Scenes From Space

Chapter Thirty-Six: A Sweet Moment

We pulled back up to headquarters late at night. Graham had stayed up to welcome us back, but said we could debrief in the morning. I snuck off the ship once we docked and everyone else had settled in for the night. The base never really, truly shut down, but it did get dark and quiet. Graham met me in the hallway outside the docking bays.

"I thought I told you to go to bed," Graham whispered softly. I grabbed his metal hand and started to pull him to the mess.

"I disregarded that order, Handler Graham," I whispered back. He rolled his eyes but let himself be pulled.

The doors to the mess never locked but the kitchens did. I used Boo's code to get in. The kitchens were huge, polished, set-ups. There would be a fridge unit followed by a countertop, followed by an oven or cooktop, followed by a sink. That pattern repeated over and over again in various sizes meant for different species. I led Graham back to a smaller, humans-sized set-up that Boo said we could use.

"What are we doing here?" Graham whispered.

"Boo taught me how to do something and I thought I could share it with you," I half explained.

"Okay, and," Graham tried to lead me. He had one his eyebrows raised and his arms waved like, yeah, we're in a kitchen, so what? I just smiled and pulled several things out of the fridge, including a ball of dough, a fruit that resembled blueberries and a thing that looked like a star fruit but was supposed to taste like lemon.

"We're going to make a late night snack," I explained. I pulled a circular tin out from a cupboard. Graham looked down at the tin in my hands and back up to my smile. He gently pulled the tin out from hands and set it down on the countertop before cupping my face gently between his hands. It was the softest, most gentle kiss. He leaned his forehead against mine when his lips left mine.

"Okay, yes, late night snack," he whispered.

The pie looked sloppy when we were finished. Neither one of us was really very good at rolling out the dough or shaping the crust. Despite the appearance, it did taste like a blueberry lemon pie with a butter crust, and it was so tasty. It was delicious when we woke up a cycle later and finished the pie, cuddled together up in bed.

The country roads outside of the city Hedgertay on the planet Jade were windy as hell. We, Human Delegate Troy Goldstein and I, were speeding away with Kuzzon was right on our tails.

"Why?" I asked Troy. Troy was a human slave, taken from earth as a teenager in the 2000s. He fought his way through several slave arenas, making money, and eventually buying his way out. After Troy was out, he made some really good investments, made more money and got into politics. Now he was in trouble because he was being too inspiring and the human population on Jade was getting too rowdy.

"Why what?" Troy shot back. He was gripping onto the door with one hand and the other was braced against the dash. I took a turn around one of the rolling, high grass, covered hills.

"Why did you have a replica classic car built, that you can't drive?" I asked. We were coming up on a turn so I pushed in the clutch and switched gears. I did not like to drive manual transmission. I mean, shit, if I stalled the engine at any point, Kuzzon would catch up to us. The pressure was on. I was literally sweating with anxiety. I hadn't driven, fuck, I hadn't driven anything since Earth.

"I had unlimited funds to live out my dreams," Troy said. "And, I wanted to be James Bond." He paused. "I had every intention of learning to drive stick." I glanced in the review. Kuzzon was still on us.

"Yeah, which Bond car is this?" I asked and sped the fuck up again as we reached a strait and stable portion of road.

"V8 Vantage Volante from The Living Daylights, 1987," Troy said.

"I assume Bond wins at the end of the movie?" I asked.

"Of course, there's plane crash, drugs, the KGB, and Bond is victorious," Troy summed up.

"Great," I said and swung into a turn hard. That was comforting, if Bond could drive this car and get away, we could too.

"I don't suppose there are any secret weapons or gadgets installed by Q in this replica?" I asked.

"No, it's just a car," Troy said, followed by a cuss as I took another turn dangerously. "But it does get up to like 190 miles per hour."

"Okay, and how much farther until we get to this abandoned runway where our exit should be?" I asked. My eyes shifted down to the speedometer which was in kilometers and not miles. I had no idea what the exchange was. The needle was hovering around 130. I slowed for another turn around a hill.

"Take the next right, and we should be like 10 miles away," Troy said. I slowed way down as to not miss the opportunity to turn on the right, right road.

"There," he said with his finger pointing at an unmarked line of pavement in the distance. I was going to have to practically stop to make that turn. Kuzzon hadn't made it around the hill yet, so we probably had time. I sped up a little and back down again, trying to coast down to maybe 15 miles per hour. I made the turn but Kuzzon was closing in. I shifted to second and increased the speed. I shifted to third and got the needle up to 55 km. Fourth, to fifth, fifth to six, and we were flying. The needle was up to 290 kilometers.

Troy had been right. This road led straight onto an abandoned runway for old planes. I could see the runner up ahead. In the rearview, I could see that Kuzzon made the turn. I kept up the high speed for just a little longer, before starting to make my way back down the gears. I turned sideways and let the engine stall. We skidded to a stop with the passenger door facing the runner. Troy bolted out. Kuzzon let loose a blaster on the Aston Martin. The car rocked back and forth.

I climbed over and leapt out of the passenger side door as Kuzzon took another shot. The car rocked again. The runner's start up sequence began. I jumped up the small ramp and into the runner, grasping at the netting of the small cargo area to keep myself on my feet.

Danyl shot off. I gripped tighter at the netting as my body responded to the atmosphere and gravity changes. Troy was heaving in the co-pilot's chair; his head was between his legs.

"We good?" Ben's voice asked over the runner's radio.

"Guinevere and Troy are both on board and uninjured," Danyl responded. I took a deep breath and tried to calm down. That mission had got to me. Holy shit. I wasn't qualified to do any of that. It was pure luck that I managed to drive that car. I could've gotten us killed or captured at any time. I slid slowly down onto the bench and sort of let my body collapse into itself. I couldn't shake the anxiety away. It lingered on the RAFO. The anxiety lingered all the back to headquarters. The anxiety didn't go away as I fell asleep in Graham's arms. I had nightmares of claws and car crashes, and a persistent red light.