What Happens in Laredo Stays in Laredo

“Welcome to Laredo,” a hollow digital voice said as the airlock opened. “Home of the loosest slots this side of the galaxy!”
The corridor was dimly light. Men in boots and tall hats walked by. The chocking scent of tobacco hung in the air.
“Does all of Laredo really have a tacky cowboy theme?” Portia asked.
“I don’t think it’s so much of a theme,” Franklin said.
Bea already had a dozen flyers, all with coupons for buffets. “Oh! They a Boone Fabulous here! Clone Twelve. Oh, I’d love to see a Boone tonight if we could.”
“I guess,” Portia said, suddenly unsure of her grandmother’s burning desire to see a clone of a washed up old heartthrob from the previous century. She didn’t even think Bea was fan when the original Boone was popular.
“I loved Boone Fabulous when I was a kid. He was pretty, pretty man. Didn’t have much of a singing voice but there wasn’t a twelve year old girl in the universe who didn’t have a crush on him.”
“Really?”
“Could have been mass hysteria, now that I think about it. But still, a real live Boone clone. They don’t make those anymore, you know.”
With good reason. At his best. Boone Fabulous was a hack propelled by his good looks. At his worst…Portia wasn’t sure what the worst was. She half remembered that the original Boone Fabulous died tragically by skiing into a tree blind drunk.
Portia rounded a corner and left the corridor and entered what had to be the central hub of the Laredo Station. Laredo had in a previous life been a Corporate Slingshot Station. Due to poor planning of a failure to understand how Slingshots work, it was placed in a rather crowded section of space. It had very limited number of target destinations. These destinations were so frequently that they became thick with pirates. Waiting for cargo heavy ships to decelerate and in a moment of vulnerability, prey on these ships. Laredo quickly became very unprofitable for the Corporation to use and it passed into shadier hands.
Laredo now had a new life as a spaceport, casino, and a Slingshot with the option of buying the pirate protection insurance. Expensive, true, but ships hauling black market cargo and smuggling other desirables commodities really couldn’t use more legitimate Slingshots. Laredo was a pirate paradise.
The central hub was lined with shops, restaurants, bars, and casino parlors, and other parlors, judging from the wares on display. The promenade was crowded with patrons, tourists, and what Portia had to assume were pirates. In the center of the promenade was a spectacularly tall fountain. Water cascaded down plates of blue tinted glass etched with galactic maps. The fountain had a beautifully melodic tone that added an odd soundtrack.
A man with short blue hair was sitting by the fountain. He had his arms folded over his chest and seemed to be contemplating Portia and her crew.
Franklin spotted the man. “Turkish!”
“Frankie, you rogue.” So Portia was not alone in believing Franklin was a rogue but Portia wasn’t certain how legitimate the validation could be, considering that the source was undoubtedly a rogue. Blue hair? Laredo? He was a text-book rogue.
Frankie and Turkish exchanged embraces. “You look good for a man who can’t fuel up his ship properly.”
“And you? Charging twice to the going rate to a stranded crew? That’s just robbery and not honorable.”
Turkish smiled. For being an extortionist blue-haired pirate, he had a pleasing rate.
He caught Portia’s eye and winked. “I’ll just add it to your bill.”
“I like him,” Bea said.
“You like everyone,” Portia said. Turkish and his winking eyes made her nervous.
Turkish started walking briskly and the crew followed. “I imagine after four days on a boat, you’d like to see your quarters. Just follow the blue arrows. And I insist you have diner at my table this evening and enjoy the Boone Fabulous Twelve show tonight.”
“I really like him,” Bea said quietly.
Portia liked the idea of not eating sandwiches but did not have a fondness for the idea of her increasing bill. Blue arrows really did light the way to the cabins.



Portia was never so happy to take a proper bath with real water. The “shower” on the StarMaster was really a sonic cleansing system. Sonic waves cleaned as thoroughly as water but it just didn’t feel the same.
She filled the tub to the rim with water as warm as she tolerate. Steam filled the bathroom. It was heaven. The tub was large and Portia slide back, letting her shoulder dip under the water, tilting her head back. She could feel her hair drift on the water and brush into her arms.
“Delivery,” a familiar voice said.
Portia kept her eyes closed. He would go away. He would go away.
“I said I had a delivery for you.” Why wouldn’t he go away?
“I’m busy,” she said loudly.
Franklin appeared in the doorway. “There you are. Turkish wanted me to bring something by for you.
Portia kept her eyes shut. “I know you have no regard for my privacy, but please leave now before I have to kill you.”
“I don’t know why you’re always so angry at me.”
“Really? You really don’t know why, Likenfelter?”
“I think you just like yelling at me.”
“Please don’t take the fact that I’m talking to you as an invitation to converse. Just leave whatever it is you have on the bed and I’ll see you at dinner.”
“Fine.”
“Fine. Hey! Why does Turkish have a bill for me?”
“Because nothing’s free.”
She wasn’t going to get out of the tub. She was going to stay in the water and keep her eyes closed. Franklin could be anywhere, though. He was probably standing in the doorway, staring at her.
“You can keep your eyes shuts and try to pretend I’m not here, but it won’t really work.”
A quick peek confirmed that he was standing in the doorway, arms folded smugly over his chest.
“I’m not pretending but I am concerned about how I’m going to pay this bill. Slingshots aren’t cheap.”
“No, they’re not.”
“And I don’t have any credit.”
“I’ve negotiated terms.”
Terms. “That’s what worries me. What are the terms?”
Portia couldn’t see him but she knew he was grinning broadly.
“Just wear what’s in the box.”
“That doesn’t make me feel better.”
“Turkish is interested in your brains, not your…assets.”
“Ha ha, you’re so witty.”
No reply. Portia opened her eyes; she was alone.





A white box was waiting on the bed. Portia lifted the lid and held up a wine colored gown. Actually, it was more the idea of a gown. The collar was high and a broad gold stripe ran down the front. A multitude of golden beads were stitched to form the stripe. Expensive. She held the dress up to her chest and look in the mirror.
It was short. Really short.
She slipped it on. The fabric was as soft as a cloud. In a mirror, Portia could see the hem adjusting itself to her length, stopping just at her knees. Suddenly it was no longer terribly inappropriate.
It was beautiful. Made her brains look really nice, too.



“So,” Portia said, smiling cheerfully at Franklin.
“So,” he said.
“Diner with the captain,” Bea said. “It’s an honor. You are the captain right? Do stations have captains?”
“I could be considered the captain,” Turkish said, “but we really don’t go by titles around here.”
“No,” Bea said absently. “I wouldn’t think that you did.”
“I’m the boss and that’s what matters.”
Portia was trying her very best not to be impressed. Turkish dined in a large room that had clearly been originally designed as an observation deck. All four walls were open to the stars. Despite the enormity of the space and the vastness that lay beyond, it was an intimate space. She supposed there were benefit to taking over decommissioned space stations. One could put the furniture anywhere, for example.
“Swell place you go here,” Bea said.
“Thank you.”
The food arrived and it was not sandwiches. Portia breathed in deeply the scent of roasted chicken.
“Tomorrow,” Turkish said, “I would to discuss your payment.”
“What did you have in mind?” Portia asked.
“Tomorrow, tonight is not the time for business. Tonight you are my guests and I want you to enjoy the best that Laredo has to offer.”
Portia smiled graciously. “I’ll try not to embarrass myself then, seeing as how I’m in your employ.”
A balding man appeared at Turkish’s elbow. “Sir,” he began.”
“I do not like to be disturbed while I am dinning,” Turkish.
“I know, sir, but it is an extraordinary circumstance. Yes, quit extraordinary. It seems Big Julie…”
“What has Big Julie done?”
“Perhaps your presence in the casino parlor and calm things a bit.”
Turkish frowned. Who ever Big Julie was, he was a big problem. “Franklin, I think I could use your assistance.”
Franklin nodded before finishing the last of his drink.
“Ladies,” Turkish said, standing up from the table. “Please forgive our sudden departure but do enjoy Twelve’s performance this evening. I will not be able to join you, but everything is on the House.




The Boone Fabulous Twelve show began at the top of the hour. Turkish was unable to join them but assured them that anything they wanted was on the house. Portia did not believe him and had a feeling that it would all be part of the negotiations on the payment tomorrow.
Boone Fabulous Twelve was nearing middle age and already passed his peak.
The show was the best second-rate cheese had to offer. Boone wore metallic shirts that were as shiny as his sweaty, red face. The dancers wore nothing but huge feathered headpieces. They danced around him to give the illusion that he could actually dance a bit.
The highlight of the show was when Boone left the stage and flirted with the oldest member in the audience, someone old enough to remember the original Boone. The oldest person was, of course, Bea.
“And who are you, young lady?” He asked into the microphone, lightly holding Bea’s hand, as if he were afraid to touch the elderly.
“Bea.” She actually giggled like a prepubescent girl.
“Charming to meet you, Bea.” Boone kissed Bea full on the lips and the audience roared with delight.
“They don’t make women like they use to!” Boone announced to the crowd.
Bea leaned into Boone and said, “That’s your DNA relative.”
“What?”
“The original Boone Fabulous was your great-grandfather.”
“How come I never heard of this before?”
“Shh, enjoy the show.”