Episode Twenty-Two: The Music

Zora sat in the back seat of the hover cab and clutched her baby photos tightly to her chest. The data pad was password protected, but she didn’t trust Murray not to work it out. Murray always cracked her best codes as if she could read Zora’s mind.

The vehicle dipped and tilted. The toad at the wheel oozed, and Murray nattered on about something as if the whole world cared. Zora had problems Murray’s science couldn’t solve. In fact, she kind of blamed it for them.  

“You can wear that new dress you just bought.”

“Huh?” Murray didn’t talk about clothes. Something was up. “Where?”

“We’re all going out tonight.”

“Oh. Right.”

“To celebrate and stuff.”

“And stuff?” Little alarm bells. Stuff was not in Murray’s ordinary vocabulary.

“Maybe some dancing.”

“Maybe I’ll stay on the ship.” She watched her sister’s cheek twitch. Something definitely was afoot.

“Oh. Yeah sure. I bet you’re tired.”

Damn. Murray knew she was on to her. She’d pulled out her reverse psychology. Now what? She could stick to her guns and try to flush her out, or she could play along and let Mur think she’d won. She’d be way more likely to slip up if Zora let her get cocky.

“Still, dancing sounds like fun. It’d be nice to relax a little.”

“They’ve only offloaded two thirds of the eggs. Maybe someone should stay back and keep an eye on things.”

“What are you planning?” She kept her eyes on Murray’s face and registered the reaction, the spark of fear, and the wave of guilt. “Spill it, Mur.”

“It’s nothing, Zora. Jeeze. You think maybe you’re being a little bit paranoid?”

“No.”

“You know that’s normal at this stage.”

“I don’t—what?”

“You’re bound to be a little bit over-sensitive and suspicious. It’s a perfectly natural protective instinct.”

“Protective?” She had been feeling a little bit testy. She’d been so worried, but they hadn’t exactly been strolling safely though her pregnancy. In fact, since she’d found out, they’d been shuffling from one dangerous situation to another. “I am worried about the baby.”

“You have every right to be.”

“And it did feel good to find out she was healthy.”

“It’s a girl?”

“Oh. Yeah.” That much, the gender, Faddle had been certain of. “Sorry. I forgot to tell you.” Something about the extra limb had distracted her. She groaned out loud, but Murray swept right over it and didn’t notice.

“A girl! Oh Zora that is so great. I’ll bet she’ll get your hair. You have such great hair, Zor. And she’ll be smart as a whip too. She’ll get into a good school. Zora, you will get her into a good school, won’t you? I mean as opposed to…well instead of…” Murray paused and rebooted in a different direction. “Dresses! We can buy the cutest dresses for her, Zor.”

“We can?”

“Yeah.”

“We?” Did they make little baby dresses with the extra sleeve? God. Murray was going to freak out on her.

“I’m going to be her Auntie.”

“Barf, Mur.”

“Auntie Murray.”

“Where are we going dancing?” She threw herself into the trap. It was that or confess Auntie Murray was going to have to have the baby clothes custom made.

“There’s a great club on the waterfront.”

“The whole damn planet is waterfront.”

“You’ll love it.”

“Fine.” How bad could dancing be? Whatever plan the rest of the Slug One crew had cooked up for her, it couldn’t be worse than listening to Auntie Murray gush over her soon-to –be freakish niece. Not that the extra limb bothered her. She could even see the advantage of it, but she’d always been the pragmatist in the family.

It worked. Murray laid off for the rest of the ride. The cab pulled through the hangar gates and slowed, weaving its way through the bays and the market stalls that dotted the walkways and courtyards between the ships. The whole spaceport was open-aired, barely walled in and full of flashy little things to buy. The Slug One had a bay to itself, but the security didn’t measure up. If someone really wanted to get at it, Zora could see at least a half a dozen ways they could pull it off.

Maybe she should stay with the ship. The Mercur officials had offered the slug babies safe haven, but had only unloaded what they felt they could safely manage. Something about ecological disasters and environmental safeguards—either way it meant they had a vulnerable ship full of eggs until they could deal with the Zander problem and finish their deliveries.

“Perfect,” Murray startled her out of the security inspection. “We should have just enough time to change.”

“I don’t know, Mur. Maybe I should keep an eye on the ship.”

“Don’t be silly. You need to get out.”

“Why?” The suspicion flared again. A warning bell chimed as the cab door slid open and the toad collected his chit from her sister. Murray had played her, had used the baby to distract her from whatever they had planned. “What’s the deal, Mur?”

“Nothing. I just think you’re really going to want to go out tonight.” She climbed out of the cab, and Zora had no choice but to follow her.

She stood at the edge of the hangar, watching her ship. The Slug One was an impressive beast. It gleamed even through the dents and traces of rust, maybe because it was hers, because it held such precious cargo. Any way you sliced it her ship shone like a star.

The grey hulk impressed her almost as much as the man who appeared at the top of the hatch. He strode like the emperor he was down the long ramp. She couldn’t begin to guess where he’d gotten those clothes. He looked like a spacer, like a man she’d have dated—had dated—before she met Ignatius Superius I. His tight, black pants and loose, white shirt might have suited Zander, or even her brother-in-law now that he had a body that actually wore clothing.

On the emperor, they were deadly.

Zora stared at him. Her legs wobbled and her face grew very warm. She felt drunk, felt like running. Except the flutter in her stomach was more than nerves, and he was more than just an emperor, more than just the man who made her knees weak. The kick reminded her exactly what running would cost. It asked her to stay. Maybe it was time to face the music, to face Ignatius Superius I.

After all, she had a bun in the oven that was 99.97 percent his.

Next Episode

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Episode Twenty-Two: The Music

Episode Twenty-One: DNA

Mercur Omega maintained a balmy, tropical climate by natural means. The oceans that dominated the planet’s surface radiated gentle heat and a slightly sugary aroma that, combined with the shoreline plants, made the air smell like a day old fruit salad.

Even well past her nauseated phase, the planet made her want to vomit.

Murray flagged a hover cab that carried them from the hangar to the health district. Mercur didn’t have a downtown. The government radicals limited the buildings in both size and proximity so that not only was the cab ride longer than she’d have preferred, the building they arrived at looked like a small lump of architecture stuck onto the native rock like an afterthought. It had one story, one door, and way too many windows. They liked a good view as much as they liked their planet, the Mercurians.

“Even the bloody clinic looks like a resort.” Zora popped out of the cab. She flipped her hair back, but it just bounced and stayed where it was. The humidity had turned her normally full locks into a nightmare of antigravity curls. “And the air is choking me.”

“Feeling a little irritable, Zor?”

“Everything’s sticky.”

“This, coming from the queen of the Space Slugs?”

“I changed my mind. Let’s just go back…” The hover cab lifted and spun around to face the spaceport. “Crap.”

Murray already marched up the winding, flora infested walkway. “Come on, wimp.” She didn’t look back, just kept straight on right up to the clinic’s front doors.

Zora growled and stomped after her sister. She should have ignored the taunt and fled into the wretched jungle, but the idea of the damp and the stench of over-ripe fruit rated just a shade or two less pleasant than a trip to the doctor. How bad could an exam really be?

At least inside they had atmospheric stabilizers. The cool air smelled sterile, mechanized and deliciously artificial. She flopped onto one of the padded benches and let Murray handle the official stuff. Murray excelled at official, not that the office had a crowd. They sat on the bench less than three minutes before the nurse called her to the exam room.

She gave Mur an evil glare and then followed the lithe Pescine nurse through a sliding metal door. The woman led her past room after room until, picking one apparently at random, she stopped and gestured for Zora to step inside.  She picked up a scan wand and ran it from Zora’s curls to her heels, made a quick note on her data pad and then waved for her to sit.

“It’ll just be a moment.” She walked out, left Zora staring at a bank of instruments and controls. The on-ship med-bots never left you alone with their stuff. They never even left the medical bay.There were so many buttons too. A few even flashed or flickered. She eyed the door, squinted, sat on her hands and eyed the door again. One toggle blinked neon green. It made a sizzling noise when she touched it.

“Did it get you?”

She squeaked and twisted to face the doorway. Her hand dropped like a stone away from the instruments. A man stood just inside the room. He looked like a male version of her sister.

“I’m Doctor Faddle.”

“Fa---Hi. I’m sorry.”

“They are pretty tempting.” He wandered past the bench where she perched, hands in her lap and eyes forward. “It looks like you’re in your sixth month of pregnancy, Miss Livingston. How are you feeling?”

“I’m not used to a humanoid doctor.”

“Understood. We are a dying breed. Mercur has an abundance of scientists, you’ll find.” He leaned forward and faked a conspiratorial tone. “My parents were so disappointed. They hoped I’d find a career in planetary science or microbiotics.”

“That’s funny.”

“Thank you.”

“My sister’s a xenobiologist.” It was the only big word she knew off hand. “She’s married.”

“And you?”

“Single.”

“I meant what do you do?” He smiled, and picked up a scanner. “Are you in the sciences?”

“Not exactly.”

“Do we know who the father is?”

She blinked at him.

“A best guess?”

“There’s only one person the timing works with.”

“But?”

“It’s complicated.”

“We live in an intergalactic society, Miss Livingston. It usually is complicated.” He set the scanner down and picked up a long, twisty piece of plastic. The end boasted a knob the size of a marble that blinked very slowly from pink to green. “Open.”

“Excuse me?” She crossed her legs and gave him the evil glare she usually reserved for Mur.

“Your mouth, please.”

“OH. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh.”

He stuck the bulb against the back of her throat, and she felt a little tickle. It radiated from the spot long after he removed the thing, tingling down her spine and out across her middle. Zora closed her mouth and watched him put the little wand away. It had its very own sleek, leather bag.

“I have to pee.”

“Yes. Just let me get you the collection instructions.”

“The what-y?”

He turned around and grinned. She’d always thought she cornered the market on evil looks, but this Faddle fellow had her beat hands down. His expression sent wicked shivers of terror right down her already tingling spine. He spoke again, very slowly and without losing the glint in his eye. “Collection. Instructions.”

“Aw shit.”

****

She waited in the lobby with Murray while they processed the DNA. She didn’t speak, and Mur didn’t ask. They just sat there following the lines on the carpet with their eyes and not talking.

By the time the doctor called her into his office, her legs were trembling. He had a desk bigger than her cot on the Slug One, too many pictures on the walls, and almost as many plants in pots as you could see through the giant ass window behind his chair. She sat opposite him and fiddled with the extra fabric on her new dress. At least Mercur had shopping. They said they didn’t do tourism, but the mall had instantly refuted that claim.

“Well, Miss Livingston,” Faddle began and Zora went stiff as a board. Somehow, he made his voice sound exactly like her secondary school biology teacher. “I have your DNA results.”

“Did I pass?”

He lifted one eyebrow at her and then checked the data pad.

“Well, that depends.”

“On?”

“I think we can safely say the father was a human.”

“Oh thank god.” She leaned forward and dropped her face into her palms. Thank god. She felt a rush as the tension swept aside. The baby was Iggy’s. Life could go on.

“But there is a small complication.”

“What?” Her heart stopped. The good feeling wafted away and a sense of impending horror replaced it. She knew it. The baby was all messed up. “Is it okay? Is it healthy? Is something wrong with it?”

“No. No, Miss Livingston. The baby is fine. Healthy and growing appropriately.”

She wanted to say thank god again, but he still looked like someone was pinching his special places. “So what is it?”

“It’s nothing life threatening. The baby appears to be a normal, healthy humanoid. I can even tell you the gender if you like.”

“Later. What’s wrong with it?”

Doctor Faddle ran a hand through his thinning hair. He made a different kind of face, one she’d only ever seen on landlords or bill collectors. It told her she was about to get what was coming to her, and she didn’t like it one bit.

“You said the father was human.”

“Yes. The DNA sample was 99.97 percent human which insists on both parents having human DNA.”

“But?”

“But .03 percent of the DNA classified as other.”

“Other?” She had a feeling she knew exactly what other he meant. Crantok’s horribly overdeveloped spawning ability had won over .03 percent of her baby. “But, it’s only  .03 percent, right?” How much of a difference could that possibly make?

“Right.” He blinked at her, and she had a feeling she’d missed something important. Something vital had slid just past her radar. “Of course.” He slipped his data pad across the desk. The smile didn’t falter. “Perhaps you’d like to have a look at the images?”

Next Episode

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Episode Twenty-One: DNA