Leo slouched in the corner of a plush sofa, uniform still on but boots off, feet up on a low table littered with glasses and tumblers. His butt ached from sitting. His eyes were bleary and his throat was dry. But, for the first time since coming onboard, he actually felt good.
“And so a lot of what happened wasn’t the humans’ fault, but a lot of it was,” he said. “In the end, it didn’t matter. The Earth had to be abandoned.”
Varlowe’s soft voice croaked at his side. “I didn’t see any of that in the Star Freedom’s records. None of the files had anything later than the Earth year 2014.”
Leo nodded and shifted his arm. It had gone from pins-and-needles to total numbness hours ago, but it was still draped over Varlowe’s narrow shoulders. At some point she had snuggled herself against his side and put her head on his chest. Her high heels were thrown on the floor and her bare feet were curled under her body. One side of Leo’s uniform was damp with sweat where the furnace of her hot-running Ba’lux physiology had nested.
“Yeah, the Star Freedom’s library systems got pretty corrupted on the journey.” He shook his head. “To be honest, it’s amazing anything on that ship worked at all by the time it was discovered. The Americans got really lucky.”
“Americans?” Varlowe asked. “Don’t you mean Earthlings?”
“No, Americans, actually. The United States of America was a country on the planet Earth.”
“Country?”
“A geopolitical boundary on the planet’s surface.”
Varlowe shifted, poking Leo’s chest with her horns. “I don’t get it. The whole planet wasn’t under a single government?”
“Nope. Different parts of our world had completely different rule, as well as different climates and cultures and languages.”
“Weird. Every planet I’ve ever been to is totally homogenous with one single defining characteristic.”
Leo nodded. “Well, humanity’s lack of unity kind of bit us in the butt. When the Earth went sideways it was a free-for-all. The countries that were able built exodus ships, and they built them quickly and badly. Most didn’t even make it out of the solar system. The ones that did set a course for a Proxima Centauri.”
“Is that a planet?” Varlowe asked.
“A star. But it had a planet that scientists thought might possibly be Earthy enough for humans to live on. The trip was supposed to take about two-hundred years, so they put the ships on autopilot and everyone went into cryosleep.”
Varlowe yawned and stretched. “So what happened when they got there?”
“They didn’t.” Leo’s words should have felt more grim, but time had worn the tragedy smooth and benign. “After all the colonists were in stasis, the different ships’ computers stayed in contact. We know for sure that catastrophic failures destroyed the Wan Hu. And the Saint-Exupéry. And Spacey McSpaceface.”
“That’s terrible,” Varlowe whispered. “How many of the sleeper ships actually survived the exodus?”
“As far as we know, only the one from America. But the Star Freedom suffered its share of failures too.” Leo imagined the enormous ship, rocketing through the void with a hundred thousand people asleep at the wheel. “When it got to Proxima Centauri it didn’t slow down or wake up the crew. It just kept right on going. For like, four thousand years.”
“Until the Geiko found it drifting at the edge of the Four Prime Systems,” Varlowe said, fitting the piece into her mental puzzle.
“Yep. Their anthropologists scraped the data from the ship’s computers and dropped my ancestors on a refugee moon above the planet Jaynkee. And you know the rest.”
Varlowe’s head rocked against his chest. “I had no idea how little I knew about your people. Thank you for enlightening me.”
“Thank you for listening. And for caring in the first place.”
“You’re a good teacher.”
“And you’re a good friend.”
They sat in sleepy silence for a long moment, strangely comfortable in each other’s presence. Finally, Varlowe spoke.
“Leo, do you think I’m ugly?”
He snorted at the unexpected question. “I, uh… what?”
Varlowe’s body tightened. “Ugh, okay. I don’t mean like, ‘Do you think I’m pretty?’ I mean like, ‘Do you think I’m a monster?’”
“No, of course not. Why would you say that?”
“It’s just… when I was looking at your records, I saw folk tales and horror movies. Monsters with sharp teeth and horns and inhuman eyes.” Her voice lowered. “Monsters who look like me.”
Leo shifted uncomfortably. “Humans have a long history of fearing things that are different from ourselves. But we’re not like that anymore. We’re much more accepting now.”
“Then why do you call the rest of us ‘aliens’ even though you’re technically the aliens here?” Varlowe asked. “Why don’t any of you ever leave Eaglehaven and mingle with us?”
The questions settled heavily on Leo’s chest.
“Okay, so maybe we’re a bunch of terrified xenophobes.” He shrugged. “But admitting you have a problem is the first step to recovery, right?”
Varlowe rubbed her sleepy eyes and pulled away. Leo’s body tingled from the sudden absence of her weight and heat.
“So you don’t think I’m ugly?” she asked.
Leo turned to her with a smile. “I promise, I don’t think you’re… yeeaagh!”
He scrambled back, nearly flipping over the arm of the sofa. Varlowe frowned. “I’m getting mixed messages here.”
Leo gaped in horror. Varlowe’s skin had gone pale and yellow under her smudged makeup. A web of blue, swollen veins corrupted her face. Sweat dripped down her long neck.
“What happened?” Leo stammered. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. What are you—”
A violent blast of green foam choked from Varlowe’s lips. She clapped a hand over her mouth and her eyes went wide. “Whoa. I don’t feel so—”
Her head tipped back and she collapsed onto the sofa.
“Varlowe!” Leo howled. He sprang to his feet and shouted at the bartender. “Doctor! Call a doctor! Now!”
***
Leo ran down the Fiesta Deck concourse, barely able to keep pace with the enormous spider-beast strides of the first responder. Lieutenant Commander Marshmallow Hug Dilly Dilly pushed a medical gurney that looked eerily like a high-tech coffin—white and blue with a hinged lid of blinking bio-readouts stretching from Varlowe’s shins to her collarbones. Leo trotted alongside, pale and frenzied.
“It’s gonna be okay, Varlowe. Hold on,” he said. Varlowe groaned and rolled her head on the pillow as Dilly pushed her through a pair of broad doors and out onto the open deck. Leo blinked in confusion. “Why are we outside? Shouldn’t we be headed to the infirmary?”
Dilly shook its head. “We do not have facilities to treat this on board. Doctor has hospital on planet standing by to receive patients.”
The word stuck in Leo’s ear. “Wait, patients? As in, plural?”
Before the Dreda could answer, they plunged into a crowd of passengers in sunglasses and beach gear, all moving toward the spacedock’s gangway tunnel for their shore excursion.
“One side!” a gruff voice shouted. “Move, gahdamn it!”
Commander Burlock bullied guests out of his way, clearing a path for three Dreda drones pushing more clamshell gurneys.
An older woman followed behind them, shouting into a tabloyd on her wrist. “That’s right, three patients inbound from the Americano Grande. Prep your staff for a fun-filled day of bioflushing!”
The woman was from the aquatic planet Simishi, and was dressed in a white lab coat over her medical-blue wetsuit. Well, what the Simishi called a wetsuit, which was the opposite of what a land-dweller called a wetsuit. Her pear-shaped body was wrapped in a form-fitting one-piece garment that circulated a quarter-inch of water over her skin at all times, comp
lete with a glass bubble encasing her head like a fishbowl. Her face was green and vaguely humanoid, except for the gill slits in her cheeks and her narrow orange eyes, set in bony lumps on the sides of her head like a front-facing hammerhead shark.
She scowled at the crowd of gaping tourists and gestured at Dilly. “Yo, legs-for-days. Get rid of the lookie-loos, will ya?”
“As you wish,” Dilly said.
The Dreda reared up, extending its pointed forelimbs as it scuttled toward the guests with a menacing screech.
“Please step back,” its collar intoned calmly.
With a collective shriek of terror, the crowd broke up and ran for cover. Dilly and its drones fanned out, establishing a perimeter as Leo pushed Varlowe’s gurney up to the Simishi. “Hey! Are you the doctor?”
“Ah! You must be the captain. Doctor Ebba Waverlee, at your service.” She pinched his cheek with her gloved, webbed hand. “Hairless Gellicle?”
“No! Human.”
The doctor shrugged. “Eh, I’ll figure it out. Mammals all work basically the same.” She noticed Varlowe’s gurney. “Stars and gas, another one?”
“Another what?” Leo asked. “What’s happening?”
Waverlee glubbed a bubble in her helmet and checked the readouts on Varlowe’s bed. “Food poisoning. The worst cases I’ve ever seen.” She waved a hand at the other gurneys. Willijer, Kersa, and Madame Skardon were in the diagnostic clamshells, looking all pasty and grim. “Looks to me like they had something that didn’t agree with them last night at dinner.”
“At dinner?” Burlock’s eyes narrowed as he turned to Leo. “At the Captain’s Dinner?”
Leo’s stomach plunged. “It couldn’t have been at dinner. I ate the same food and I didn’t get sick.”
The doctor shook her head. “Well, you would be immune to it, wouldn’t you?”
“Would I?”
“You would,” Waverlee confirmed. “Whatever this is, it only affects Ba’lux physiology.”
Burlock stiffened as he noticed a conspicuous absence among the board members. “Where’s Admiral Skardon? Is he all right?”
“Admiral Skardon is fine,” a voice boomed. “Because Admiral Skardon was the only one sensible enough to refuse the captain’s tainted offerings.”
Leo turned to see Skardon, glaring smugly in the third person. He stood tall and proud in his formal robes, showing no hint of the sickness that gripped the rest of the board.
Burlock gave him a sharp salute. “You are wise and wily as always, sir.”
Skardon snuffed at him. “And you’re predictably obsequious.”
“I am merely respectful of my blood debt.”
The admiral glanced at Burlock’s mechanical arm. “I trust the implants are still serving you well.”
“They are.” Burlock’s eye lens twitched. “I’ll never be able to repay you for them, sir.”
“No,” Skardon agreed. “You won’t.” He waved a hand. “Go help the hospitality staff escort the guests to the dock for their shore excursion. You are dismissed.”
“Yes, sir!”
Burlock turned on his heel and marched off to the gangplank tube. The doctor tapped on the gurney readouts and shook her head.
“I don’t get it. All of our menus are put through extensive testing to make sure there are no hazardous ingredients.” Her gills twitched in annoyance. “Somebody would have to royally screw up a recipe to get a mess like this.”
Kersa moaned and coughed up a foamy belch. “It was the American! He made a special dinner to poison us!”
The doctor turned to Leo. “Did you?”
“No!” Leo said. “I mean, yes.” He pinched his eyes. “The first part, not the second part.”
Waverlee choked a surprised bubble. “You served a meal to the executive board without giving it a toxicity analysis?”
“Of course he didn’t,” Varlowe snapped. “Give him some credit. He’s not an idiot.”
“Well, I uh… I mean, it was kind of a last minute…” Leo clutched his hair. “It was spaghetti! Who can’t eat spaghetti?”
“Apparently we can’t,” Madame Skardon hissed. “I should have known better than to eat American food.”
“I did try to warn you,” the admiral said dryly.
The elder opened her mouth to reply, but all that came out was a churning growl from her belly followed by a venting of gasses that made Leo’s eyes water.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he stammered. “I swear, it was an accident!”
Skardon chuckled airily. “An accident. Oh! Simply an accident.” His brow lowered and his voice went dark. “You’re not in a position to cause accidents. The captain is responsible for the lives of everyone on this ship. Your ignorance isn’t just an inconvenience, it’s an active safety hazard.” He leaned in, close enough for Leo to feel his hot, stale breath on his face. “You can’t afford any more accidents, MacGavin.”
Leo nodded and whimpered. “There won’t be any more, sir. I promise.”
“He promises!” Skardon snorted. “Well, that makes me feel better. How about you?” He turned to the gurneys. Willijer groaned from his throat. Kersa groaned from the other end in a way that almost certainly ruined her sheets. Skardon put a hand on the lid of his mother’s bed. “Mother, I demand you remove this creature from command for the safety of this ship.”
“No!” Leo gasped! “You can’t!”
“She can,” Skardon said wickedly.
“No, she can’t,” Willijer said. “According to the charter, she doesn’t have the authority to remove a captain.”
“Maybe not.” Madame Skardon turned her milky gaze on Varlowe. “But I do have the authority to remove a president.”
Varlowe’s eyes went wide. “But… the contest! You said if Leo can get the ship to Ensenada Vega in seven—”
“I wouldn’t have even been at that blasted dinner if you hadn’t invited me,” the old woman interrupted. She cringed as her stomach gurgled. “This is your fault as much as his. You’re both too dangerous to leave in charge.”
“We’re not dangerous!” Leo chirped. “Just extremely unlucky!”
“Madame Skardon, we had a deal!” Varlowe’s bed flashed alerts as her pulse rate and adrenalin levels spiked. “You can’t just call it off and make your son president!”
“Who said I was going to?” The old lady snorted. “You may have turned your back on Ba’lux tradition, but I have not. If we lose our honor, we’ve lost everything.”
Leo blinked. “So… you’re not removing Varlowe from the presidency?”
“I most certainly am.”
“Ha,” Skardon barked.
“But I’m not promoting my boy.”
“What?” Skardon squeaked.
“I’m not going back on my word. At the end of this cruise, the winner of the contest will be president.” The old lady wiped green drool from her mouth. “Until then, there will be no president.”
“Are you serious?” Varlowe cried. “You can’t just leave the company without a leader!”
Willijer raised a pale finger. “Actually, according to the charter—”
“Shut up, Willijer!” Varlowe and Skardon barked.
The admiral turned to the old lady. “Mother, I implore you—”
“I don’t want to hear it,” she grunted. “You two cast your lots on whether or not the American could captain, so let him captain. From now on, the contest is all on him.”
Leo felt the heat of everyone’s gaze burning through his uniform. A uniform he had never wanted less than he did in this moment. He tugged his collar. “I, uh… hoo. Okay. No pressure.”
“It’s sink or swim time, bucko.” Madame Skardon groaned and waved a hand. “And Burlock says there’s a problem with the engines you need to take care of.”
A jolt of panic curdled Leo’s belly. This was his challenge? This was how he had to prove himself? He didn’t know anything about fixing engi
nes. Images of Eaglehaven swirling down a toilet bowl assaulted his frenzied mind.
“Right. Yes. I can totally fix engines.” He scratched the back of his neck and muttered under his breath. “I’m sure there’s like, an instruction manual or something…”
A sharp tone pinged from Doctor Waverlee’s tabloyd. She glanced at it and nodded. “That’s the Halii medevac crew. They’re ready on the dock.” She slapped a palm on a gurney. “Let’s go! Move ’em out!”
Skardon went with his mother as the medical staff began maneuvering the gurneys into the gangway tunnel to the Halii Bai Spacedock. When they were out of earshot, Varlowe reached up and took Leo’s hand in her sweaty palm.
“Don’t worry, Leo. You’ve got this.”
“I don’t. I so don’t,” he stammered. “Varlowe, I can’t do this without you backing me up. I don’t know what I’m doing. And Burlock will eat me alive. I’m going to screw this up and—”
Varlowe put a hot finger on his lips, silencing him. “You won’t screw this up.”
“How can you be so sure?”
A weak smile crossed her foamy mouth. “Because if you do, we are both well and truly hucked.”
Chapter Nine
Kellybean peered out the window of the shuttle as it came in low and slow over the colorful town of Port Ardoba. It touched down in the transit plaza and the doors opened, exhaling the stale, spacedock air and inhaling the moist, tropical atmosphere of Halii Bai.
She took a deep breath and steadied herself. There was a lot riding on this shore excursion. She had to show the admiral he was right to put his confidence in her. Everything had to go perfectly. And it would. She wouldn’t let him down.
Not again.
The smooth wooden planks of the boardwalk were pleasantly warm on the pads of her paws as she strode with purpose into the bustle of the plaza. Tourists from all worlds mingled with the locals at shops and cafes. As a whole, the Halii people were tall and fit, with deep, eggplant-purple skin and symmetrical bands of glowing yellow and green bioluminescence wrapping their limbs and sketching out the features of their faces. It was as if their species had evolved specifically to attend blacklight raves.
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