1
My eyes flewopen as the ceiling tilted and the ship dropped out from under me. Only it wasn’t the ship. It was me, rolling out of bed and landing hard on the floor. My head throbbed like a stubbed toe. I frowned down at my half-buttoned blouse, black lace underwear, and the red heel still clinging to my foot. Wincing, and as quietly as possible—even though it was unlikely any overnight guest would have slept through my ass hitting the floor—I peeked up at my bed.Empty,thank the stars.
Elanie barked through my viewChip comms.
I groaned, turning the volume down on my neural implant.
Sitting up, clutching at my head, I commed,
my assistant replied flatly.
I tried to remember what I’d had to drink last night, and how much of it. But I’d never been good at math.
My door slid open, and Elanie strode in, her long, tanned legs stopping at the foot of my bed. “Stars above, Sunny,” she said, staring down at me like she’d just walked in on a crime scene. “Whatdidyou do last night?”
“Did you hack my lock?” I started to pull my blouse closed, then decidedwho cares. “And I had fun. Loads of it.” This might have been true. I couldn’t remember. The last thing I recalled with any clarity was meeting Co-Captain Isla Jones for drinks at the Blurvan tavern on deck eighteen. There might have been some karaoke later. Possibly a ride around the tavern on a Blurvan’s tail. A sloppy make-out session in a bathroom rang a hazy bell. With whom was anyone’s guess.
Elanie held out her hand, and I took it, letting the perpetually scowling bionic haul me to my feet.
“Why is the ship rocking?” I asked, listing on my way into the bathroom.
“It’s not.” Elanie rolled her eyes while she plucked my other red shoe from the lamp, where it hung by its heel. Where I—or someone else—had apparently flung it last night.
Peeling off my blouse and shimmying out of my underwear, I stumbled into the shower.
Elanie commed while I turned the water to near scalding.
I replied, holding my hand under the shampoo dispenser and waiting for it to squirt.
My D&R itinerary popped into my VC files.
I perused the itinerary she’d sent me while I rinsed the shampoo and waited for the conditioner squirt. Forgoing my typical three-minute conditioner routine, I rinsed quickly, turned off the water, and stomped out of the shower. “Seriously? Wait, is this a prank? Did you corrupt these files?”
“I’m afraid not.”
I scanned the rest of the itinerary. “Caroling? And an ugly sweater contest? What iswrongwith these corporate assholes?”
She shrugged. “It’s not their fault your D&R coincides with Vorp’s Winter Revel. I suppose you’ll have to figure out how to be festive. Do you even have an ugly sweater? Or anything with a cat on it? You know how much Vorpols love cats.”
“No. No to both,” I insisted, ducking under the quikDri. I waited impatiently as a dehydrating film made of microscopic sand guppies dropped from the device. It clung to my head and sucked before peeling itself off with a satisfied sigh. “And I refuse to participate in anything that features the word ‘ugly.’”
“Suit yourself. You have ten minutes.”
As the hospitality specialist aboard theIgnisar—the premier interstellar pleasure cruise in the Juniper-13 star system—I knew my yearly D&R week was unavoidable. But that didn’t mean I had to enjoy it. The coming week at LunaCorp HQ would test my skills for perma-smiling while saying things like:All I’ve ever wanted to do is make otherpeople happy, andI’m so excited to learn from my cohort’s skill sets and experiences.
Puke.
“How entrenched is your precept to do no harm?” I asked Elanie after closing the file.
“For the last time, Sunny, I will not dislocate your shoulder to get you out of this training. No matter how much you beg.”
“Killjoy.”
A bright-red banner flashed:Your shuttle has arrived. Your shuttle has arrived. Make your way to airlock C-14,directly over my central field of vision.
