The Golden Token
After the performance ended, the pounding of hard boot steps in the corridor leading to her dressing room told Rose that it had only taken Mr. Barker, the manager of the space casino, ten minutes to realize Rose wasn’t out mingling with the customers.
She’d been hoping for more time to herself and sighed at the sight of him.
Holding up one hand in an attempt to forestall his complaint, she said, “I saw Jak Cade in the audience nursing his drink before we started the finale. I still have the bruises from our last encounter, and I’m not going out there.
Not until you have the bouncers throw him out. ”
Barker snapped his fingers. “Already done. I don’t need that kind of trouble in my place.
Although he’s just a young hothead spaceminer who drinks too much, who doesn’t, these days?
With the mines closing down right and left?
” Cocking his head to the side, Barker gave her a sly smile.
“You usually charm guys like that out of their credits with no problem.”
“Yeah, I don’t date them either,” she said.
“I never should have broken my own rule and made an exception for Cade. He’s one smooth talker all right, until he gets drunk and possessive.
” Shivering, she drew her embroidered red robe more closely around her shoulders.
“You only pay me to dance on the stage and then lure a few customers to buy your watered down feelgoods for me, remember? Nothing more.”
“You went out with Cade on your own time,” he reminded her. “Wasn’t my business until he created a scene in my casino.”
She shrugged, not wanting to discuss her unruly ex-boyfriend any further.
Turning her personal handheld toward the boss, she crooked a finger.
“Come look at this—I had an idea for a supernova new number. I’ll rehearse the girls on it next week, on our downtime in between miner shuttle arrivals.
Do you think we could afford new costumes? ”
Although the manager stepped closer to where she perched cross legged on her battered chair, Barker closed the screen down with one tap of his fat finger, not even glancing at the animated dancers twirling through an intricate pattern. “We need to talk.” He looked for a chair for himself.
Forewarned by his grim tone, Rose swallowed hard. “We’re not going to lay off any more of my dancers, are we?”
Seating himself as if his leg muscles had lost their strength, the boss ran one hand through his thinning hair. “Worse.” He glanced over his shoulder, plainly making sure they weren’t overheard. “This is strictly between us, but management is closing down the casino in two weeks.”
“Closing it down? What do you mean?”
“We’re not breaking even most months anymore.
No miners with fat paychecks, no credits for us.
The company is all about the profits, so I’m only surprised they waited till now.
The good times for this Sector are long over and you know it too, Rose.
” He patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry, you and I, and a few of my other top employees are going to be transferred.
Everyone else—your dancers, for example—is getting laid off.
No severance pay, just transport back to the primary planet. ”
Shocked, she licked her lips. It took her two tries to find her voice. “Transferred where?”
“No idea as yet. The big boss’ll tell us when the time comes.”
“Will we all be reassigned together someplace?” There was a buzzing in her ears as the idea of being relocated sank in.
Barker shook his head. “Probably not. The company spans the Sectors so they could send us anywhere.”
“But this Sector is my home—I don’t want to leave.” Rose wrapped her arms across her stomach, fighting nausea.
He stood, shoving the chair away. “You signed a contract. Fine print says the company can employ you wherever it needs you. And there’s no demand for your services in Sector 47 anymore if there’s no Hall of Good Fortune.
I knew you’d probably need some time to get used to the idea, which is why I’m telling you now.
Call it a personal favor from me to you. Not a word to anyone else.”
“Sure, I’ll keep my mouth shut. Thanks.”
“Take the rest of this shift off,” he said magnanimously. “But I expect you to mingle with the customers after the next performance tonight.”
Head swimming, Rose nodded. “Of course.” She caught at Barker’s pudgy hand as he shifted stance to walk away. “You—you’ll let me know when we have more details of where I’ll be assigned, won’t you?”
“Of course. Might even be better for you and me than working here has been. Look on the bright side, I always say.” He laughed and went on his way.
Rose took a deep breath, fighting not to cry.
She opened the handheld and erased the rudimentary choreography she’d been so happy about a few moments before.
Sector 47 might be a dead end, and the station a rundown slum, but it was home.
At least here she knew people, knew how to take care of herself, who had influence, who to avoid, who could cause her trouble.
Being completely at the mercy of the avaricious company management, to whom she was just a number, not a person with worth, was terrifying.
She’d be trapped. And as for the rest of the dance troop, the idea of their being dropped into some completely unknown place, to start over, made her heart beat so fast she thought she was going to pass out.
Yeah, she’d seen that clause in the employment contract but who would ever dream the company might use their power?
The only good she could see coming out of this was that at least Jak Cade wouldn’t be stalking her any more. But that wasn’t enough.
He was the only one waiting in the air lock to debark. Charlie glanced at the ship’s Second Officer standing by the controls. Smiling, she thumbprinted his ticket. “Thank you for traveling with us, Mr. McBrire. If you could move along into the exit tunnel—”
“Shouldn’t we wait for the rest of the passengers?” He hoisted his kitbag.
A puzzled frown crossed her face. “There isn’t anyone else.
Sector 47 Station isn’t a normal stop for us, but ICC regulations require we serve stations with no scheduled service, if there’s a passenger.
” She leaned close. “You should have heard the captain complaining. But the law’s the law and you’re ex-military after all, so the Line insisted. ”
“It’s that isolated?” He was surprised, but then he hadn’t been in this area of the Sectors in a long time.
“The travel agent who booked you is going to get reamed, but his screw up isn’t your problem. Are you staying on the station?” Her tone suggested sympathy if he was.
He shook his head. “Passing through, making a connection with a freighter going my way. I won’t be here long enough to breathe much of their precious air.”
“Kumisarc Corporation’ll hit you up for the oxygen tax anyway,” she said.
He walked into the tunnel, barely clearing the portal at the end before he heard the sound of the grav clamps disengaging as the spaceliner cast off.
While following a trail of blinking green arrows, Charlie examined his surroundings.
If this corridor was anything to judge by, the facility was huge, built for a time when the Sector had been on the frontier, the mining colonies active and the immigrants flocking to the opportunities to strike it rich.
Civilization had passed this place by in the last few decades.
His footsteps echoed as he trudged past closed kiosks and arrival/departure airlocks.
The air was cold, metallic in his lungs.
A promising cluster of lights gleamed at the end of the hallway and he soon arrived at the only desk where a living being sat. The man barely glanced at him. “Travel docs?”
Handing over his ticket, Charlie said, “The place always this deserted?”
“You’re on the inter-sector arrival deck, not much action. You taking a census?”
“Just curious.”
Rubbing his jaw, the clerk said, “Maybe a couple of freighters a month for me to deal with. I’m normally assigned one level up, where the miners arrive to burn through their paychecks. Up there, yeah, we see a lot of traffic. No other place to spend credits and blow off steam in this Sector.”
Now Charlie was afraid the guy was never going to shut up. Apparently he didn’t get much chance to talk to another human, and one rhetorical question had opened the flood gates of information on a subject Charlie didn’t care two pieces of space debris about.
He plucked his ticket from the man’s fingers, taking a glance to see how much oxygen tax he was paying. “Wait, there’s some mistake here. I’m not staying on the Station.”
Tongue between his teeth as he concentrated, the station agent reviewed the information on the screen before him. “You’re hopping a ride on the Centauri Dawn to your destination in Sector 46, right?”
“Yes, but she’s supposed to be docking later today.”
The clerk shrugged. “Updated info as of an hour ago. Ran into some rogue comets. She won’t be here for three days. Be glad she’s coming at all, would be my advice.” A small alarm sounded and the man held up one hand. “Hold on, this could be your lucky day.”
“I fail to see how.”
“Says here you’re arrival number one hundred for this cycle and entitled to a golden token, redeemable at the Hall of Good Fortune.” He handed Charlie a large, fake gold coin, embossed with a dragon on one side and blank on the other.
Astonished, Charlie flipped the coin over. “You must be kidding me. Nobody uses metal money these days, not even in a backwater Sector like this.”
The clerk said, “That’s for gambling at the Station’s casino, up on Level A. Only place to get drinks, gamble, have some fun. Depending on your preferences, of course. The menu’s not as extensive as it used to be in the old days. Kumisarc Corporation’s always cutting back.”
In an effort to stem the tide of the now-garrulous agent’s information, Charlie asked, “This station got a hotel?”