“Not anymore, my friend.” Varlowe gestured to the show. “When you get on stage and sound the ship’s whistle, you won’t just be kicking off this voyage, you’ll be kicking off a new era of respect and understanding for your people.”
Leo smirked. “But no pressure.”
“It’s a ton of pressure. But nothing worthwhile is easy, right?” Varlowe’s voice softened. “You can do this, Leo. I believe in you. With both of my hearts.”
She gazed into his eyes. Even without irises or pupils, Leo could feel the sincerity in them. She really believed he could, and would, be an ambassador for humanity. Her eyelids closed and her lips puckered over her spiny teeth as she leaned in for a kiss. Leo sucked a breath and lurched back, banging his head on the bulkhead behind him with a dull thunk. Varlowe’s eyes opened as he sidestepped away, rubbing his skull.
“Okay, well, I won’t let you down then, boss! Because I treasure our very professional business relationship!” Leo gave Varlowe an awkward salute and backed away. “So, I’d better get down there to blow that whistle, right?”
“Right. Of course.” A disappointed frown crossed Varlowe’s lips as she returned the salute. “Make me proud, Captain.”
“Will do!” With that, Leo scrambled away to a bank of elevators and rushed into the nearest one, his chest tight with anxiety. A tall Ba’lux was already inside. Leo spoke to the stranger’s back as the doors closed. “Lido Deck, please.”
The man poked the button panel, but the lift did not move.
“Emergency stop,” the elevator intoned. “Remain calm. Help will arrive shortly.”
“That will not be necessary,” the Ba’lux said.
The sound of his voice put Leo’s body on high alert even before the man turned to show his face.
“Admiral Skardon!” Leo pressed himself into the corner and forced a smile. “So nice to see you again. Here. In an enclosed space with no witnesses.”
Skardon kept his hands tucked behind his back as he regarded Leo with a snort.
“I have to admit, I didn’t think you would actually show up.” His empty glare was scalding. “You have no business wearing that uniform. You should not be here.”
“Well, to be perfectly honest, I’d rather be at home.” Leo crossed his arms. “But somebody kinda threatened to turn that home into a fiesta of feces. So here I am.”
“It’s not personal. The planning committee made our expansion plans based purely on logistics. Your world just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“That actually doesn’t make me feel any better.”
Skardon snuffed. “Let me get right to it, MacGavin. I cannot have an American ship with an American captain putting a permanent stain on the reputation of WTF cruises.” He glowered menacingly. “I want you to resign and abort the cruise.”
“Yeah? Well I want you to not drop a deuce on Eaglehaven.”
“Done.”
Leo blinked. “Done?”
“I’m willing to cut a deal. If you stop this ridiculous voyage before it leaves the dock, your home shall remain untouched.”
“Seriously? You’d give up your whole spaceport expansion scheme, just like that?”
“Give up? Oh, stars no. I’ll just remove your world from our plan.” Skardon smirked. “To be honest, turning Eaglehaven into a sewage dump would only be gentrifying the place.”
The admiral pinched at the tabloyd around his wrist, pulling a three-dimensional holo from its face. The vibrant sphere of Eaglehaven spun above his hand, surrounded by the floating red text of an executive order. Above was a menu with two choices.
Demolition order pending. CONFIRM or CANCEL.
Skardon hovered his finger in front of the CANCEL.
“It’s that easy. One tap and your stupid little world is spared.” He nodded out the glass back of the elevator at the Bon Voyage Show in progress below. “When you’re called on stage, you’ll terminate this abomination of a cruise and I’ll cancel the order.”
“Wow, that’s… awesome, actually.” A wary smile ticked at Leo’s lips. “But what about Varlowe?”
“What about her?”
Leo fidgeted with the hem of his coat. “If I quit, she still loses the contest. You’ll become president and she’ll be thrown off the executive board.”
“Yes. And?”
“And… well, I don’t want that.”
“Why not?”
Leo shrugged. “She seems nice.”
Skardon pinched his eyes with his fingers. “Are you too stupid to see your options here? You either quit now, forfeiting Varlowe’s job and saving your world, or you proceed and fail, forfeiting Varlowe’s job and losing your world.”
“Yeah, okay, but…” Leo forced himself to stand taller. “What if I don’t fail? I could save Varlowe’s job and Eaglehaven.”
Skardon chuckled. “Let us be clear. There is no chance you will succeed. None. You have no cruise experience, no history of leadership, and no idea what you’re doing. And the second you fail, I will ascend to the presidency and gain the authority to execute my expansion plan. “ He waved the holo on his palm. “All of my expansion plan. Unless you decide to walk away now.”
Leo looked at the hologram of his home world literally resting in this man’s hands. His chest tightened. The orange creep did have a point. Successfully commanding this ship all the way to Ensenada Vega was a long shot. He didn’t want to screw over Varlowe, but he also didn’t want to doom humanity to a Hershey-squirt holocaust. The choice was unfortunate, but it wasn’t hard.
He cleared his throat. “You know, I really should get home. Water my plants and whatnot.”
“I thought you might see it that way,” Skardon said smugly. He tapped the elevator panel, canceling the emergency stop and allowing the car to descend. The doors opened on the Lido Deck and he waved a hand. “Go scamper off and save your little monkey planet.”
Leo didn’t look back as he rushed out of the lift and into the mass of passengers crowded on the deck. Shame burned him like acid, but at the same time a weight had been lifted. For the first time since he arrived, he felt like he could take a breath. Of course, that breath was soiled with Skardon’s condescending mouth farts, but it was a breath nonetheless. And Varlowe would land on her feet. Even if she wasn’t president, she’d still have the WTF fortune, right? She’d be fine. Probably.
He made his way to the stage to perform his first and final official duty as captain of the Americano Grande.
Patriotic music swelled in a deafening crescendo as the show’s narrator boomed from the speakers. “Theirs is a story of hope. A story of dreams. A story of America.”
Leo looked up to see a kick line of Krubbs in football uniforms waving American flags while four Gellicles with pompadours and rhinestone-encrusted jumpsuits bowed to a throne where a Ba’lux woman in a long blue robe swaddled a Mr. Potato Head with a golden halo. He didn’t even want to know.
The alien audience went wild with applause as Kellybean pranced onto the stage. She smiled and threw a paw toward the troupe of performers. “Yeah! Let’s hear it for the stars of our show, the American Eagle Outfitters!”
The roar of the crowd continued as Leo slipped backstage. He hustled over to Burlock, already in position for his introduction. The first officer’s mechanical eye twitched as he looked Leo up and down. “Nice costume.”
“It’s a uniform,” Leo muttered.
“It’s a uniform when you earn it with merit. It’s a costume when it’s a gift from your sugar mama.” Burlock snorted. “But your boudoir role-playing is none of my business.”
Leo’s face blossomed red, but he didn’t argue. It didn’t matter what Burlock thought of him anymore. None of it mattered anymore. He was going home.
“Let’s get this over with,” he grumbled.
The performers bounded past as they exited the stage, waving at the audience with high energy and plastered-on smiles. Leo looked o
ut over the teeming crowd of passengers and steadied himself as Kellybean continued her welcome spiel.
“Are you all having a good time?” The aliens cheered in reply. She put a hand to her pointed ear. “I can’t hear you! Is this the greatest party orbiting the planet Jaynkee?” The audience, conditioned by lifetimes of emcees’ rhetorical questions, cheered louder. “Yeah it is! But we didn’t come here to party over Jaynkee, did we? Who’s excited to go to Ensenada Vega?” The crowd squealed and stomped their feet. “Well then let’s bring out our commanders to get us underway!” She swept a paw toward the wings. “It is my honor and privilege to introduce our first officer, Commander Rexel Burlock!”
The crowd applauded as Burlock strode onto the stage in crisp, measured steps. He snapped to a stop next to Kellybean, raised his mechanical arm, and gave the audience a respectful salute. Kellybean continued.
“Commander Burlock served over thirty years in the Ba’luxi Prime Imperial Navy before joining the WTF family. He’s tough on the outside but on the inside he’s…” She shrugged. “Even tougher, actually. Let’s hear it for the commander!”
Burlock’s lips curled into the slightest hint of a smile as the crowd let out a deafening roar of approval. Kellybean’s showy voice took on an air of gravitas.
“And now, ladies and gentlemen, both and neither, let’s all give a warm welcome to WTF’s newest addition. The senior officer of the Americano Grande, Captain Leo MacGavin!”
A thunderous wave of noise rolled off the audience and crashed against the stage, vibrating Leo in his boots. He took a deep breath, steeled himself, and strode onto the platform. But he wasn’t more than three steps into the spotlight before the energy of the crowd began to change. The whistling stopped. The clapping thinned. By the time he had made it all the way to Kellybean and Burlock, the sea of passengers had fallen totally silent. Leo looked out at the bulging eyes and slack jaws and leaned into the microphone.
“Um, hi. Welcome aboard. I hope you’re all—”
“It’s an American!” a voice shouted. “The captain is an American!”
A murmur rippled through the crowd, spattered with outbreaks of laughter.
“He sure is,” Kellybean said brightly. “A real live person person.”
She gave Leo a withering stink eye.
“I said I was sorry,” Leo grumbled. “Jeez.”
“Wait, it’s really the captain?” a slug in a muumuu shouted.
“Yes, he’s really the captain,” Leo corrected. “Although—”
“Of this ship?” another passenger yelled.
Leo nodded. “Yes. But—”
“Like the actual captain captain?” someone called out.
Leo’s shoulders slumped. “Look, if you’d just let me—”
A rumble of panic swept across the deck. Burlock stepped to the microphone. “Your attention, please.” The audience fell silent, as if crushed under the boom of his voice. “I assure you, this ship and everyone on it are safe in my hands. You can think of MacGavin here as more of an…” He looked at Leo and shook his head. “Ornamental captain.”
“Oh! I get it!” the muumuu slug cackled. “He’s the mascot!”
The crowd exhaled a sigh of relief, rippled with laughter.
“A stupid American mascot for a stupid American ship!” a teenage Gellicle mewled. “That’s hilarious!”
An old Ba’lux hunched over and scratched at his armpits like an ape. “Oooh ooh! Captain American want a cheeseburger!”
Leo scowled. “Wow, that is so speciest.”
Kellybean’s professional smile wavered as she eyed the abusive crowd, but her voice remained light. “How about we get this voyage underway, huh?” She flicked her hand and a long, thin chain with a polished wooden handle descended from above. She glanced to Leo. “Before you sound the ship’s whistle, is there anything you’d like to say to our guests, Captain?”
Leo wiped his clammy palms on his pants as he looked out over the crowd. Thousands of aliens surrounded the stage, but only one caught his eye. Out in the throng, Skardon raised his arm, displaying the demolition order. He lifted a finger and poised it above the CANCEL button.
Leo’s heart thundered as he drew a deep breath. “There is, actually.” He picked at his coat buttons. “I, uh… okay, so… I didn’t ever plan to be the captain of a cruise ship. And I appreciate that this is like, a really big honor, but I can’t—”
“Shut uuuuup!” a high voice bellowed. Leo spied a tipsy Krubb woman with a cocktail in each claw. “Stuff a corn dog in it, American slob!”
Laughter roared across the deck. Even Burlock snorted a chuckle. Leo’s teeth clenched and his cheeks burned. He was trying to quit. He was trying to do exactly what they all wanted if they’d just stop crapping on him for two seconds. His head pounded and his vision went red and fuzzy at the edges. Burlock stepped to his side, his eyes still fixed on the crowd.
“Stop embarrassing yourself and go home,” he muttered from the corner of his mouth. “Nobody wants you here.”
The words stung, but Leo knew they weren’t true. There was one person who wanted him here. And only one. He looked up at the first-class sundeck to see Varlowe flash a proud piranha grin as she gave him two bony thumbs up. His stomach plunged. Was he really going to do this to her?
He was. He had to. For Eaglehaven.
“Okay, so, before I say what I have to say, I just want to thank the president of WTF for believing in me.” His throat tightened. “And I hope she’ll forgive me for—”
“Oh for the love of…” Burlock growled. He pushed Leo aside and leaned into the mic. “On behalf of the crew and our idiot captain, bon voyage.”
He yanked the chain and an earsplitting horn sounded, blasting a vent of roiling steam through the artificial atmosphere. Explosions of confetti and pyrotechnics arched over the crowd as everyone burst into raucous cheers.
Leo’s eyes widened and his face flushed. “No!” he shrieked. “Listen! We’re not leaving! I’m officially calling off—”
His microphone cut out as the DJ resumed her jams, blasting the audience with a wall of party hits. Leo shouted hopelessly against the deafening celebration as the ship’s engines rumbled to life and pulled the Americano Grande away from the dock for her maiden voyage.
“No! Stop!” Leo wailed. “I quit! Listen! I quit!”
Nobody heard him. Nobody even looked at him. His pulse spiked and his adrenaline surged, pulling his vision into a blurred tunnel. The multitude of passengers before him narrowed to a group. To a cluster. To a single person.
Skardon bared his teeth and stabbed the CONFIRM button on the hologram. A new heading appeared.
DEMOLITION CONFIRMED.
PENDING PRESIDENTIAL APPROVAL.
Leo’s view constricted to the simulation of his home moon as enormous craters opened in its face and filled with lumpy brown sludge.
His entire world now rested on his success.
Eaglehaven was doomed.
Chapter Five
An alarm rang through the ship—bold and authoritative but stopping just short of being panic-inducing. It echoed down the long expanse of the Riviera Deck concourse, lined on one side with shops and restaurants, on the other with broad panoramic windows. Every thirty feet, a large round, airtight door was set into the exterior bulkhead between the panes of glass. At each hatch, a member of the hospitality staff in a bright yellow safety vest addressed a group of bored, irritated passengers.
Kellybean smiled as she adjusted her vest. Everything was going according to plan, and she was going to make sure it stayed that way. She only had seven days to prove herself to Admiral Skardon, and she wasn’t about to blow it. She turned to the tourists gathered around her door and put on her assertive hostess voice.
“Good afternoon, one and all. At Waylade Tour Fleet Cruises, passenger safety is our highest priority. So on behalf of the captain and the senior staff, thank you for reporting to your assi
gned muster stations for this short safety briefing.”
“Not short enough,” a man groused. “I’ve heard this blasted speech a thousand times.”
The elder crossed his bony arms over his chest. He was a Geiko—a bipedal lizard with a long, tubular body, short arms and legs, and a stubby tail. His bulbous gray eyes peered from his broad face, and a few withered, pale-orange tentacles drooped from his scalp. He wore a neat golf shirt, rumpled cargo shorts, and black socks and sandals. His orange tiger stripes were faded to a distinguished, rusty gray against the royal blue of his skin.
“I’m sorry. I know it can be a little boring, but please bear with me,” Kellybean said patiently. “It’s important for all guests to review our safety procedures, even if you’ve cruised with us a few times before.”
“A few times?” a woman hooted. “Little miss, I’ll have you know we were cruising with WTF while you were still waiting for your whiskers to come in!”
Kellybean turned to a second hunched blue lizard. Unlike her mate, this Geiko was not resigned to aging gracefully. Her scalp tentacles were plump with collagen injections, and her stripes were airbrushed a screaming shade of fuchsia that suggested she was barely out of puberty. The cosmetic ruse was so blatant it was actively insulting to the intelligence of onlookers.
“I don’t doubt it, ma’am,” Kellybean said. “But these muster drills are required by the Intergalactic Convention for the Safety of Life in Space and—”
“We should be exempt from this nonsense,” the man griped. “We’re not just some lousy tourists, you know. We’re Platinum Elite Class!”
The couple simultaneously raised their arms and flicked fingers at the tabloyds on their wrists, pulling up holographic identicards like badges of honor. According to their stats, Horman and Clermytha Gwapwaffle had logged enough miles on WTF cruises to have flown to the galactic core and back. Twice. Each.
“And we do value your loyalty,” Kellybean said with appropriate reverence. “As our most honored guests, we want to keep you safe in the unlikely event of an emergency. So let’s quickly review our—”
Galaxy Cruise: The Maiden Voyage Page 7
