Chapter Seven The Guests
CHAPTER SEVEN
The Guests
After the Buffs—that was what I decided to call them, because I didn’t want to expend energy to remember their names—checked in with Daaric on his datapad, they came to me for their room assignments and itinerary.
Maeve and the captain were farther down the corridor, well out of earshot, ready to welcome them into the ship with a fresh drink and a chat before they boarded the midship lift.
“No Dantooine? Why Ghorman?” one of them complained, scanning the itinerary I had transmitted onto their datapads with a tap from my own. “No one cares about silks.”
I gave them a tight smile. “As per the notification we sent out a week ago, the captain has decided to forgo Dantooine this tour due to unsafe activity.”
“Unsafe? You’re kidding,” another added.
The four of them huddled around me, as if they could bully me into changing it.
They were all humans, and by the looks of their clothes, they came from somewhere in the Core.
Most war buffs did. Crisp shirts, pressed trousers, and clean-shaven faces.
All in their mid-thirties. Clearly used to getting their way with their family names or, alternatively, enough credits.
Usually, I would feel a little unease around them, but after surviving a firefight, these guys seemed…
Well, I wasn’t very intimidated by them.
“Is it smugglers?” the one with round spectacles asked.
His friend added, “Syndicate?”
“Pirates?” guessed another—a man with a goatee.
“Pirates?” echoed a soft, honeyed voice from the mouth of the open ramp. “If it were pirates, I’m sure Hansifred wouldn’t mind.”
The Buffs turned to look at the tiny alien woman standing in the entryway, her goggles making her eyes look wide and bright, as if nothing could get past her. She was dressed in unassuming dark trousers and a coarse-spun blue shirt and vest, her skin the color of warm clay.
Daaric shifted nervously, scratching at the side of his neck. Not like she was dangerous but like…he knew her and had maybe lost a bet.
That seemed very possible, knowing Daaric.
“Then why can’t we go?” the guy in the spectacles asked, and his friends all agreed.
“There are far worse things than pirates,” the alien woman replied. Her hands were patiently folded behind her back as she observed them with her magnified eyes. “I’m sure you know whom I mean.”
One of the men—Spectacles—sneered. “You can’t be talking about those First Order rumors, can you?” Then he turned to me. “I thought this was a reputable tour. I didn’t think Hansifred Quay bought into rumors.”
Rumors? Sure, I was shot at today by rumors. But I couldn’t exactly say that in front of the crew, so I reined in my annoyance and said instead, “We don’t want to take undue risks.”
“Sure,” scoffed the last man in the group. Tall and gangly, he spoke with bravado, like he was the leader.
Ugh, this tour was going to be insufferable.
I gathered four key cards—two to each room—and handed them over. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but I promise that we do have a worthwhile experience planned. If not, we would be happy to assist you by refunding your credits before we disembark.”
Grumbling, the men took their room keys and shuffled off into the docking bay toward the lift. The one in the red vest commented enthusiastically that this was the kind of ship Princess Leia Organa used during the war, and my frustration melted.
I wasn’t very good at staying angry, anyway.
Those guys would be a thorn in my side, but at least I knew how to deal with them.
I turned to the alien woman, who barely reached up to my midsection. Her face was welcoming and wise in a comforting sort of way. “Thank you for your help.”
The woman laughed. “Some people thirst for adventure even when they don’t understand the drink. Isn’t that right?” she added with a glance at Daaric.
It was odd to see a fifty-something-year-old pirate go ramrod straight, like he’d just been caught stealing sweets.
Oh, he did know her. Ex-lover?
Boss?
The possibilities were endlessly juicy.
I eyed him suspiciously as I pulled up the manifest on my datapad. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name before. Who may I welcome aboard?”
“This is Maz,” Daaric said, sliding up beside me. Then, a little quieter, he added, “My old boss.”
“It’s a pleasure to—wait.” I paused. “Just your boss?”
He gave me a baffled look. “What do you think she was?”
“Uh”—an ex-lover—“no one.”
The short alien woman laughed. “Oh, I’m not here to steal him back. Don’t you worry about that.”
“I’m not sure whether to be offended or relieved,” he muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. “But what brings you to the Core, boss? Last I heard, you never leave Takodana anymore.”
Takodana. A planet somewhere in the Western Reaches, I thought, if I remembered my star chart correctly.
And I usually did.
“We all need a vacation sometime, and you know I love a good history lesson,” she replied warmly, though Daaric didn’t look convinced. She appraised me with a smile. “You must be Hansifred’s child. You look just like him.”
I was surprised by that. “I…do?”
In the mirror, all I could ever see was my mother.
I didn’t quite know what to say, though I’d been trained to push aside my feelings while talking to guests, so that was what I did and found her name on the manifest. Maz Kanata.
I formatted a key card and transferred the itinerary onto her datapad. “If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
“Oh, I’ll just annoy Daaric with my requests,” she replied with a wink back at her old employee, and shuffled deeper into the docking bay, cooing at the sight of Starstall.
When she was gone, I spun to Daaric and asked, “Old boss? Like, pirate, old boss?”
He shrugged helplessly. “She might’ve changed professions.”
“Did you lose your eye working for her?”
“Nah. She’s the one who shot it.”
“What?”
“It was before I went to work for her.”
“So she shot you and then employed you,” I deadpanned.
He shrugged again. “Lucky break, I guess.”
“No, that’s not what—you know, never mind.” Then I glanced down the ramp to make sure no more guests were currently arriving before I added, “No offense, but why is she here? I doubt she needs a commercial tour to see the galaxy.”
He shrugged. “I never understood her when I worked for her,” he replied helplessly, “so I have no idea. When did she sign up for this tour?”
I read the manifest again. “Last week.”
“Huh. I really have no idea then.”
“Maybe she’s just bored,” I suggested.
Daaric groaned. “Then I pity us all.”
The next guests arrived in taxis, and we went back to work.
This tour had one hundred and seven guests total.
It was fewer than we usually had, but at least all the VIP suites were occupied.
A lot of older people liked to book with us, so most tours were quiet and cozy, and I really loved wrapping up parties and entertainment programming before midnight.
It looked like this tour might be much of the same until three separate large groups of young people checked in, and I began to debate whether to put in my vacation days I never took and commandeer Starstall straight to Endor’s forest moon to wait for the tour there.
Who was I kidding? I’d never taken a vacation day in my life.
It wasn’t until two guests later that I really began to debate the idea, when I had to explain—again—why we were not going to Dantooine.
I felt bad that Dad had had to change the itinerary at the last minute, but we did send out a memo about it, and itineraries changed all the time based on myriad things.
This time, it just happened to be the slow encroachment of fascism.
I checked the guest list after the latest group of tourists, fresh on break from the University of Bar’leth, had come inside. “We still have two guests we’re waiting for, right? The Rem’itals?”
“Sadly not,” Daaric replied. “They canceled last night. They missed their passenger shuttle from Bestine. Apparently someone stole it.”
“That’s sad. They’re a lovely couple. I remember them from the Corellian Run tour.”
“I told them they could rebook without an extra charge. Anyway, that’s it. I’ll go tell the captain we’re ready to shove off.” He put his datapad under his arm and started away but then paused and said, “Hey, you okay? You seem kind of…frazzled.”
I stiffened at the question. Oh, aside from almost getting killed and having to shove a stowaway into a pickled fleek eel container? I was perfect. “I’m…fine. Just have a headache, is all.”
He rubbed his thumb against my forehead. “Yeah, you’ve got a red spot.”
From where Sian’s chin had collided with me in the shop. I quickly stepped away, rubbing at the bruise. “Yeah. I hit my head this morning.”
“You should go to the medbay and get some cream for that,” he suggested, patting my shoulder, and retreated into the docking bay, where Dad and Maeve were holding the lift for him. They shouted to ask if I wanted them to wait for me, but I told them to go ahead and I’d retract the ramp.
After the lift door closed, the tension in my chest unwound a little. My fingers still gripped my datapad a little too tightly. I was dizzy from the past few hours and massaged my temples and told myself to breathe.
You look just like him, Maz had said, but when I caught my reflection in the tarnished metal of Starstall’s hull, I didn’t see my dad at all.
No, Val looked like Dad. Maz was mistaken.
When I looked at myself, I just remembered the way Mom smelled, of ship oil and sweet river roses when they bloomed. If I thought about it too long, I missed her in ways I couldn’t describe.
Val did, too, but he’d never understood why Dad refused to let us wayfind. He hated how suffocating Dad was, how restrictive, how like a cage the Starfarer had become—
So he’d left.
And when he did, Dad stopped talking about him, too.
As I powered down my datapad, I glanced at the time, wondering if I had a moment to slip to the galley to make sure Sian and his little creature weren’t causing chaos. Veebee was right. I shouldn’t have helped them, but what else could I do? Leave them here?
Yes, my common sense replied.
But no one would guess he’d stowed away on the Starfarer. A commercial touring company? It was the last place anyone would look. If you needed to get somewhere fast, stowing away on a cruise ship was the long way around. It was nonsensical.
I went to the control box to close the ramp.
“Steward Quay, do you have room for one more?” came a voice from the mouth of the ramp, drawing me out of my thoughts.
“I’m sorry, but we’re…” My voice trailed off as one last guest stepped onto the ship, sweat prickling his brow as if he’d run halfway across Coruscant to make it here.
I froze.
Because in front of me, framed by the ever-busy, ever-moving city, was the ghost of someone I thought I’d never see again.