CHAPTER 2
“Nap, why aren’t we stopping?” Randolph fell into the copilot’s seat. Would have been better if he knew how to fly, but the Sixty-Nine ran a mean auto-helper program.
“Busy, busy, busy. Places to go, cargo to steal, new girls to meet.”
“Oh. Zahara was around?”
Lift-off. Nice. Smooth. Easy. I ignored the cursing I could hear from Mission Control. Zahara had arrived, thankfully, a moment too late. “And Carolita. Remember Carolita?”
“Yeah, I do. I’m surprised you do—she hit your head pretty hard. You had some trouble with short-term memory for a bit there.” Randolph managed to look almost conciliatory. Having a face like a basset hound helped somewhat.
“Yeah, and you had trouble with long term. Why did you let me take an order for magma and then let me come to Thurge to try to fill it?”
“I was working on the reactors and hyper-drives when you took the order. Like always. You know, why do you always try to make things my fault?”
“Uh, because you’re here?” Why did I get crewmen who asked the obvious questions?
“Nap, why the hell are we going back up?” Slinkie slithered in. The cockpit was getting crowded. Not that Slinkie was a bad addition. No woman from Aviatus was. The men, on the other hand, made Randolph look like the hottest male on two legs. Slinkie had a real name, not that I knew it. It didn’t matter. She was still the most gorgeous woman I’d ever seen, on any and all planets. However, we had a professional relationship.
“I figured if I turned down the legitimate job, you’d realize you loved me.”
“Oh, Dear Feathered Lord. Nap, we have been through this. You’re not my type.” She tossed her hair. Long, thick, brown hair, naturally streaked with a variety of red, gold and copper hues. She lived to toss her hair. Because it shimmered, even in the dark. I dragged my attention back to flying.
“Because I’m human?”
“I’m human, too, moron. We all are. Our ancestors bred like Libsunos. Earth rabbits, that’s what my great-great-grandfather called them.” Pure-blood Aviatians lived a long damned time.
“See? We’re compatible. So, why won’t you admit you love the Outland?”
“Aside from the fact that you actually call yourself ‘the Outland’? Because you’re a dog, and not in the looks department. Let me think, why aren’t we landing and doing the one legit job we’ve had in months… oh, feathers—Zahara, and Carolita. Oh, and I’ll bet Zithra, Lucia, and Amber were around, too, right?”
How did she remember them all? I couldn’t remember them all. “Uh, yeah. Right.”
“You don’t remember them, do you?” Slinkie’s voice could have cut diamonds. I risked a look. Yep. She had the eagle-glare going. Which was better than the vulture-glare. But not the dove-look, which I’d seen three times in my life. I’d been near death for all of them. Not a good trend, really.
“I remembered Zahara. And Carolita! All on my own. Nasty temper. On both of them. All of them. Thurge grows nasty chicks.” That came out wrong. I winced in anticipation.
“They grow lavaettes. My planet grows chicks.” Now her voice could cut space ice.
“Earth term Nap’s adopted,” Randolph said quickly.
“You know, you’ve been using that lame-duck excuse ever since I hooked up with this crew. Nap’s been to Earth all of once. And he was a baby.”
“I was five.”
“I rest my case. Anyway, it’s still insulting to me.”
“Okay, Slink. You’re the only one I’ll call a chick from now on.” I looked at her over my shoulder and gave her my patented killer smile. “Promise.”
She took a deep breath. It was a risk to continue to look at her chest, but always worth it. She had the best rack in at least twelve star systems. She opened her mouth.
“Screaming or hitting will cause an immediate crash. We have not yet reached escape velocity.”
She closed her mouth and I got the eagle-glare again. “Why do I fly with you?”
“Because you’re secretly in love with me, but you don’t want to admit it, because you fear that you, somehow, are not woman enough to keep me from straying. You’re wrong, of course. I stray because I can’t have you. Vicious cycle.”
Slinkie snorted. “Please. You were a dog before I met you and you’ll be a dog well after I’m gone.”
“You know, this is you being planetist. Just because Zyzzx is a canial planet does not make me a dog. Any more than Randolph coming from Weshria makes him a cat.”
“True. Randolph looks like a basset hound and you’re more cat-like. I’ll give you that. But, you’re still a dog, Nap. Or, to make you happy, you’re a tomcat. And you know what they say about tomcats.”
“It’s better to neuter them young.” Randolph sounded like he was displeased with the basset hound comparison, which was always a shock since you’d think he’d be used to it by now. Of course, he was taking it out on me, not Slinkie, but then again, he was male and shared my appreciation of Slinkie’s assets.
“Et tu, Randy? Et tu?”
“Stop with the pseudo-intellect, Nap. It hurts us all. You gonna jump our favorite pile of junk out of Thurge airspace or just wait for the next eruption to do it for us?”
“Everyone’s touchy. Besides, there’s nothing pseudo about my intellect.” I finished logging in the coordinates, hit the thrusters, grabbed Slinkie, and hit the hyper-drive button.
Due to the way I’d grabbed her and the force hyper-drive exerted when you made the jump, Slinkie was on my lap, arms around my neck, my face buried in her chest. I was forced to wrap my arms around her, to keep her from flying back and getting hurt. One hand needed to be on her behind and one on the back of her head, keeping it snuggled against the back of my neck—for her safety, of course.
When jumping, standard procedures were to remain strapped in until you were cleared through, which was normally three to five long minutes, depending. I’d jumped us to the Gamma Quadrant, a seven minute hold from Thurge.
Argue if you want, but that’s what I call intellect.