Episode Seven: Cyrus 4

“I want an Earth Burger.” Zora stared at the flashing directory and frowned. “They don’t have a Jeb’s here.”

“There’s one on Cyrus 2.” Murray raised one judgmental eyebrow at her. “You can’t wait till we get there?”

“I’m going to have to, aren’t I?” She scanned the port business list and frowned. “This place is a dump. How long are we here?”

Murray turned her back on her. She eyed the trickle of pedestrians crossing the station’s main floor and shrugged. “Only until we hand off the first batch of eggs. Rook thinks we need the port on Cyrus 2 for repairs.”

“Because this place is a dump.”

“Because it’s small.”

“Right.” She watched a family of Amarylians pass in front of the billboards. The mother tugged gently on the little girl’s purple hand, encouraging her forward past the flashing ad for Farah’s Frond and Feather. “They have any shopping at all here?” She frowned at the sign as the girl moved on. Cyrrus 2. Of course. Who’d open a Farah’s on Cyrus 4, where the local population obviously didn’t put too much effort into their hair.

“There’s a Bingies.” Murray had to be joking, but the look on her face claimed otherwise.

“Are you serious?”

“Their clothes are very sturdy, Zor.”

“Yeah, sturdy was what I was hoping for. No thanks. I’d rather pick through a dumpster behind Gillian’s.”

Murray sniffed and went board stiff. No doubt stretching the sturdy seams in the blouse she wore under a coat that looked suspiciously similar to the old lab version she used to wear. “Well, they don’t have a Gillian’s,” she snapped. “And we’re not here to shop anyway.”

“Fine.” Zora sighed and watched the foot traffic again. Maybe Mur had them replicate it, but she couldn’t imagine anyone doing that on purpose. A custom lab coat, please. Slightly shorter this time, but with the same, frumpy cut. “When are your science guys coming for the babies?”

“We have a few hours. As soon as Rook files our trip papers, we can grab something to eat.”

“Where?” She stared at the directory again, as if it would magically manifest a decent place to grab lunch. “Does Bingies serve sturdy burgers too?”

“Maybe you should grab something back on the ship.”

“Maybe you should--.” She caught sight of Ignatius over her sister’s shoulder. He stepped around the corner, slid aside to allow the Amarylians to pass, and looked across the port’s main aisle, squinting until his gaze found them. His arm came up in a wave, and he smiled. “I’m gonna grab something back on the ship,” Zora said.

“What the hell is the matter with you?” Murray leaned in conspiratorially, but forgot to lower her voice. “Why not just tell him?”

“Tell him what?” She took a step back, but kept her eyes on the approaching Emperor.

“Oh, I don’t know, Zora. Maybe tell him you’re pregnant, maybe tell him he might be the father, or maybe just tell him that you’re crazy about him.”

“Shut up, Mur.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Good.” She kept backing up. “Cause it’s none of your damn business.”

Murray didn’t get it. No lie. Cause hey, I’m pregnant, wouldn’t exactly be easy. Cause hey, remember that one night, couldn’t really cover it. Cause, you might be the father, but so might a four-armed reptilian overlord from the planet Crag didn’t quite roll off the tongue, did it?

He was an Emperor.

She shook her head and ignored her sister’s disapproving frown. No way in hell, she was telling him. Instead, she avoided his gaze and spun around, intent on a quick escape to her quarters and the last bit of Venusian chocolate she’d stashed under her pillow. Her route to freedom, however, was blocked by a wide, hairy chest.

“Zora?” A deep voice, slightly familiar. “Is that you?”

She cringed and peeked up and to the side, praying the voice belonged to some casual acquaintance--a childhood friend, a teacher, even her high school principal would have worked. Instead she followed the open collar of a loose, white shirt to a rough, unshaven jaw. Three big blue eyes twinkled above a hooked nose, and they knew her far too well for comfort.

“Stanton,” she all but whispered. “How the hell are you?”

“Zora!” His laugh reached the far side of the port, and his stout arms lifted her before she could squeak in protest. “Where have you been, woman?” He spun her in a large circle, one that blurred the station around them, but didn’t quite block out the sight of Iggy’s frown. It passed her twice, punctuated by Murray’s pinched, uptight grimace, and she couldn’t tell which made her more nauseous, the spinning or the view.

Either way, she staggered to the side when Stanton put her back on her feet, and he had to throw an arm around her shoulders to keep her upright.

“You all right?” He winked the middle eye. “How long has it been?”

“Years.” She tried to smile, but he still tilted to one side, and her stomach lurched.

“We,” Murray put more stress on the word than Zora would have called polite. “Were just going to get something to eat.”

“Great!” Stanton bellowed. He had more lung power than most humanoids, she recalled. Three eyes, three lungs, three--. She needed to ditch him, and fast. Ditch him before any conversation ensued, before disaster could strike. “I know a great burger joint, Zor. You’ll love it.”

Burgers. Her stomach turned on her. Apparently, her mouth obeyed it these days. “Fab! I’d kill for a burger right now,” it said. She grinned up at the Triploid and ignored the pang of doubt. If Stanton remembered too much about the last time he saw her, she just might have to.

Next Episode ◦

Episode Seven: Cyrus 4

Episode Six: The Tail

“Pirates?” Zora stared at the main screen where a series of flashing red lights blinked in random, hypnotic patterns. “What the hell do they want with us?”

“Several million credits worth of contraband livestock embryos?” Ignatius stood beside her. He frowned at the screen, and one of his hands still rested distractingly in the small of her back. “The slug eggs?”

“How could they know about them?” Murray spun her chair away from the console long enough to glare at Zora. “I thought they might be friends of yours until they started shooting.” Her raised eyebrow said she still considered it a possibility.

Zora stiffened. “I don’t consort with Pirates, Mur. Jeeze.” Her eyes drifted to Ignatius. Did he buy it? Murray didn’t. She snorted and went back to the console. Rook didn’t even glance in away from the controls, but she thought she saw his shoulders shaking, just a little. Damn them both.

She didn’t imagine the Emperor of a planet full of clone children would consort with pirates. She could imagine what he’d think of someone who had. She could guess exactly how he’d feel about any woman who’d signed on with a ship of marauders, who’d once been known as “The Bloody Red Angel of Nardul Eleven,” who’d had to slip away in the night before her term of service ended in a wedding to the Dark Star himself. She doubted he’d care how much Martian Tequila was involved in the decision either.

That pretty much summed up her whole damned problem, didn’t it? Zora had been around the block one time too many, and she’d had a damned good time along the way. The way she saw it, no one like Ignatius could get past a great many of the things lurking in her past. The Emperor might have eleven wives, but as far as she could tell, he’d never slept with even one of them. The man was a freaking Saint, and she was, well, she was not.

She’d be better off with at least a half a galaxy between them.

“Did they do much damage?” Ignatius dropped his hand from her back and moved toward the pilot’s chair. “I assume you’ve lost them?”

“They ceased hostile activity when we approached the jump gate,” Rook said. He still sounded like a bloody android, flesh or not. “I believe they wished to remain out of range of the authorities.”

“I should think.”

“As to the damage, we sustained little more than minor hull abrasions. I suspect they never intended to damage us at all.” He, also, turned an accusing look at her.

“What?”

“If they were interested in our cargo,” Ignatius interjected. “Then it would follow that they’d want minimum damage.”

“Yeah.” Zora nodded along. “That makes perfect sense.”

“Then why attack so close to a jump gate?” Murray joined in, still characteristically blaming her for everything. “And I can’t see how anyone would know about the eggs.”

“Oh, come on, Mur. You’ve got the activists scrounging for planets to keep them on. Don’t you think someone might have let it slip?”

“Maybe someone let it slip, yes.”

“I’m not sure I like how you’re saying someone, Mur. You want to come out and accuse me of something?” She stared daggers at her sister.

Instead of arguing, Murray darted a nervous look toward the pilot’s side of the cabin. She shook her head, caved and turned back to her controls. Zora bit back a growl and watched the three of them examining the screens and gauges. Once again, they’d gone all funny on her.

“What’s the first stop?” She watched the jump gate swing into view. It pulsed and spiraled inside the containment ring like a trapped star.

“Cyrrus 4.” Rook said, still clipped and reminiscent of his long-lost metallic voice box.

“Really?”

“Yes, and yes,” Murray answered the question without giving her time to ask. “We’ll stop at Cyrrus 2 as soon as the first batch of eggs is delivered.”

“Good.” Cyrrus 2 brought back another flood of memories. These, though less illegal, still widened the chasm she needed to put between her and the Emperor. “I could use to do some shopping.”

She needed new clothes. Her swelling midsection wouldn’t stay invisible for long under the shirts she’d brought. Her hand flickered toward the belly, but she fought the instinct and pressed it to one hip instead. There had to be a shop somewhere on Cyrrus 2 that sold mu-mus, god help her.

Murry kept rattling on. They needed supplies—good—the galley looked dangerously empty, and she could stash a few dozen more Earth Burgers for the next leg of the trip. They needed to repair any hull abrasions. Fine. She’d rather not have a hull breech cut her stint at motherhood short before she even had the chance to count the baby’s arms.

Ignatius turned away from rook and flashed her a grin that made her knees wobble. He was damn adorable, if only--. “Cyrrus 2?” His eyes sparked, and he rubbed his hands together. Maybe. “Fantastic. I think Haley’s Tail is playing a series there.”

Zora’s hopes deflated. Haley’s Tail. She shook her head and gave him her most clueless face. “I’m not sure I’ve heard of them.”

At the console, Murray choked on her air. Rook half-turned in her direction, but neither of them ratted on her directly.

“Oh good,” Ignatius continued. His voice danced with excitement. “I just know you’ll love them.”

“All of them, I should suspect.” Rook said.

She almost didn’t blame him. That would have been a hard one to let pass. She might even have laughed at it before her current predicament once upon a time when she was still the old Zora. Even now, maybe, if she hadn’t been staring in to a pair of lovely, expectant eyes that had no idea why Murray was trembling with unexpressed spasms of humor.

“Fun.” She tried to sound like she looked forward to the horror. “I think I’m gonna go back to my room now.”

Maybe they wouldn’t even remember her. She told herself that a few times on her way off the bridge. Maybe. She knew better. A night with The Bloody Red Angel wasn’t something you just forgot. One corner of her mouth managed to curl into a faint smile. Even new and improved Zora could appreciate that, and if her memory still served, it had been one hell of a night.

Next Episode ◦

Episode Six: The Tail