was perfect. You defused a negative situation that could have reverberated back on all of us and turned it into a possible profit. Your actions are likely to be seen as heartfelt and thus encourage more clients to come to us. It’s not rocket science—bad press loses us customers and if we lose one customer it’s one too many.” She studied the timesheet and let out a chuckle. “Besides, Halley, you seem to be grabbing a lot of customers. Must be a lot of desperate miners out there looking to play with—” she waited a second, “—their numbers.”

  Sam stabbed one last bit of banana and popped it into her mouth.

  Time to go before the backbiting really started.

  “That’s it for me. Thank you, Kendra. Now, let’s get ready for a good show, ladies and gentlemen. Two weeks and then we’re outta here, turning and burning for Lima Four.”

  This turned the conversation to what they were going to wear, share and declare—definitely time for her to leave. Sam’s business was getting them here; their business was making the customers happy. The last thing she needed to hear was discussions on sexual techniques and gossip about size, length and timing. She was no prude, but there was only so much sex talk she could listen to before being painfully reminded that she, as the captain, wasn’t going to even get a kiss out of the entire deal.

  She swam toward the hatch, headed for the cockpit and the silence of command. If someone had told her a year ago that she’d be up to her eyeballs in sex toys, courtesans and lovesick miners, she’d have laughed.

  Six months in, it wasn’t so funny.

  She was lonelier and more sexually frustrated than she’d been in ten years of military service. She missed her men, the feeling of being part of a unit. No matter how much chatting and bantering she did with them, the crew of the Belle would never replace her fellow grunts, the ones she’d led and almost died with.

  And that was good. That was just. Payment for her sins and her inability to keep them safe.

  She yanked on the straps as she made her way down the hall, relishing the pain in her shoulders from the excessive force.

  At least she could still feel something.

  * * *

  The bridge of the Belle comprised of a single command chair surrounded on three sides by panels, monitors and switches. The claustrophobic space was not for the faint of heart. The Belle pretty well flew herself but the Guild rules demanded a human at the controls, just in case something went wrong—in other words, the ship taking total control and killing the humans riding inside. There hadn’t been a single incident in the fifty-plus years the Guild had been running both Mercy and Charity ships, but there needed to be only one.

  Everyone needed a human touch.

  The irony wasn’t lost on her that her entire military career had been as a ground pounder, straight-up infantry. She knew as much about spaceships as she knew about choosing the right lip gloss to turn on a man—nothing. The crash course she’d received on how to deal with a shipboard emergency hadn’t been much more than hitting the big red button and waiting for a nearby ship or maybe one of the United Nations Service marshals.

  Still, it was a paycheck for doing very little. She couldn’t complain about that.

  She shouldn’t be complaining at all, accepting her penance in si
lence.

  “Belle, give me an update on how things are going, please.” Sam pulled herself into the chair and buckled the four-way harness. Low/null gravity was nice for the first few days, but eventually everyone liked to have something solid under their feet. Or, in this case, her butt. Her feet still ached but at least she could wriggle her toes and let them recover from the stiletto abuse.

  She plucked the earpiece free and slipped it into the charger. It was mandatory for the captain to wear it whenever she left the ship, to keep in touch with Belle at all times. With speakers set throughout the ship, all any of the crew had to do was call out for Belle and she’d answer back, even in the private quarters. The courtesans had a special safety word to bring Belle up out of her enforced hibernation in their rooms and alert her to a problem or emergency.

  “Refueling is almost complete. Minor damage on the hull due to meteorite impacts is being fixed. Three engine hoses are being replaced, having shown signs of deterioration.” The low, feminine voice drifted out of the speakers, the computer AI sounding as human as it could. “Reservations are coming in quickly and we are at seventy-five percent full for the remaining time on this landing.”

  “Good. Finish up the repairs and make sure we’re ready to pull out at the first sign of trouble.” She was too tired to avoid the obvious pun. Sam rubbed the back of her neck, her hand brushing up over the short-cropped red hair. Long hair was fine for the girls, who had various tricks to lock wayward strands in light gravity, but she didn’t need the trouble.

  “Are you well, Captain?” Belle didn’t miss a thing. “Your voice is registering high stress. Should I call the medic? Maybe your blood pressure—”

  “No, that won’t be necessary. I’m just tired.” Sam rolled her head back and forth, hearing the ominous crack and pop of neck joints. “Tired of being the class tease.”

  “I don’t understand.” The artificial intelligence could calculate the value of pi up to ten thousand places but couldn’t get what she was saying. Maybe there was something to the idea of having a human on standby.