HOW TO READ THE SERIAL

SPACE SLUGS, can be found in the BOOK ONE tab.

To read Book Two, Slug Opera, please look to the table of contents in the sidebar.

7/27/12

Episode Twenty-Four: Revelations


Iggy’s grip on her elbow kept her from strangling Tinaria, but only just. When the woman reached out to pat Zora’s belly, he almost got the elbow to his face. Tinaria’s mouth moved constantly. Sound had to be coming out, but all Zora could hear was a rushing in her ears and the distant pounding of her own heart.
The blue lips stretched into a wide smile and a wicked glint sparked in the woman’s eyes. The roaring died. Sound crashed back in as Tinaria’s gaze fixed on Ignatius. “Is THIS the father?”
Zora jerked toward her, intent on murder. She only managed to lunge an inch from Iggy’s side. He’d suddenly developed superhuman strength. Android strength. He was channeling her brother-in-law, perhaps? His voice was cool enough, as level as Rook’s.
“Yes,” he said. “I am.”
Zora stared at the ceiling. A dancer leaned dangerously far out from the top floor, gyrating and oblivious. Their partner dragged them to safety before the force fields came into play.
“Well, Zora,” Tinaria simpered. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”
“Nope.” A trio of Bomorians ascended the hover stairs, laughing and staggering from step to step.
“I am the Emperor Ignatius Superious,” Iggy said. “The first.”
Tinaria’s mouth flopped open. She made repetitive choking noises that went a long way toward soothing Zora’s panic. She felt a grin stirring somewhere beneath the icy terror in her tummy. Or possibly, it was just the baby rolling about.
 “Zora, dear.” Ignatius turned her just enough that she had to face him. He smiled, but the look in his eyes had too many layers to be reassuring. “You looked tired. Shall we?”
She nodded and pressed her lips together.
“You’ll have to excuse us.”
Zora grinned at Tinaria and let the Emperor lead her away. She almost forgot about her predicament until her partner headed for the front doors instead of their table. Her feet stuttered. She tossed a look over one shoulder and tried to catch Murray’s attention or even Rook’s. The throng was too dense. Iggy pulled her along without chance of reprieve, and she had a sinking feeling they were heading for a confrontation instead of a moonlight stroll.
A narrow deck trimmed the dance club, stretching all around the outside and even spiraling up to the higher levels. Ignatius steered her around the first corner and out toward the water. He didn’t hurry, and his grip on her elbow eased to a gentle touch. The Mercur moons danced over the waves, making the whole sea sparkle and flare against the horizon.
“I’m sorry.” She couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“Is it true?” He dropped her elbow and leaned against the railing, gazing out at the water before turning a tight smile in her direction.
She turned to the side and stretched the fabric tight across her belly, revealing her big secret to Iggy, the ocean, and the moons it resembled.
“Not that,” he said. His eyes drifted to her midsection, but his expression registered little. “You are good at many things, Zora, but keeping secrets from me isn’t one of them.”
“You knew?”
“Not who the father is.” His tone said he still didn’t. His eyes dared her to own up. “Is it me?”
“Yes, but—”
“Really?” He pushed away from the railing and nearly bowled her over. “It is mine?”
“Yeah, but—” She squinted at him. He’d bent forward and now examined her middle at closer range. “Ignatius?”
“I hoped,” he said. “But when you didn’t say anything, and kept not saying anything.”
“Right, but you should know—”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” He stood back up so fast she stumbled away. His face shifted back and forth from delight to concern. She watched his eyebrows dance, up and down. It would have been funny in another situation.
“I wasn’t sure.”
“Ah.” He stepped away from her. Physically put distance between them. “There is another man.”
“No. I mean, there was, but it was before we—before you and I—you know, before.”
“And you were hoping it was him?”
“No!”
They held still and stared at one another. Laughter rattled in the distance, and the sea slapped a soft rhythm closer by. She felt lighter with the truth floating between them, but also fragile somehow, as if he could shatter her any second.
When he spoke, his voice barely reached above a whisper. “What now?”
“I don’t know.” She bit her lip to keep it from trembling, but her eyes watered and gave her away.
Ignatius nodded once and then wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. Zora melted into the embrace. Her shoulders sagged and she let him support her full weight. He still whispered, but with more force behind it now. “It’s going to be fine, Zora. We’ll be fine.”
“Will we?”
“Of course.” He patted her on the back. “We’ll get you the best doctor in the galaxy. The best hospital. Once the baby’s born we’ll have the clones, all my resources. If I can’t find a good school, I’ll bring in teachers, experts, advisers, whatever the little guy needs!”
“Girl.” She straightened her spine and wriggled out of his grasp. “It’s a girl.” A girl that she suddenly had to share, that his churning brain was already picking out schools for. A girl with three arms and, if she was lucky, her mother’s hair.
“That’s delightful!”
She could see his plans shifting, adjusting to the news, but still very much at work.
“I don’t feel good.”
“We’ll need more tailors,” he said. “Daughter of the Emperor.”
“And me.”
“Hmm?”
“I need to lie down.” She said it twice before he snapped out of it.
“Are you okay? Is the baby fine? Let’s go inside.  Is she okay?”
“I want to go back to the ship.”
“Of course. I’ll get us a car.”
“Cab.”
“Should we phone a doctor? Maybe there’s a doctor here?”
Zora started back toward the street with an Emperor scurrying at her heels. She came around the corner at a trot, stuck out one arm like a flag and whistled loud enough to stop time. A hover cab dipped out of traffic and slid to a halt, sideways, in front of the club. The side door slid open.
I’m going back to the ship.” She stared at him until he got the idea.
“Zora, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
You go tell Murray and Rook that I’m fine, everything is fine, and I was just tired. I’ll see you all when you get back.”
She didn’t wait for the protest to escape his lips. Baby belly or not, she could still hop into a cab on her own. She could still get the door shut fast enough to keep an Emperor out. She didn’t wait for the cabbie to ask, just hollered her destination and watched Ignatius argue with no one.
He shrank for a moment, and then the cab turned and a wall of buildings replaced the view. Teachers. Tailors. He had everything covered. She tapped a curt beat against the cab wall with her nails. Everything except where the mother fit in. Everything except what she might want.
Not that she had a clue what that was. She’d just expected to be asked her opinion, in particular when it had to do with her baby.
Her foot joined in on the tapping. Granted, the baby was half his—not quite half his. Maybe she should tell him that little gem right away. Maybe, he wouldn’t be able handle it. Even if he could, it might be a good idea to establish right out of the gate that their parental ownership wasn’t exactly equal. If they were going to pick out a school, by god…well, she didn’t know of any schools. She still wanted some damn input.
The cab had stopped. They hovered just outside the hangar bay and the cabbie stared at her over the seat. Some instinct in his amphibious brain had held his tongue, had warned him not to interrupt the crazy lady. She snorted and rolled her eyes to cement his impression. Then she tossed a handful of cred chits forward and scrambled out of the vehicle.
She’d hoped Iggy would be happy, hadn’t she? She just hadn’t expected him to act like—what? Her steps hammered the ship’s ramp. She stormed through the open hatch and headed for the bridge. She hadn’t expected him to act so much like, like a damn man. That was it. Ignatius had always been different, better somehow.
It was her baby. She’d pick out the damned school. All she needed was a computer and a few minutes alone. She burst into the bridge and flew toward the console, surprising the hell out of the pirates lounging around the room.
They all froze and stared at one another. Pirates on the ship, on the bridge, hacking the computers by the look of it. Zora held her breath. She considered a quick spin, a dart back toward the doorway. The hatch had been open. Shit. She’d waltzed right on in in the middle of a raid.
“Well now,” the drawling voice behind her said it all. Way to late to run, then.
She turned to face him instead. Tall, dark, deadly handsome. “You must be Zander.”
“Well now.” Even his smile was vicious. “This ought to make things much easier.”

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7/13/12

Episode Twenty Three: Dancing


Murray’s club was on the water all right. The whole building floated three docks, two loading ramps, and one long gangway beyond the shore, bobbing on the Mercur sea and lit up like a supernova. The ocean glowed with the swarms of feathery macro plankton, and Zora scooted a little closer to the center of the gangway at the sight of thousands of zappy little tendrils. She remembered the devil plankton’s stings, and glared at Murray behind Ignatius’ back.

They walked as two pairs, Mur and Rook arm in arm to the left, and Ignatius serving as her own enthusiastic escort. Despite his spacer garb, the Emperor moved as usual with a grace and courtesy that Zora thought she might never get used to. He’d helped her from the cab, offered his arm and a gentle bow in her honor. If her nerves weren’t gnawing at her spinal cord, she might have been dancing on air.

As it was, her hands shook. Her knees wobbled, and the baby suddenly seemed to have discovered its extra arm. The repeated jabs to her bladder were new, at least, and made her feel possessed and even more out of control than normal. The gangway swayed, pressing her closer against Ignatius’ side, and his arm tightened on hers, both steadying and unnerving her.

The club’s exterior blazed with colored lighting, shifting advertisements making wild promises about the fun hiding inside. Considering Mercur’s scientific population, Zora doubted the claims, but the idea of a party went a ways toward steadying her. This was her territory, her scene, if a somewhat muted version. By the time they sauntered through the blinking entrance, she stood firmer, walked with her customary swagger, and clutched at Iggy’s arm more for sport than balance.

Inside, a wall of undulating bodies packed the first of four dance floors. These rose toward the high ceiling in succession, each slightly smaller than the last, each more brilliantly lit than the one below it, and all connected but a spiral of floating disc steps that  blinked in colored series in time to the music, bobbling in mid air when not supporting a dancer drifting up or down between floors.

Only the bravest reached the top floor, a spinning octagon that rocked and threatened to toss its occupants to the next level down.

“I hope they have a safety field,” Murray shouted into the cacophony. It reached Zora, only a few feet away, as a muted whisper.

“Sure they do.” Zora nodded and pointed to the nearest force-field projector. “Regulations.”

Murray pulled a pinched expression and scanned the room’s perimeter as if her straight-laced science set might have missed a projector and put them all at risk. Doubtful. They probably had installed backups, just to be safe.

“Shall we find a table?” Ignatius leaned in close to her ear. He still had to shout, but the gesture worked in other ways, and when he led her off again through the crowd, Zora fought down a fit of tingles and hormones that merged with the back beat and musical vibrations and promised a night to remember.

If she could work up the courage to talk to him.

Their baby poked her in the bladder again, a sharp stab that felt judgmental somehow. It wouldn’t be too hard, would it? He obviously liked her—that had never been a secret. He’d followed her into space, showered her with attention, and fathered her child…mostly.

Their child.

She shivered and followed him through the crowd. Tables and disck chairs ringed the room. The seating area had four levels as well, alcove rings that allowed the diners to watch the action and provided a narrow aisle for servers and staff to navigate the throng. Rook found an empty table on the second level, and they settled in.

A bot set into the wall took their orders. Zora asked it for a Solar Vesper, the most exotic non-alcoholic beverage she could remember, and prayed it didn’t give her away. She watched the nearest dancers while the others rattled off drinks into the blinking bot’s speaker.

The music dropped an octave and slowed in tempo, pulsing through the club’s floor. Zora turned away from the gyrations on the floor and caught Ignatius watching her. His smile widened, and his eyes sparkled mischief. He held out one hand and raised an eyebrow. “Dance?”

She didn’t trust her voice. Pregnancy hormones kept her far too close to emotional tears these days. Instead she placed her palm against his and stood, allowing him to lead her down the aisle to the nearest opening. They swirled out into the fray, guided by the Emperor’s hand at her back, his fingers twined with hers, and the steady gaze that locked them together.

Zora kept her arm bent at just the right angle to prevent any contact with her midsection. She’d have rather snuggled in, but the new shirt did a great job of disguising her figure. She felt brave in Iggy’s arms, brave enough to share her secret, but she fancied doing it somewhere private, imagined they could find a reason for a walk alone on the way home.

He turned her round and round. His look sparked and stirred her memories of their night together. Ignatius would make a fabulous father. Could she convince him that he wanted to? That .03 percent meant nothing at all?

He squeezed her hand. She sighed and looked into his eyes. The music faded into the background, the club, the dancers, the flashing lights dimmed in comparison. Iggy’s arm pulled her closer. He leaned in, and a shrill voice howled her name.

The music stopped. Dancers shifted and traded partners while the song changed. Zora turned her head from side to side and frowned at the crowd.

“ZorrrrrA!” The screech continued. “Is that you?” A blue head popped up over the top of the dancers'. It fell back just as quickly and then lifted into view a few feet closer and to the right. “Zor!”

“Uh oh.” She shuffled back and bumped into Ignatius.

“A friend?” His question held a note of concern.

“I think so.” She squinted and waited for the woman to bounce into view again. Instead, the crowd burst apart and an Azrulan debutant stumbled forward, using one blue arm to clear her path and the other to wave insanely in Zora’s direction. The woman wore a strip of fabric wound from her hips to her shoulders, a pair of thigh high boots with bright pink, light up edging, and a feathery headband. She squealed like a dolphin and rushed at them. “Tinaria,” Zora said. She braced for impact.

“Zora, oh MY god. What are you doing here? How long has it been and who is this?” The Azrulan’s mouth produced a steady river of conversation that rarely required anything resembling an answer. Tinaria could happily carry on without interference, and she would barring any overt effort at interruption.

Zora smiled and nodded, rolled her eyes for Ignatius’ benefit, and waited for her friend pause for a breath.  
Instead Tinaria launched. The blue arms folded her into a hug that dragged them both together. She squeezed, still rambling into Zora’s hair, and then froze. For a single breath, the Azrulan fell completely, utterly silent. Zora pulled back. She shook her head, pleaded with her eyes, begged for mercy.

Fat chance.

Tinaria’s mouth fell open. The wordy vortex yawned, stretched wide enough to swallow the club, the sea, the whole bloody planet. She inhaled a long hissy breath, and Zora knew, long before the woman blew her whistle, that she was sunk. “Oh. My. God. You’re pregnant?”


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