Page 2 of Adrift! (Cosmic Connections Cruise #2)

Adrift? Really?

Stepping out into the dimmed emergency lighting of the Love Boat I’s main corridor, Remy McCoy considered the dramatic irony that she had come this far—all the way to outer space—to figure out her new direction in life only to find herself once again drifting aimlessly.

At least this time it wasn’t her failure.

The speed-date spaceship cruiser had gotten hijacked apparently?

By some sort of energy monster trapped in the engines or whatever?

And now they were floating around with almost no power while the captain and crew tried to…

save them or something? The whole situation got even fuzzier from there.

It was no consolation that this time she wasn’t alone. Being lost was tragic enough by herself. Being trapped with a bunch of alien wanna-be dates and could-be mates was worse.

Even before the hijacking, Remy had realized the Love Boat I wasn’t the right place for her.

She should never have accepted the free ticket for the sunset tour of three eclipsing moons.

It seemed all very fun and romantic, a vast night sky glittering with possibility—and she just couldn’t do it.

It all just felt too…distant and unreal, as if she were watching a movie she didn’t believe.

Truth was…she didn’t believe in love. Not for her.

After this was over, maybe she would request one of the memory wipes used on Earthers who accidentally discovered the existence of extraterrestrial civilizations.

Maybe she’d ask to forget all the way back to the day right before her first piano lesson, when the lightest touch on the black and white keys had made a sound that seemed to reveal all the secrets of the universe.

At the very least, she was deleting her Intergalactic Dating Agency profile eee-mediately.

But in the meantime… Adrift.

With the rest of the passengers, Remy shuffled dazedly out of the lifepod room where they’d been sheltering in place for what seemed like forever while the energy monster (how was that even a thing?) marauded through the ship.

Since the situation was supposedly “stabilized”, their cruise director had assigned them all staterooms for the rest of the trip—duration unknown.

“Again, I realize this situation is unexpected and unsettling,” Felicity told them as she ushered them down the hall where the energy monster had chased them with shadowy, grasping fingers—which, um, yeah, had been very unexpected and unsettling.

“I promise to do everything I can to make our extra time together as pleasant as possible.” When she walked a few steps backward to smile at them, the button on her uniform sparkled bright gold. “Maybe, hopefully, even enjoyable.”

The buttons were supposed to change according to its wearer’s feelings, a sort of getting-to-know-each-other icebreaker.

Remy would have suspected the buttons were about as real and reliable as a mood ring, except hers had been an embarrassingly dull blue-gray, like oppressive storm clouds—until she’d been fleeing the energy monster with the rest of the passengers, and then it had switched to panicked orange-yellow.

Maybe Felicity’s shining button was meant to subconsciously reassure them, but Remy wondered if it was the way the towering, tawny-furred captain looked at the cruise director with his one golden eye that made the woman glow.

Averting her gaze, Remy plucked the button off her bodice, grimacing when it snagged on the thin fabric.

Having absolutely nothing to lose, she’d truly intended to give alien speed dating a chance, so she’d chosen a casually sexy sleeveless cocktail dress, not too tight, with a low cowl neck and a midi skirt to compensate.

She’d thought the fantasy flowers asymmetrically climbing from the hem to her shoulder might be a potential topic of conversation.

Like, maybe she’d joke about how she couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten flowers from someone.

Although she’d never gotten them for herself either.

Now the cheerfully lush blooms seemed like a lie, and she might never smell another rose if this situation went more sideways. But all the rest of her clothes were back on the space station from where the Love Boat I had departed since they were only supposed to be gone for the evening.

As if Felicity had read her thoughts, the cruise director paused at another corridor junction to look at them.

“The staterooms are identical,” she said, gesturing both ways down the hall, “so choose whichever you like, near whoever you like. While we monitor our situation, the in-room fabricators will be somewhat limited, and I’m asking that you use those resources thoughtfully. ”

Remy raised one hand. “Clean socks at least?”

“And other personal clothing, of course, as necessary.” A hint of color brightened Felicity’s cheeks, rose gold glinting in her button. “The ship’s filtration systems are operational so the bathing amenities are fully accessible.”

As if a hot bath would distract from the drifting problem.

“Chef Styr will have the evening buffet ready soon, so if you like, you can return to the Starlit Salon after you get settled and freshen up.” Felicity flapped her hands gently to get everyone moving toward the rooms, like she was herding goldfish.

“I’ll leave my comm open if you need to contact me about anything.

Here, Mariah, you take this room. Just put your hand on this pad to key the lock… ”

As the small, dark-haired Earther in homemade knitwear followed the cruise director through the pocket door, the other passengers dispersed down the hall. A few of them chose the same doors. Lucky them for the pleasurable distraction.

Remy lingered in the empty corridor, feeling…abandoned. Which was silly. She didn’t know anyone here well enough to feel that way. Probably they just wanted to quickly 3D print some fresh undies before supplies ran out.

“Is there a problem?”

The low baritone voice startled a squeak out of her, and she whipped around, wobbling on her heels. A strong hand wrapped around her elbow to steady her.

She hadn’t realized the bartender had accompanied their group.

Eoyen Ikaryo had been serving fun drinks and chatting them all up while the suns set…

until the energy monster attacked. Then he’d waited with them in the lifepod, deftly managing their nervousness and keeping them updates with reports from the captain and crew.

All things considered, though, she couldn’t appreciate his nonchalant charm.

She straightened, twitching her arm out of his grasp. “Problem? Other than being adrift in space?”

Her traitorous heels gave her enough inches that they were the same height. Which left her staring into his electric silver eyes.

Of course she’d noticed his biomech augments.

Metallic components flashed across his arm when he’d poured their drinks or checked the buckles on their jump seats, and half his face was obscured by the tech.

An implant cupped his jaw on one side with circuitry routing up into his short dark hair.

Yet somehow the pewter intricacy only emphasized the flex of his forearm and the chiseled contour of his cheekbone.

She also hadn’t missed that where his well-fitted uniform revealed any of his organic skin, he was heavily inked with tattoos enough for a backing band and several buff roadies.

Did alien tattoos use ink? Whatever the pigmented substance, the partly obscured figures and symbols weren’t anything she could decipher.

Although she mighta tried, if only to pass those boring, uncertain hours.

But she had not looked closely into his eyes until now. White sparks circled the icy gray half-moons of his irises like restless lightning bolts. The alien robotics contrasted with his easy smile—something he must’ve practiced to use on Earthers because he wasn’t from Earth himself.

Oh, he might look “compatible”, as the IDA handbooks liked to use the term. He had two arms and two legs and two eyes in one face—even if some of those parts were augmented—but her skin tingled with some deep, primitive awareness that he was not human.

At least she hoped that was why she was tingling. That or radiation poisoning or something, because she’d already decided the cosmic connection promised by the Intergalactic Dating Agency was not for her.

Especially not the enhanced charm of the ship’s bartender.

The silence had gone on several heartbeats too long. Were his cybernetics glitching? Behind his bar, he’d been quick with the quips and friendly questions. But now he was staring at her as if she was the weird alien.

Which she sort of felt like, actually.

She crossed her arms. “Sorry. Do I have energy monster stuck in my teeth or something?”

“Monster?” His eyes whirled faster. “Do you have reason to believe the anomaly is edible?”

“What? No. I was just wondering why you were looking… Never mind. It’s a joke on Earth.”

“It sounded more like a deflection.”

Rude. She pursed her lips to one side. “Speaking of deflection, I noticed you didn’t answer my question about being adrift.”

“As you heard in the update from Captain Nehivar, yes, the engines are offline. And yes, that is a problem, but the captain and crew are working hard to return us to our course.”

She’d left Earth because she’d been so off course. But not like this.

He must’ve registered her dismay, because he extended one hand toward her, not touching this time, though she swore she felt a hint of heat. From the augments extending down his fingers? “Why don’t you choose a door.”

“Does it matter? Felicity said they are all the same.”

“The same features, but different aesthetics. These rooms weren’t supposed to be open for this outing, but I looked around before we launched. Should I choose for you?”

She shrugged, then remembered he might not understand all Earther gestures.

Ugh, now her body felt all weird, second guessing every movement.

Hard to believe there’d been a time when she’d been so sure of herself that she’d belted out her deepest feelings at the top of her voice to total strangers. “Go ahead.”

He took her literally and walked in front of her a short way down the corridor, past the taken rooms. “I think…this one.” When he palmed the lock, the pocket door whispered open. “What do you think?”

Not risking that strange tingle, she edged around him to peer into the room. She’d stayed in plenty of two-level one-off motels and multi-story cookie cutter chain hotels, but obviously none of those had a viewport to the blackest night of space.

“Why are there no stars?” She hated the way her voice wobbled, and this time she couldn’t blame her poor choice in footwear.

“There are always stars.” Passing her, he went to the screen in the far wall. “You only need to know how to look.”

On the panel next to the viewport, he made some modification. The screen blurred then focused again, this time with a distant scattering of tiny bright jeweled dots connected by delicate rainbow threads.

“The stars are far between in this sector,” he said, “far enough that Earther visual acuity struggles to perceive. Does this calibration help?”

Remy let out a slow breath. “Is that real? I know astrophotography sometimes uses false color. But that seems like…cheating.”

“Just because your eyes can’t see it doesn’t mean it’s not there.”

Which was true enough, but still stung. “Is that how you see it?” As soon as the words left her mouth, she winced. “I didn’t mean you are cheating.”

“Because my eyes aren’t like yours?” His smile took on an edge. “Or is this also an Earther joke?”

Was it too late to choose an airlock instead of a bedroom door? She’d eject herself into space to chill her flush of awkward embarrassment. She’d never suffered stage fright and didn’t want to start now. “No joke. If I was looking for more of the same, I would’ve stayed on Earth.”

Oh great. Instead of an insult, now that sounded like an invitation.

But he didn’t react, his expression utterly still, as if he were all cyborg, even though she’d watched him interacting with the other passengers in the lounge, sometimes using Earther expressions.

Maybe he didn’t like her. But then, she certainly hadn’t tried to be friendly.

“Thank you for showing me to my room,” she said, trying to echo the pleasant tone he’d used before. “This night has been a little weirder than I expected.”

“For all of us.”

She dredged up a chuckle. “I bet you wish you had some real alcohol hidden away somewhere for a situation like this.”

“It might make things more troublesome.”

She sighed. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Can’t say as I’ve ever made better choices when I was wallowing in my feelings.”

His silvery gaze swept her once, and she wondered uncomfortably what he might be seeing with those enhanced eyes. “Speaking of which, where is your feelings button?”

“Right where it should be: buried deep out of sight.” Then she paused. “I guess that was sort of a joke and a deflection.”

“Ms. McCoy, if I might ask you—”

“Remy,” she interrupted. “Formality seems silly when we’re all stuck here together.”

“Remy.” Though their universal translators were amazing, parsing with both dictionary precision and idiomatic flexibility on the fly, the way he said her name with a hint of exotic inflection reminded her how far she was from home.

By choice, but still. “In the public part of your IDA profile, you mentioned that you used to work as a musician. Since we are all stuck here together, as you say, would you be willing to take part in some entertainment for the other guests?”

She tilted her head, not quite smirking. “Another sort of deflection?”

“A way to pass the time.” His half-moon irises spun once, as if focusing on her. “Just an idea.”

Why had she put that in her profile when it was the life she was leaving behind? At the time, she hadn’t known what else would fill in that blank. She’d had no other job, no other experience, no other dream.

“I don’t do that anymore,” she said at last. “Sorry again.”

He gave her a stiff little bow. “That’s too bad. If you have any questions about the accommodations, my comm is also open.” He took a step back toward the door.

Though part of her twitched with curiosity, wondering what sort of entertainment he envisioned with those silvery eyes, she watched him go. And when the door closed between them with a quiet whoosh, she tried to feel happy that she was finally alone.

But if she dug the feelings button out of her pocket, she knew she’d see the lie with her own unenhanced eyes.