C6 Rough journey

Gerald gazed out the window into the blackness of space. For his whole life, the sky had always been the same. Now, it was utterly alien and he felt surrounded by it. Stars and nebulas sped past as if they were nothing more than clouds and streetlights.

The starliner swam through space as if it were a living creature, with a profile somewhere between a whale and an eel. Whatever it was, it obviously didn’t care too much for Gerald, as his seat bucked at least twice as hard as those around him every time the vessel crested. Consequently, watching the stars and nebulas bound by was kind of like watching from the back of a galloping horse.

“I still prefer the way it looks on Star Trek,” he said, grabbing his churning stomach.

There was a shudder and they stopped again. The passengers moaned.

The stewardess came out from the cabin and put on her best fake smile. Her fingers glowed with a gentle blue light as she placed them up against her temple.

Her voice chimed out sweetly in every passenger’s ears as if she were right next to them. “Ladies and Gentlemen, my name is Sindee and I will be taking over as chief flight attendant while Korta recovers. On behalf of Central Galactic we would like to apologize for the delay. The repairs to our main drive did not hold and we will have to try again. We are working hard to make sure this flight will be safe and swift.”

A wave of protest rolled back at her from the angry passengers. Insults were hurled, curses breathed out in a variety of languages. The feedback was a little too much for her and she had to brace herself against the curtain frame to keep from falling over.

In theory it was only a twelve hour trip from Earth to Central, and that was including taxi travel to the spaceport on Proxima Centuari. Gerald, however, had been traveling for nearly two weeks now. Breakdowns, layovers, security checks, misdirected flights, accidental overbooking, and an interesting two days stuck between an aether storm and a miniature black hole. This was now the nineteenth starliner he had been on since he left home.

Now, only an hour from Central, this latest flight Gerald had been placed on had broken down in that really strange part of the Galaxy near the core where all the subspace antennas kind of cancelled each other out and no one could get any reception on any of their mobile devices.

It reminded Gerald of the stories he had read about the Bermuda Triangle and Amelia Earhart. That is, until she was discovered to be living happily in a retirement community up in Canada married to Gilbert Gottfried.

“I knew I should have switched to another carrier service,” the businessman next to Gerald swore at the dozen illuminated windows that hung in the air above him, each of them frozen and unresponsive. He wore a finely tailored suit, and the quills growing out of his head were stylishly manicured. He reminded Gerald of a big hedgehog.

Unconsciously, Gerald reached for to his forearm, which still held the scars from a hedgehog attack.

“What kind of business are you in?” Gerald asked cordially.

The business man looked Gerald over, his beady little black eyes pausing to focus on the coarse robes he wore. “I don’t want to read your book, he answered.”

Gerald held up his hands. “No pamphlets, no brochures, no proselyting, just trying to make polite conversation to pass the time.”

The man looked at him suspiciously. “I’m not making any donations.”

“Well, that’s good, because I’m not looking for any.”

With that, the man let his guard down a little bit. “You’re awfully chipper for being stuck in here so long.”

“It’s been a good day,” Gerald affirmed. “Haven’t had anything thrown at me.”

The man chuckled, thinking he was kidding. “Well, I suppose when you set the bar that low, most any day would seem good.”

“You’d be surprised.”

A pale stewardess came by with a nearly depleted trolley. “Mister Morrev, can I get you anything?” she asked, looking exhausted.

“About time,” he grumbled. “Give me a glass of Rattajino... and a shot of Rattajino... You know what? Give me a Rattajino chaser too.”

“That’s a lot of alcohol,” she cautioned, her skin changing to a faint yellow.

“And this is a lot of waiting. “I oughtta buy this whole blasted starline just so I can shut it down.”

Her skin changed to a light pink. “I’m very sorry about that. I’ve worked here for ten cycles and I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Mr. Morrev smoothed down his quills and poured the fiery beverage down his throat.

“And would you like anything?” she asked without looking up as she mixed the next drink.

“Could I have another lemon?” Gerald asked politely.

She went pale again. “Sir, those are garnishes for the mixed drinks. I can’t just give them out to you whole.”

“Fair enough, how about a virgin whiskey sour?”

She paused, her skin changing to a light blue. “But a whiskey sour is nothing but whiskey and lemons. If I make it a virgin it’ll be just lemons.”

Gerald grinned impishly.

Her face became tight and her skin grew dark. “Fine,” she huffed, grabbing a pair of lemon slices and throwing them into his lap.

“Awww,” Gerald complained, picking up the wedges and inspecting the stain.

“Looks like your day ain’t going so good after all,” Morrev chuckled, taking a sip of his next drink.

“Ah, but the day isn’t over yet,” Gerald said, pulling out a tiny pouch from under his seat.

“Whatcha got there?” Morrev asked, accepting the chaser from the stewardess.

“They gave me this when my luggage was accidentally incinerated on Bolen,” Gerald mentioned as he rummaged through it. “Apparently it is called an essentials kit.”

Morrev looked at the tiny thing. “Essentials, eh? Clearly, I’ve been over-packing.”

Gerald pulled out a tiny sanitary wipe and began using it to scrub out the stain from his robes.