What's New
On Day Two?
Beka awoke to a loud thud, an impressive stream of expletives, and a much quieter hushing noise, all emanating from the room next to hers. Ahh, Harper had awakened then. Not hungover, if Trance had managed to keep up with him, but likely he was running on a few grainy hours of sleep and a greatly depleted wallet. Little more than half-awake herself, she threw on a pair of leather pants and a dark golden shirt with long, sheer sleeves and ran a hand through her still newly-blond strands. She squinted at the door through sleep-encrusted eyes for a moment before rediscovering the complex method of turning the knob to open it and bumped to the next door on her right. Gaah, but she hated mornings.
When Trance greeted her, bubbly and widely-smiling as ever, Beka suddenly felt a twinge of sympathy for her engineer. The only thing worse than a sleep-deprived night owl before noon was a cheerful [read:insane] morning person within one hundred meters of said night owl. "Hi, Beka! I hope Harper didn't wake you up. He was good last night, but we got in kinda late."
'We'. So Trance had kept up with Harper. Beka exhaled, very relieved at this news. "More like kinda early, from what I heard." She furrowed her brow. "And speaking of early, why aren't you dead on your feet like Harper over there?" She craned her neck to catch a glimpse of her other crewmate. "Well, dead on his feet if he would get up."
From under twisted, once white sheets, Harper called out, "That's easy, boss. Pixies don't need sleep, do they, Trance?"
The purple girl laughed shortly. "I-I just don't sleep much." She turned from Beka and returned to her attempts to rouse Harper. Beka watched her gently shake Harper for few moments, chuckling at her utter failure. She crossed through the entryway and tapped Trance on the shoulder.
"Let me." She carefully wound a sheet around her right hand and clenched it into a tight fist. "Three, two…" On the final count, she violently wrenched the thin cotton ((A/N: I know, I know, futuristic sheets won't be cotton. Pretend it's something like cotton)) out from underneath Harper, and he tumbled to the worn carpet.
"You're a cruel, cruel mistress, Beka. You're lucky you're so freakin' hot, cos you don't pay crap and you're an Uber-grade sadist."
"Tough love, Harper. Now get up…and for the love of the Divine, where the hell are your pants??"
Trance giggled behind her hand as Harper stood with a sheet draped around him and blearily rifled through his bed coverings. Beka followed Trance's darting eyes and bit back a laugh of her own. Navy blue cargo pants decorated a corner lamp across the room, and in his less-than-alert state, Harper wasn't likely to discover them within a quarter of an hour.
"If your pants end up adorning light fixtures when you're not drunk, it's a miracle you come back from happy hour in possession of your underwear."
Harper turned and peered around the room. "Light fixture?" When he spotted them, he made a valiant effort to move toward his recovered article of apparel but only succeeded in falling flat on his face.
Beka shook her head. "When he's up and decent for public eyes, drag him over to my room, will ya, Trance?"
A few minutes passed before a light tap on her door notified her that Harper had found any and all of his clothing and, she hoped, was wearing them. "Come in," she called. Wrinkled but suitable for public appearance, Harper followed a much more brightly-attired Trance.
"Hey, Beka, guess what I just noticed??" Trance asked excitedly.
Harper groaned. "She's been goin' on about this all morning," he informed her, sotto voce. A spot on his Vedran lettered t-shirt distracted him, and he rubbed at it, frowning.
"You've recognized the universe's starkly cold indifference to us and are so scarred by the disillusionment that you're giving up furry purses forever?"
Trance cocked her head. "Um, no. I still like my purse." After patting the item hanging at her side, she continued. "We all have the same colored hair now!"
Beka blinked. "Except for the pink and purple in yours, Trance. Not that I couldn't," and for a moment, pastel lavender and rose streaked her tresses, "but I'm not sure you'll get Harper to dye his hair pink."
A wicked gleam entered Trance's brown eyes as she studied Harper anew. He stared back at her, eyes wide and hands in front of him defensively. "Oh no. Don't even think about it, Trance. Pink hair on the Harper attracts the wrong kind of people."
Beka laughed. "Now that I would pay to see. Mostly for blackmail purposes, of course." An insistent rapping on Beka's door cut short any futher repartee. "Yeah." A pause. "Come in already!"
A twitchy, olive-colored Chichin slithered into the room. "Rebecca Valentine of the Ooraka Mayru?" She'd personally never worked with the Chichin burdened with the unlikely and unwieldy name Miyk Orbedon dia Toladre Eron, but what she'd heard fit the species's image perfectly. Nothing she couldn't handle.
Harper coughed (or more likely laughed) behind a hand as Beka glared. "That's Captain Valentine of the Eureka Maru, Mr. Eron." If he couldn't even get her name right…
"Ah, yes, yes, Captain. I'm afraid I'm not accustomed to seeing such lovely starship captains; it seems you've tied my tongue all in knots…or you will soon enough."
Beka felt an overwhelming urge to run into the bathroom and stand underneath a boiling hot shower at the hideous creature's insinuation. "Let's keep this platonic, Mr. Eron. I-"
"Please, Miyk."
So far, he'd called her Rebecca, mangled the name of her ship, hit on her, and interrupted her. Such a charmer. She suspected she might have a dead Chichin on her hands before long.
"So, Mr. Eron, what is the job you need my crewmates and I for?" His gaze at her bed before opening his mouth to answer made Beka shudder. "You know what, how about we go…any place else to discuss this." It was not a question. "All of us," she added hastily.
He winked at her. "By all means, Miss…Captain Valentine. My office is-"
"Harper, didn't you want to see the bar here?" Trance jumped in. Beka could've kissed her.
"Yeah, but last night, Beka… oh…yeah. Yeah, that sounds great, Trance. How about it, boss?" Harper sounded like he was auditioning for a bad detective story, but Beka couldn't have cared less.
"The masses have spoken. What do you say, Mr. Eron?"
If anything, that greasy smile grew. Probably thinking to ply Beka from her crewmates with a few drinks, horrid thing. "A lovely idea, Rebecca."
"Captain."
"Of course." Urge to kill, rising…
"…it's a standard voluntary abduction. The Duchess Aricia has received threats from someone inside her palace security team, and her subjects are becoming extremely… restless. She inherited the duchy only a year ago, and the local economy is experiencing its worse depression in over a century."
Harper tossed back half his Weissbrau and sighed. "Another damsel in distress needing Seamus Zelazny Harper. I tell ya, it's the same story every week, like some kind of adventure holodrama with a studly superhero and his beautiful blond sidekicks."
"Yeah, Harper spends all his money, has to borrow from Trance, orders a Weissbrau, and gets delusions of grandeur. Same story." The lavender being smiled as she teased her friend.
"Oh, come on, Trance-"
"You tell her, boss!"
"-Harper always harbors delusions of grandeur."
"Big help you are."
"Mmm, I love wit in a woman."
And I love hair on a man.. "Just tell me when and where, Mr. Eron."
A smirk crossed the Chichin's revolting features, and Beka instantly regretted her choice of words. "I'll always have time for a gorgeous--"
"The job, Mr. Eron. And that better have been 'a gorgeous Captain'."
"Certainly, my golden ray of divine starlight."
Beka glared.
"Captain."
"Thank you. Now, time and place for our rendez-vous with the duchess?"
"Two months from yesterday on the fourth planet of the Merriam-Webster system. You may encounter some…resistance once you arrive at the planet, but most of it should be… pacified sufficiently."
Beka narrowed her eyes. "My crew and I work alone, Mr. Eron. If that's a problem…"
"Oh, no, Captain. I promise you, this will involve none but the crew of the Maru." Hm. Not quite the assurance she desired, but he did promise only to include her crew. Not that a Chichin's promise meant any more than a Nightsider's, but until he broke his word, she would accept it. "One more item of business, my celestial angel of…Captain," he finished uneasily under her annoyed expression. "If you could delay your preparations until I notify you…it will be but a matter of a few short days, at the most."
All right, he could 'celestial angel' her al he wanted, but if he thought he could dictate how she prepped her crew for his job, she'd have to set him straight so fast his green little head unscrewed and spun right off. She told him so, and he hurriedly assured her she'd be on her own very soon.
That evening found her viciously taking her aggression out on a helpless punching bag that had never really done anything to her. "…stupid…tell me how to…stupid….I'll golden ray of divine starlight you…stupid….what kind of name is that… stupid…wish Rev was here…stupid…" A cough from a few feet behind her interrupted Beka's articulate critique of her present employer, and she whirled around the face the cougher with such ferocity that the man actually stepped back a pace. Oh, a bad day to interrupt Valentine rantings was this. Her brain noted a very developed physique and forearm bone spurs even as she began a fresh tirade.
"Listen, I don't care what special significance this punching bag has for you, but I can count four open right now, and unless you want to stand in its place and promise to hold really still, you can go use one of the others." Usually, Beka made at least a minimal sort of effort to regulate her temper around Nietzscheans (it wasn't a question of bravery of a lack thereof, but more of a survival thing. Surely Ubers would understand that), but this was so not the day.
To her surprise and growing irritation, he seemed attempting to hide a smile. And when he spoke, he had the temerity to sound amused. "I would never volunteer for so dangerous a position. If you will allow me, I merely wish to aid you in improving your form. It may prove useful should Mr. Eron decide to attempt more than words."
Beka raised an eyebrow. A friendly Nietzschean? Hello, hell, how's that ice sculpture coming along? She began to respond, when she realized something about his statement. "How did you know I was picturing his face on the punching bag?" Was this Uber stalking her? That would just make her day.
He chuckled. "You mentioned a 'stupid Chichin' and 'what kind of name is that'. I know of one Chichin with a particularly pretentious string of names-"
"Thus spake the Nietzschean," Beka murmured.
"-and I've noticed him lurking about this pestilent drift."
The mystery grew. A Nietzschean who hadn't yet called her kludge or even genetically inferior and didn't mind her mocking Nietzschean tradition as she interrupted him?? If he wasn't so…massive, she might've wondered if the bone blades were false. Rare, but she'd seen it and stranger. "And what unpretentious string of names would you call yourself?"
"Tyr Anasazi of the Kodiak Pride, out of Victoria by Barbarossa." He appeared to watch her closely for a reaction.
She generally hated to disappoint large Nietzscheans, but she'd never heard of the Kodiak Pride. "Kodiak, huh? I could say I'm glad you're not a Dragan, but that'd be like saying I'm glad you're not a rabid man-eating lion." She might as well dance in front of him with a big fat 'Your mother was a hamster, your father smelled of elderberries, and I spit upon your genes all the way back to Drago Museveni. Please maim and injure me at your convenience,' sign.
He just smiled. "You've obviously mastered the verbal jab. Shall we move on to your uppercut, Miss…?"
"Captain Beka Valentine. Not Rebecca, not your golden ray of divine starlight, and not your celestial angel of…Divine knows what, but I don't want to."
"I suppose that exquisite Aphrodite who brought the lights of all the galaxies to illuminate my once-shadowed soul is out of the question?" Ah-ha. The universe had switched tactics and now was trying to rob her of her sanity. Only that could explain this Nietzschean coming dangerously close to flirting with her.
"Hey, if you're up to calling me that every time you want to address me, be my guest."
Between more words in that velvety baritone and standing much too close to her, even putting his arms around her to adjust the position of her hands, this Tyr Anasazi actually managed to give her some potentially highly useful pointers for defending herself. Just let that puke-colored Chichin try something with Captain Valentine.
"Would you think it presumptious of me to purchase a beverage for you?"
Buy her a drink?? "Remind me to call up ol' Lucifer and ask him how his ice-cream business is going down there." She shook her head. "No one has ever accused me of turning down non-alcoholic drinks from attractive men." She insisted on handling the drink herself, though, and he looked approving at her paranoia.
As they sat at a small table near the bar, he asked her why she only accepted non-alcoholic drinks. "Well, unlike many of my acquaintance, substance abuse has never been a life goal." And that was all she'd say about that. She wasn't about to lay out her entire unsavory past and daddy's little addiction before a complete stranger.
For the most part, Tyr directed their conversation, and she soon found herself admitting her now single status and refusing to acknowledge that a very good-looking guy had just asked if she had a boyfriend. Beka Valentine was not ready to start down that road anytime soon.
A sneaking suspicion that she was enjoying herself crept up, and as she furiously quelled the notion, she glimpsed Harper staring incredulously at her. "Oh damn. Damn, damn, damn, damn, DAMN." At Tyr's inquiring look, she elaborated. "That was my Ub…uh…Nietzschean-phobic engineer. You know the type, grew up on Earth, wants to rid to universe of anything with bone blades or includes their parents' names in their own."
Tyr understood, of course. He expressed a desire to see her around sometime (much more eloquently than that), and Beka tossed off some quip in return before ducking out to find Harper and hope to convince him that no, he hadn't seen her chatting in a very friendly matter with an Uber.
During her search, a shocked Beka Valentine realized that she wanted to see Tyr again, too.