I sent a message through my cochlear communicator to Jacques’ nanny. Light up the gorsh vaporizer!
I already have, she answered back. Jacques is OK. Good luck, Skylar.
The vacuum tube of peppermint oil shimmered and disappeared as the pirate ship transported it to their bridge. They had no time to examine it because the Interstellar destroyer appeared, guns blazing. The pirate ship fired their thrusters into full reverse, disappearing off our screen, and the destroyer gave chase.
Lumbering along behind was the supply ship, at last! Within a few hours our engineer and his crew had the engines running again and Captain Gantry put us into warp drive for Jolieterre. I never needed a vacation so much in my life. I sent another message to Randy.
We’ll be landing shortly. Worst cruise ever! My leave has been cancelled, I’m up to my eyeballs in shit, but I might have time for a drink at the harbor pub before departing again. I’ve got some comp time coming, so maybe next cycle we could make new plans for our boating adventure?
Randy didn’t respond. Maybe his device was turned off, or maybe he was out of range.
I checked on Jacques, found him playing with some of the young Packars in the game room, his nanny watching over him. I changed out of my uniform, into my going ashore rig. Sterilized my hands, oiled my shiny green skin, then meet Doug in the Pig and Whistle for a well-earned drink.
“What’ll it be?” Shirley asked. “The usual?”
“No, I need something stronger. Whiskey. Make it a double. Neat.”
Doug smiled. He was drinking a non-alcoholic beer. I always felt a little guilty, drinking with Doug, indulging in front of a recovering addict, but he assures me it’s not a problem. “This time I quit for good. Drugs ruined my career, I’m over it. Besides, I’ve got the patch. It’s not quite the same, but...” His eyes were shining. “But right now I’m high on endogenous adrenalin. And you, Nova, you were spectacular.”
“We work together, we’re a team,” I said. “An ex-abuser and a Skeksian. Maybe we could find work on a Border Patrol cruiser.”
*
The quarantine was lifted briefly for the medical examiner to perform a cursory inquiry into the four deaths that had occurred on our pleasure cruise. As foul play wasn’t suspected, the questioning was straightforward and my documentation sufficed. The bodies would be returned to their next-of-kin back on Packar. I thought about the necklace I still carried with me, wondering if it would be missed. I wondered if Doug and I would be commended by the corporate office, but Doug said not to count on it. In fact, you might even lose your license over the gorsh incident.
But Captain Gantry was grateful and covered for me. She even gave me two hours of leave on Jolieterre, while the ship took on fuel, medical supplies, food, alcohol and mood enhancers. I hurried through customs and immigration before taking a cab to the boat harbor to see if I could find Randy. My communicator showed a strong signal but he didn’t answer so I left another message.
The cab driver, seeing I was a Skeksian nurse, asked for a quickie in exchange for the ride, but I gave him a universal note and no tip at all. I didn’t want to get it on with the cab driver, I wanted Randy. What was special about Randy? I wish I could put my finger on it. I mean, I could have had sexual congress with almost any one I wanted. I could have had my pick because everybody desires a Skeksian herm. But I wanted somebody, some sentient being, who liked Nova Skylar for more than just her body.
I had a feeling that Randy would be waiting for me. He would be waiting aboard the boat, he would have stocked it with the things we both love. Beer and wine and sea spiders and and Delvossian Sea stars. There would be a bouquet of Jolieterre wildflowers on board. We wouldn’t have much time but we’d make the most of it.
*
“Can I help you with something?” A grizzled dock worker called out as he approached me. His skin was as furrowed as an old tree trunk.
“I’m looking for Randy Ready. A human. He rented a sailboat.”
The old salt nodded his head toward a distant sail on the water.
Water! A natural body of H2O, how amazing, I thought. Just like in the stories. And to think humans once sailed their planet on such wind machines. The sun reflected dazzlingly. I breathed the air, the oxygen content was twenty-five percent. This was life, what it should be. Clean, rich air and an abundance of deep water.
“They checked out yesterday. A real sailor, a mariner skilled in the ancient art, a rare bird these days. Spent the night at the wharf and took off just a few hours ago when the breeze came up.”
The word “they” hit me hard, like a fist to my stomach. I had to ask.
“He was with someone?”
“Oh, just one of the dockies. They’re always looking to make a buck. And they can take the helm or crank a winch, they’re regular boat rats. Versatile. Like your kind.” He gave me a quick smile, that tell-tale look that I’ve learned to read. A slight widening of the pupils, an involuntary response I pick up on. A whiff of testosterone filled my head. The hormone we all have in common – men and women and hermaphrodites; humans, Skeksians, Packars and space pirates.
“You could pick up work here pretty easy, you know?” The black holes in his eyes were fairly pulsating now. He wanted me. It’s the shiny skin and the promise of both sexes they fantasize about. “A good-looking herm like you. How are you in the galley? No replicators on these boats, we’re totally authentic here. A herm who can cook and handle the sheets can make out pretty good during the summer months. What do you say, you want to go out? A little training run? You show me what you got?”
“Actually, I’m a nurse by profession. And I’ve only got an hour before my ship leaves.”
He snorted. “Nurses don’t make much. I’ll bet you could make more here on the docks. At least in the summertime. Make enough maybe to take a holiday cruise yourself during the winter months. You’d like that, I’ll bet.” Again, the leer.
My heart bruises easily, but this jackal didn’t see my pain. All he could see was my shiny skin. All he could feel was his own need. I walked away.
As I left the marina I saw a young Skeksian, dressed as a male, waiting on the outside of the electronic fence. Too young to be here. Hand on crotch, trying his best to look slutty, he flickered his tongue at me as I passed.
“Need a hand, sailor? Somebody to hold your rope and raise your sail? I go either way, or both.”
Looking at him was like looking into a mirror. I shook my head. “No time. I’m in a hurry. Here, buy yourself something to eat.” I gave him the crumpled universal note I had in my pocket to pay for the cab ride back.
The young Skeksian sneered. “Keep your money, I’m not a beggar.” But he was hungry for it, I knew. Yet he was proud. I could read his face, he was thinking, you’re no better than me, you shiny herm.
I reached deep in my other pocket and pulled out the diamond necklace. “Here,” I said. “Change your life.” I dropped it at his feet.
The Entitled was about to leave, I couldn’t miss it. That ship was my world. My family. All I had. Hearing the whistle, I broke into a run toward home, the rip in my heart bleeding and stinging with every breath.
***
About the author
Linda Collison's writing has received awards from Honolulu Magazine, Southwest Writers Workshop, the former Maui Writers' Conference, and the National Student Nurses Association. The New York Public Library chose her first novel, Star-Crossed to be among the Books for the Teen Age – 2007.
Linda worked as a registered nurse for over a decade. She began freelance writing while in nursing school, and was a scriptwriter and director of marketing for a small video production company in Cheyenne, Wyoming.
Linda loves to travel by foot, fast car, or sailing ship. Her experience as a voyage crew member aboard the H.M. Bark Endeavour, a replica of Capt. James Cook's 18th century
ship, led to the Patricia MacPherson Nautical Adventures. Her latest book, Looking for Redfeather, is a coming-of-age novel about three runaway teens on the road. Read about her other stories and follow her blog on her website www.lindacollison.com.
More fiction by Linda Collison
Friday Night Knife and Gun Club
Looking for Redfeather
The Patricia MacPherson Nautical Adventure Series
Star-Crossed
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