Outcast

by Alex Douglas

  ***

  Sometime in the night, Prez stirred in his sleep. His eyes were gummed shut and his mouth was dry, and he felt his stomach starting to wake up and demand some breakfast beans. His limbs were still heavy from all the pactishe, and his skin tingled pleasurably. But he didn't want to move. Lan's arm was draped over his stomach, his leg in between Prez's. His breathing was soft, his breath sweet and smoky at the same time.

  Unthinking, Prez snuggled against Lan's chest and sighed.

  For a moment, it felt just like being in love.

  ***

  Lan woke up the next morning, groggy and so dry in the mouth he felt as if his tongue had been replaced by a piece of carpet. It was almost eleven o'clock. He thrashed around for a moment trying to extract himself from the bedcovers, which had become all humpy in the night. Then he realized that Prez was no longer there.

  He pursed his lips and thought of the night before. Despite smoking every last ounce of the pactishe he had, he could still remember the evening clearly, as if it had happened to someone else. He hadn't said anything stupid or revealing as far as he could tell. Perhaps Prez had some business with the Azari dealer. And the new ship was arriving too. No wonder he'd gotten up early.

  At least one part of Lan was already up. He looked at his penis poking out of the waistband of his trousers and smiled. Humming to himself, he had a quick shower, taking his time to play the faolan and discover all the places it reacted most to. It was an intensely pleasurable experience, and after he'd sprayed the shower floor with another load of sperm, he scrubbed himself quickly, marveling at what a calming activity it was. Perhaps his penis would behave better during the day if it had some attention in the mornings, when it seemed most active.

  All dressed in another robe that apparently made him look like Falo Mitarb, Lan wandered out into the leisure area, whistling to himself. The Friends' café was the destination he had in mind; perhaps Prez would be there. In any case, he had his heart set on a glass of berry squeezings, maybe two. He was very thirsty and ran his tongue around his lips as he weaved through the shoppers, the business people, the weird and wonderful races that he still had not had the pleasure of meeting.

  Prez was indeed at the café, sitting at a table in the corner with Glitch, Vaxel, Doc -- Lan was surprised to see him there -- and a fat, ginger-haired man. Another ku-tah, judging by his hands; his complexion was pasty and white, and he looked as if he had seen something hideously traumatic. Glitch was stroking his arm and trying to encourage him to drink a glass of water.

  Curious, Lan sat down. "Good morning."

  "Lan!" Doc cried. "Great to see you again. You look so different! Must be the clothes. Glad to see your time on the Outcast hasn't been too bad for your health."

  "Hey Lan," Prez said, smiling faintly. He gestured to the ginger-haired man. "You've met before, but maybe you didn't realize. This is Flack."

  Lan swallowed. "Flack?"

  Glitch patted Flack on the arm. "He can't say much, bless him. Doc brought a Malaihan with him, reversed the transformation. Seems it's going to take a while to get him back to normal, what with the shock and everything."

  "Remarkable process," Doc said, sipping a cup of roasted baba bean juice. "Remarkable creatures. Did you know they are somehow able to exert an influence on molecules? In effect, they can manipulate the form of any living creature, including themselves. If only they'd permit scientists to examine them -- what we could learn!"

  "I did not know." Lan was suddenly not hungry. So it had happened at last; his job was gone. It had only been a temporary position, but still, he had hoped... But Flack was back, and Prez was not saying anything about offering him a different position on the new ship, or... Logically, he knew it had only been a matter of time.

  Glitch shivered at the sudden chill. "So, when are we going to see the new ship?"

  "It's already in the dock." Prez grinned. "Gorgeous. Can't wait to get out there for a test flight, but we have to wait for the Andrans to go through the registration paperwork. That could take a while."

  Flack let out a moan and his jaw sagged open. A piece of soggy galaar dropped down his shirt and into his lap. He blinked rapidly for a few seconds, then flopped back in his chair.

  "Do you know where you are?" Prez said, waving his hand in front of Flack's glazed green eyes. "Man, he doesn't look good."

  Doc chuckled. "I've seen him look worse after a night on the mukkesh."

  They were all in such good moods, apart from Flack, who didn't seem to have a mood at all. Lan listened to their banter and conversation and forced himself to eat. The beans were tasteless and unfulfilling. It felt as if his stomach had been torn open and his entire being was leaking out of the wound. He'd been a fool to think he could belong in such a tight-knit group of friends, people who'd formed bonds closer than family through torturous experiences together. His mind dulled with depression at the thought of receiving his severance payout. He didn't want to be alone again, to have to start over. He had no interest in seeing the new ship, no desire to do anything at all except curl up in bed and never look out again. Chewing the last of the beans, he stood up. "I have some business to attend to," he said, and walked out of the café.

  He couldn't bear to say goodbye. If he left now, perhaps he could spare Prez the embarrassment of dismissing him. There was an information desk beside the dock where passage could be booked. Perhaps a ship would be going to Aldor, or somewhere near it. Whatever his parents would do when he returned home, it didn't matter anymore.

  Chapter Eleven

  Later that evening, the crew of the Outcast met again in Grot's Vegetable Parlour for more celebrations. Andran bureaucracy had moved surprisingly swiftly, and the new ship was registered and ready to go. The Azari dealer had paid handsomely for the Outcast and promised that it would be well looked after on its final journey to Azar's transport museum, and that Prez would be given a grand reception if he were ever to consider giving a talk to Azari schoolchildren about what it was like to pilot such an antique. Prez sat back on the cushions and smiled at the ceiling, blissfully happy.

  Flack had recovered well from his ordeal and was stuffing his face with fried meat and eggs, covered liberally in spicy hell's carrot dressing. "Can't remember a damn thing," he said, guzzling a glass of mukkesh. "I'd just put down a royal flush, and that Malaihan started bitching, then bam! Sort of a pain, and then... Well. It was like being in a dream for a while. A very small... hairy dream. Boy, this tastes good!"

  "Shame," Doc said. "I'd very much have liked to learn what it's like to be a spider. They aren't usually very forthcoming."

  Flack finished his steak and mopped the plate with a chunk of bread. "Right!" he said, sucking his fat fingers. "I'm going to find some action, anyone coming?"

  Kris groaned and flopped back on the cushions. "I'm never drinking again."

  "Heard that one before," Flack said, chuckling. "Where's Glitch? She should be here, celebrating my momentous return to form!"

  Vaxel looked around and waved his hand vaguely at the promenade outside. "Shopping, probably. You know women."

  "Pff, shopping." Flack scoffed. "There's only one thing I'm gonna buy tonight, and that's the services of some gorgeous female. For research purposes, of course. Have to check everything's functioning normally after that trauma." He grabbed a handful of his balls to illustrate his point, then nodded at the door. "There she is now."

  Glitch had indeed been shopping; her spiky hair was gone, and it was back to its natural blonde, cut softly around her face. A pale blue dress brushed against her thighs and a jewel gleamed at her throat. Her blue eyes were lined with black and her lips shone with a faint pink gloss. She made her way through the busy bar to the corner and gave a twirl, smiling.

  Vaxel stared at her, open-mouthed. "What's that shit on your face?"

  "Fuck you," she said and sat down.

  "You look lovely, my dear." Flack put an arm around her and squeezed until she groaned. "I'd pup you myself, if
I didn't know you."

  "Nice dress," Kris said. "I can see your panties from here."

  "Keep the compliments coming, boys." She took a drink of mukkesh and crossed her legs, scowling.

  "You look very attractive, Glitch," Prez said, grinning. "Cheers!"

  She clinked her glass against Prez's and smiled. "Cheers! Typical, the only one who appreciates me is the one who doesn't like women."

  "Hey!" Prez protested. "I love women! I've been with at least -- er -- two."

  "Tiburs don't count as women," Flack said and roared with laughter.

  "Anyway," Glitch said, helping herself to a bowl of beans. "Why didn't you tell me you'd got rid of Lan?"

  Prez gaped at her. "What do you mean? I haven't got rid of anyone."

  "Well, he's gone. I went by his quarters to see if he wanted to come shopping with me, and he wasn't there. The room's vacant. And then I went to the dock to check, and apparently... He's gone back to Aldor. Some Belaari ambassadorial transport, jump gate and everything."

  "Maybe that's how they say goodbye on Aldor," Vaxel said, frowning. "They just... leave."

  "Well, you've got your co-pilot back again," Flack said and patted his chest. "I guess he realized he was surplus to requirements."

  "Shut up, Flack." Prez stared into his glass. It was true that the new vessel did not require more than two pilots, but he'd been meaning to find something else for Lan to do because he'd realized he didn't want to let him go at all. His mind returned to the night before, when he'd woken up in Lan's arms and didn't want to wriggle free. It felt like they'd just started getting to know each other, the start of something good, then... "Mother of skies," he murmured, sipping his drink.

  There was a silence, then Flack stood up. "Well, I'm gonna get me some lovin'," he said. "Anyone who's interested... you know where I'll be."

  "Not in the mood tonight," Prez said. "But enjoy yourself."

  "When did you get so virginal?" Flack paused for a moment then slapped Prez on the back. "Good to be back anyway. Maybe tomorrow. Later, people."

  Prez's Tablet bleeped and he picked it up to read, trying to ignore the acidic feeling in his stomach. "So," he said, when he'd finished scanning the information. "We've got ourselves our first mission."

  "Not livestock, please, no livestock." Vaxel crossed his fingers and closed his eyes.

  "No livestock. We're going to take that Malaihan to the port off Andra. It's prepared to pay well to avoid the... let's see how this translates... torture and inconvenience... of a passenger vessel. Handy then, Doc. That's where you want to go anyway, right?"

  "What about that couple I was telling you about?" Doc said. "The ones who want to go..." He looked this way and that, and dropped his voice to a whisper. "To the jungle."

  Prez sighed. "Let's see. Don't need the money so much now, or the hassle."

  "I'm going to bed," Kris said and stood up. "This mukkesh isn't going down at all."

  "I'll join you," Doc said. "Quite tired after that session at the gym. Not in your bed, of course. Mine."

  "Glad you clarified," Kris said and threw an arm around Doc's shoulders. They paid for their drinks and left, laughing together at something. Prez watched them, frowning. A new mission, an easy one, since they were going that way anyway. The ship he'd dreamed about for so long was waiting in the dock, and the Outcast was soon to be the prize exhibit in a transport museum where it would be admired and loved for generations to come, all thanks to Lan.

  Why hadn't Lan said goodbye at least? But then it was probably just as well he hadn't. Didn't it always end up the same way? There was an ache in Prez's throat, and he downed the last of his drink. The loneliness was back with a vengeance, chewing up every piece of happiness he had. For a second he was tempted to follow Flack to the brothel, but he knew it wouldn't help; it never had before.

  ***

  Three weeks later, the crew of the Outcast had settled into their new lives on board the new ship. It was fast and easy to pilot; Flack liked to joke that it practically flew itself as he sat on the bridge scarfing bags of Skits and littering the place with cans of fizzy mukkesha, the non-alcoholic version of his favorite drink. No more cramped bridge or awkward access shaft to climb; the working and living areas were on two separate floors and the bridge at the front, all accessed by a circular elevator shaft. The bridge itself could hold the whole crew if necessary, and there was a spare area for Glitch to work on the state-of-the-art computer system remotely, when she wanted a change of scenery.

  Prez sat in his seat and stared out into space, thinking about recent events. They'd delivered the Malaihan with a minimum of torture and inconvenience, and then he'd allowed Doc to talk him into another Ralia trip, this time with a couple of Azari females who thankfully had not made so much mess in the shuttle. Now the Outcast II was taxiing an Andran diplomat to the nearby system of Dalon, where a newly-interstellar race were applying for membership of the IPF and naturally needed help with the bureaucracy.

  The Andran had joined them twice over dinner, and his conversation had been so dull that Prez woken up face down in his dessert, forced then to grovel and claim some sort of sugar-related medical condition to escape a diplomatic incident. He couldn't wait to get rid of the passenger and have some peace from his constant demands, every minor request delivered in perfectly grammatical three-page documents.

  Some peace. He looked sideways at Flack, who was sprawled in his seat and reading out periodic updates from his Tablet's news server: not the IPF Science and Technology channel that Lan liked, but a channel entitled The Universal Enquirer.

  "Here, did you know..." Flack took a gulp of the mukkesha and burped, "that Balor Flatmit bleaches his cock?"

  Prez sighed and looked back at the AutoNav display. Three more hours before they were due to rendezvous with the main Andran fleet of diplomatic carriers at the edge of Dalon itself. According to the planetary survey, the Andran had shown them over dinner, Dalon seemed as if it would be a nice place to take some shore leave: a tropical climate in the south and a multitude of sparkling green lakes, gentle inhabitants, clean air, and more native animals than any other known planet. He smiled to himself; Lan liked knowing things like that. But the crew hadn't had all the appropriate vaccinations, so it would have to wait. In any case, once Andran bureaucracy descended upon the small planet like an electrical storm, perhaps they would be less keen on the idea of opening their doors to interstellar tourism.

  "Balor who?"

  "The porn star from Andra. Always wondered how he kept it from turning black."

  Prez sighed again. Flack was his family, in DNA and beyond. They'd endured the Doctors together and passed out the other side of Akilian laboratory experiments relatively unharmed. Flack knew everything about him. Or at least, almost everything. And he knew everything about Flack and loved him like a brother. He watched his oldest and closest friend scratching his balls then lift up a fat butt cheek to let out a squeaky fart, and was forced to admit that Flack could sometimes be... irritating.

  There didn't always have to be constant chatter. He wasn't interested in the genital hygiene of porn stars, which politicians had been caught sniffing brain-enhancing mesh-mesh, who was the latest failed singer to take part in Beast Dodge. The empty cans of mukkesha rolled around and made clanking noises against the bottom of Prez's chair. The console looked smudged and smeary with fingerprints, and the air smelled of Flack's farts. Prez summoned the new cleaning android and checked the AutoNav again. Two hours and fifty-five minutes.

  The doors of the elevator swished open and shut. The android hummed into the room followed by Glitch, who was back to her normal blonde spikes and fresh-looking scrubbed skin. She smiled and sat down at the spare desk. "Have a possible upgrade to run by you," she said and fanned her hand in front of her nose. "Boy! Who's been eating spicy breakfast beans?"

  "Who do you think?” Prez scowled and lifted his Tablet to see if there was any interesting news from the Pilots' Weekly.

 
"Prez? Hello? The computer?"

  "Right." He hauled himself out of the chair and stretched the stiffness out of his back. The android released a refreshing scent into the air and began to whirr softly against the surfaces, sucking the empty cans into its base, buffing and shining, playing a tinny tune that was programmed in to maximize the cleaning experience for the watcher. Prez gritted his teeth. "Ask Vaxel if he can disable that music feature," he said. "It drives me crazy."

  "Everything's annoying you these days," Flack said in an even voice.

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "I mean, you're moping around like a kicked puppy, and getting all uppity every time I open my mouth."

  Prez felt all the irritations crystallize into one big burst of anger. "Well, maybe if you kept your mouth shut sometimes...!"

  "Maybe if you had something interesting to say, I wouldn't have to do all the talking!"

  "You ate my Skits!"

  Flack's eyes narrowed. "This isn't about Skits. You're being a bitch, and I know why. You miss him, don't you. You wish I'd been stuck as a spider forever."

  "Fuck off." Prez flopped back down in his seat and folded his arms. "Of course I don't wish you were a spider."

  A red light flashed on the console: a message. "To be continued," Flack muttered. "Damn, it's long distance. Engaging signal boosters to receive."

  Prez watched the android shining the surfaces Flack had touched with his Skit-greased fingers, and sucked on the piercing in his lip. Maybe he was just starting to get cockpit fever; the last time he'd spent any decent length of time on a planet that wasn't full of murderous horny inhabitants was his visit to Andra's capital city with Flack, just before the fateful encounter with the Malaihan. But even that had been all bars and brothels after the long days in the Vessel Tax and Documentation Office, and he couldn't remember much about it.