Galaxy Cruise: The Maiden Voyage

by Hart, Marcus Alexander

  “Around Blue Hole,” Dilly said. “Anomaly disrupts deep-space comms. We can only contact ships within visual range.”

  “Ah. I see,” Leo said nervously. “And how many of those are there?”

  “Zero. Blue Hole is millions of miles outside shipping lanes. Too dangerous for most vessels.”

  Leo’s pulse quickened. “So, to be clear, you’re telling me we’re in the middle of nowhere, completely alone, and we can’t call for help if there’s a problem?”

  Dilly tipped its head. “Why would there be problem?”

  “No reason,” Leo said. “Just obvious historical precedent.”

  His tabloyd beeped with a sharp emergency tone. He tapped it and a holographic comm bubble appeared, containing the fishy green face of Doctor Waverlee.

  “We’ve got a problem, kid!” she glubbed.

  “Oh, do we?” Leo sighed. “How completely unexpected.”

  “We’ve had five people present in the infirmary in the past fifteen minutes. Internal hemorrhaging and atrial fibrillation. All of them from the concert.”

  “Why?” Leo asked. “What’s causing it?”

  “How should I know? That’s why I’m calling you!” Waverlee barked. “Figure it out before I run out of beds!”

  Leo’s heart raced. This was so not fair! He fixed the engines! Couldn’t he have the rest of the day off from emergencies?

  “Okay, I’ll check it out.” He swiped the doctor off his arm and turned to Dilly. “What’s the fastest way from here to the outdoor—”

  He screamed as the Dreda snatched him up and scrambled over the balcony’s railing. He continued to scream as the security chief scampered vertically across the ship’s enormous glass and metal side. Leo’s breath choked at the sight of the endless void sprawling out below him. But even as terror numbed his senses, he heard a noise thundering through the bubble of atmosphere clinging to the ship. It grew louder as they neared the outdoor concert, turning into a deafening wail of electronic tones and percussive hammering and agonized screaming.

  Dilly raced up the side of the gunwale and launched over the rail like a hungry puma. It came down on its four back legs, dropping Leo on his own two. He staggered away, clamping his palms over his ears against the blistering cacophony. Dozens of alien tourists were gathered on the deck—their levels of discomfort aligned with their unique physiologies. The daintiest among them clutched chairs with their eyes rolled back in pain, the hardiest cupped their hands to their mouths and booed at the stage.

  Leo’s vision swam as he tried to focus. Strobes popped and spotlights circled around three beings that could loosely be called a band. The drummer was an obsolete robot hammering snares and hi-hats in a rhythm that was shockingly off-beat for a machine. At his side was a huge Nomit in a shredded tank top molesting a double bass keytar. His thick, yellow-gray skin was crisscrossed with fresh scratches, like he’d been scrubbed with steel wool. In front was a plant-girl guitarist in leather pants and a tatty denim vest—buttoned once across her chest with the rest open to expose the twisted vines of her abs. Sappy sweat flicked off her foliage as she screamed lyrics into the microphone.

  “Leaves of three! Let it be! You won’t be lichen what you’re gettin’ if you huck with me!”

  Even with his hands pressed over his ears, the performance was still a buzz saw to Leo’s brain.

  “Music is too loud,” Dilly said calmly.

  It jabbed out two arms, firing off streams of webbing at the stacks of speakers flanking the stage. One knocked out a cable, silencing a few woofers. The second went wide and connected with a junction panel. Dilly squealed as a power surge raced down the strand and blasted it backwards into a bulkhead.

  Leo dodged around the spider’s crumpled body as he rushed to the control booth at the rear of the deck. It was an elevated platform with a curved roof and glassed-in walls, loaded with audio-holo gear. He bolted up the stairs, wrenched open the door, threw himself inside, and slammed it behind him.

  As soon as it was closed, the booth dulled the savage song to a thumping roar. Leo pulled his trembling hands from his ears as his brain came back online. Kellybean stood at a massive board of sliders and dials, wearing pointed earphones on her pointed ears. She gazed out at the source of the weapons-grade noise, dreamily twisting a long, pink leaf around her finger.

  “Kellybean!” Leo barked.

  The Gellicle reflexively spun and dropped into a crouch, pupils narrowed and claws out, hissing through her fangs. Leo screamed and lurched into the back wall. Kellybean gasped and straightened, smoothing down her puffed fur.

  “Captain! Sorry, you startled me.”

  Leo rubbed his smashed skull. “The music! Turn it down before heads start exploding!”

  “What?” Kellybean pulled off her headphones and sucked a surprised breath. “Oh! Oh no!”

  She yanked back a slider on the console until the booth’s windows stopped rattling. Outside, the guests blinked and shook their heads as the audible assault subsided. Dilly sprang to its feet, looking embarrassed but unharmed.

  “I’m sorry, sir!” Kellybean cried. “I didn’t realize how loud they were!”

  “How could you not know?”

  “I, uh…” Kellybean held up her headphones sheepishly. A coiled cord hung from the bottom, connected to nothing. “I forgot to plug in my headset. I’m so sorry, Captain! I didn’t have time to set up properly. This isn’t like me! I know you don’t want to hear excuses for poor performance, but—”

  “It’s okay.”

  Kellybean’s ears flicked. “It’s… okay?”

  “It’s okay,” Leo repeated. “People make mistakes. After the day I’ve had, I’m not going to chew you out for one little mishap.”

  “Oh. Well, that’s really kind of you. But…” Kellybean looked at the floor. “There was more than one mishap.” She mumbled. “Several more, actually.”

  Leo sighed. “Do I even want to know?”

  “It’ll all be in my report,” Kellybean said guiltily. “But the short version is, I had to give the whole excursion group refunds and laundry vouchers after my tour got attacked by exploding insects.” She shuddered. “That’s why I was late. It took two hours to clean their slime out of my fur.”

  Leo noticed a crusty yellow swath on Kellybean’s elbow. “Looks like you missed a spot.”

  “Ugh. Thanks.”

  She lifted her arm and licked it clean with her little pink tongue. Leo blinked. “You know, you could take a shower.”

  “And get wet?” Kellybean’s nose wrinkled. “Gross.”

  Before Leo could respond, the Verdaphyte girl’s blistered voice scraped at the windows. “Leaves of three! Let me be! Kiss my roots and suck my seeds!”

  Leo looked across the deck at the band, continuing to desecrate the very concept of music. “Look, I don’t want this to turn into a performance review or anything, but… why exactly did you hire this band?”

  “I didn’t. Someone on my staff did.”

  “To open for legendary crooner Swaggy Humbershant, Jr.?”

  “Uh… no.” Another guilty look flashed in the Gellicle’s eyes. “Murderblossom was actually only contracted to play one late-night show in a tiny little lounge way down on the Piñata Deck. But I kinda…” She turned the pink leaf in her hands. “Gave them a promotion.”

  Leo crossed his arms. “Okay, now we’ve gone beyond mishaps into straight-up poor life choices.”

  “I have some regrets,” Kellybean admitted. “I hadn’t actually heard them play before I offered them this gig. But I owed them a favor.” She fidgeted. “Well, I owed Jassi a favor.”

  “Which one’s Jassi?”

  “The guitarist. Down on the planet she really saved my tail with a couple of high-maintenance Platinum Elites. I just wanted to… thank her.”

  She gazed out the window and absently twisted the leaf around her finger. Leo noticed. “Ah, I see what’s going on here.”


  The Gellicle froze. Her voice went high in forced nonchalance. “What do you mean? There’s nothing going on here.”

  “Whatever. I see the way you’re pining over that plant girl.”

  Kellybean chuckled anxiously. “No pun intended?”

  “Pun completely intended.” He gave her a playful nudge. “Don’t even try to tell me you don’t have a green thumb.”

  A blush prickled through Kellybean’s ears. “Is it that obvious?”

  Leo laughed. “You’ve got it so bad you can barely think.”

  Kellybean mewled and rubbed her eyes. “Gah. You’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let them open for Swaggy. I shouldn’t be obsessing over her at all. I know she’s bad news. And I know better than to let my personal life interfere with my job.”

  The notion sparked a memory in Leo’s mind—a smashed souvenir fotoclip in the bottom of a box in Kellybean’s office. Her and a Ba’lux girl, both in WTF uniforms. Kellybean & Pyrrah 4-eva.

  “Because of what happened on the Opulera?” he ventured.

  “Yeah.” Kellybean’s face remained static, but her puffed tail betrayed her nerves. “I guess WTF probably briefed you on… the incident.”

  Nope! I was just blatantly snooping in your things!

  “The incident. Yes.” Leo nodded. “But I’d prefer to hear your version of it.”

  “My version…” Kellybean blew out a long breath. “Well, I was the Opulera’s entertainment director. I was dating the hospitality chief. To my surprise, she was also dating a few showgirls.”

  “Ouch.”

  “And yoga instructors.”

  “Dang.”

  “And maintenance bots.”

  “Wow. I’m sorry.”

  Kellybean shook her head. “When I found out it destroyed me. The prospect of having to keep working with Pyrrah… to see her smug orange face every day… It was… upsetting.” Her fur ruffled. “After that, I vowed I’d never get involved with a co-worker again. Especially one who didn’t respect me.”

  Leo nodded, fitting the pieces together. “And you’re afraid that Verdaphyte girl doesn’t respect you.”

  “I’m afraid she doesn’t respect anything.”

  On stage, Jassi had straddled the microphone stand and was thrusting her hips, pounding the mic into Stobber’s face in a comically obscene pantomime he clearly wanted no part of.

  “Yeah, I see the red flags,” Leo noted. “But sometimes people surprise you.”

  Kellybean gave him a quizzical look. “Sir?”

  “I’m just saying, if you like her so much, it can’t hurt to get to know her. Give her a chance to prove herself.” He shrugged. “And if it doesn’t work out, you never have to see her again after this cruise.”

  “Captain!” Kellybean’s eyes widened. “Are you suggesting I fire Murderblossom if things don’t work out between me and Jassi?”

  “Of course not. I’m suggesting you fire Murderblossom because they’re the worst band I’ve ever heard.”

  On stage, the musicians brought their song to a chaotic finale. Jassi grabbed the microphone and ripped it out of the stand. “We’re Murderblossom! You’ve been a terrible audience! Go suck a bag of stamens!” She dropped it with a screech of feedback and strutted off the stage.

  Kellybean groaned. “Yeah, there’s no way this is gonna work out.”

  “Probably not.” Leo watched Kellybean as she crossed to the door. “So you gonna go talk to her anyway?”

  “No. I’m going to introduce Swaggy Humbershant, Jr.”

  Leo grinned. “And then you’re going to talk to her?”

  Kellybean sighed. “It seems like a bad idea.”

  “It totally does,” Leo said. “But I think she’d respect you if she got to know you.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “Because you’re a force to be reckoned with.”

  A toothy smile spread on Kellybean’s face.

  “I am, aren’t I?”

  ***

  Jassi’s woody fingertips ravaged the strings of her guitar as she wailed into the microphone. “Green leaves three! Let it be! All bark, all bite! Half girl, half tree!”

  She raked back her scalp foliage, wet and sticky with sappy sweat under the hot stage lights. Behind her, Stobber shredded on his double-necked bass keytar and Hax drummed like a pair of sticks attached to an off-balance paint shaker. But Jassi wasn’t paying attention to them, or to the crowd, or even the giant sucking space butthole squatting overhead. She was playing this show for an audience of one.

  Her leafy brows lowered as she squinted through the irritating flash of stage lights. Kellybean was in the booth talking to the idiot captain, but Jassi barely registered him. All she saw were big yellow eyes. Slinky feline hips. A uniform polo full of mammal parts…

  The song crashed to a conclusion, but Jassi’s hands played three more chords on auto pilot before she realized the boys had finished. She wagged her whammy bar, bending her last note in a ridiculous crescendo before letting it drop. The noise of the band was immediately replaced by the booing of the crowd. Jassi grabbed the microphone and ripped it out of its stand.

  “We’re Murderblossom! You’ve been a terrible audience! Go suck a bag of stamens!”

  She dropped it with a screech of feedback and strutted off the stage. Stobber and Hax followed her, and they all left their instruments in a heap backstage before proceeding to the bar. It was a tropical-style thing made of bamboo and thatched straw. Jassi smirked. Meatworlder architecture was so gruesome.

  She banged a wooden knuckle on the wooden bar top and shouted at the bartender. “Beer!”

  “Two vodka tonics and a methrum chaser,” Stobber barked.

  “One can of synthetic lubricant,” Hax added. “But only if you have low carb. I don’t want to get all bloaty.”

  The bartender hustled off to grab their drinks. Jassi slumped back against the bar on her elbows. On the other side of the deck, Kellybean pounced onto the stage and plucked the microphone off the ground in a single, graceful movement.

  “All right, Americano Grande! Let’s hear it for Murderblossom! Weren’t they great?” She kept smiling, even as the crowd booed and shouted insults. “Now we’re going to take it down a notch and set the mood for you romantic souls out there. Please put your arm appendages together for the velvet tones of Swaggy Humbershant, Jr.”

  The audience pattered applause as an old, gray-striped Geiko with a tentacle pompadour and a sequined jacket swept onto the stage. He caught Kellybean by the waist and the two of them turned in a perfectly choreographed spin, ending in a low dip with her kitty leg kicked out, toes and claws in a dancer-perfect point. Her cruise-uniform skirt rode up, revealing a mile of fluffy white thigh.

  Jassi groaned. “Man, what I wouldn’t give to put some grass stains on that.”

  Stobber glanced at the stage and snuffed. “Shix, Jass. You’re still making panty nectar over that uptight Gellicle?” He shrugged. “I guess it makes sense.”

  “Yeah?” Jassi sneered. “What makes sense?”

  “You and a cat.” He grinned. “’Cause I know how much you love eating—”

  “All right,” Jassi barked. “Take your low-hanging fruit and stick it up your poop chute, Johnny Comedy.”

  “I don’t get it,” Hax said.

  Stobber opened the storage drawer in Hax’s hips, pulled out a datacassette, and swapped it out for the one in his tape-deck chest. “Check out the folder called ‘Boring Tax Stuff.’”

  Hax cocked his head. “Boring Tax—”

  “Trust me.”

  He hit play, and Hax’s eye screen frizzed out as he accessed the data. Jassi slugged Stobber in the arm. “Oi! Quit storing your spank bank in the drummer, ya creep.”

  The bartender returned and set a tray of drinks on the bar. Stobber reached for his tabloyd to swipe a payment, but only found bramble-scratched arm.

  “Gahdamn it.” H
e turned to Jassi. “I lost my tab in the gas hole. This round is on you.”

  “Ugh, fine.” She pulled her crinkled tabloyd from the back pocket of her leather pants and swiped it at the tray’s paypad. “I hope ya choke on it.”

  Stobber shook his head. “Why you gotta be so rude to me when I’m about to make your dreams come true?”

  Jassi sucked an excited breath and clasped her hands. “You’re gonna quit the band?”

  “Har de hucking har har.” Stobber grinned, baring his broken yellow teeth. “No. I’m gonna hook you up with a friend of mine who’s gonna help you score with Miss Kitty-boo-boo.” He pulled out a vial of green pills. “I call him the pharmaceutical cupid.”

  Jassi sneered at him. “You and your friend can huck right off. I don’t need to drug women to get in their pants.”

  “Yeah, I can tell by the way you’re sitting here whining and nursing yer blue balls.” Stobber shook out a capsule and dropped it into one of his two cocktails. “Why you gotta do everything the hard way? One sip of this and she’ll be randy and ready. You just take her back to your room and get right to it.”

  “I’m gonna get right to kicking your nuts out your nostrils if you don’t—”

  “Hey guys! Great show!” a bright voice said. “Your set was really… unique!”

  Jassi whirled around to find Kellybean standing behind her, smiling and fidgeting nervously with her paws. She quickly raked her fingers through her scalp leaves, straightening her pink wave.

  “Uh, yeah. We’re a bunch of real unique motherhuckers.” She leaned back on the bar, putting herself between her scraggly bandmates and the Gellicle. “So, what brings you here?”

  Kellybean’s smile dimmed. “I work here.”

  Jassi snorted a chuckle. “Here to the bar. You’ve made it perfectly clear you don’t drink on duty.”

  A nervous smile tugged at Kellybean’s lips. “Maybe I could just once. In the right company.”

  Stobber grabbed his two vodka tonics. “Well you ain’t never gonna find a better drinking partner than Jassi.” He set the drinks on the bar between the two women and stepped back with a showy flourish. “Enjoy. I won’t wait up for you.”