Tevun-Krus #115 - Ring Worlds (A Different Earth, Part 3)

The Road to Kvell Is Paved With Good Retention - A Story by @BrianMullin0

The Road to Kvell Is Paved With Good Retention

by BrianMullin0

Fredwina and Sally floated aimlessly in their multipurpose xenobiological scrubbers and skin reconstruction chamber. Swirling around them were what they had called 'space sprites,' but known to Big O Station 12989 scientists as interstellar gas cooties (IGCs).

Their knowledge of space life forms was millions of years old and tens of thousands of civilizations vast. The consensus on IGCs was elegantly simple: unknown, unclassifiable, and unstable. In other words, they knew nothing useful. Which meant they viewed the sprites and our mop & broom ladies as dangerous.

Which, of course, would have been perfectly justified had they known the fate of the last space-going pseudo-planet they'd just visited. They didn't know squat, of course. Which means (to Freddie and Sal) that they were being downright rude. The sprites could have cared less. Their unique exochemical composition was hard at work eroding the sealant between the glass and metal chambers. Work that was completely unnoticed by Big O's scientists.

Because the Station's current rulers are unbelievably cheap (cost-effective, as 12989's PR people spin it) our ladies share the same chamber, which is not uncomfortable if you don't plan on doing much stretching – or deep breathing. Fredwina, whose last meal consisted of some vegetarian dish that she didn't much care for ('I'm a carny-vore, not some bloody rabbit!"), belched and farted simultaneously.

It was far too much added pressure. Factor in 12989's centrifugal, centripetal and Coriolis forces all pulling on or puling over or poking at each other, and the cost-cutting measures, and the chamber simply cracked like a hatching Kzinti chicken egg, sending our ladies sloshing to the floor in a most unladylike manner.

"Oy, Sally!"

Sally busily spat out the blue tinted water, sneezed up more, then removed her hair net before shaking her hair free of curly patches that appeared to be skin. She felt a bit woozy. She picked up the patch that was stuck in her single braid, and it was only when she saw the bright pink imprint of her bargain brand lipstick on it that she knew it really was bits o' skin.

"Sal! Are you pucker? I'm pucker, I guess. Last thin' I remember is all the stars an' the sprites, and that piss-ant planet blowin' up! Those stupid bastards!"

"Stupid bastards, most everyone! I remember the suit gittin' real 'ot, like the menopause, and the sound of sizzlin'..."

Fredwina shivered, and began to tear up. She splish-splashed across the floor and hugged her friend tightly. "I thought we were goners fer sure"

"Hah!" said Sally, "It'll take a lot more than an explodin' meteor to take out us tough old birds!"

Fredwina made her hand into a fist and held it out to Sally. "As the damn teenagers say, 'Turd!'"

"Ah dinna think it's 'Turd,' Freddie. No matter. 'Turd!'" Their fists bumped. "Ach, it's filthy in here, Sal."

"An' wet, Freddie. Very wet and nasty-like. Let's get to it!"

They left the med lab and found a supply closet, along with a high-tech broom and self-drying mop with collapsible bucket. What? How hard did you think it would be for two determined English cleaning women to find a mop and broom on...wherever it is they've gotten to this time - oh, right! – Big O Station 12989.

They were putting the broken glass into piles in the lab's far corners when Tzznfft-0i-oi, the exobiology intern from Galaxy Name-too-hard-to- pronounce came to check on the two simmering specimens in the scrubbing chambers. Never having seen a small, non-human multipede wearing spectacles and a lab coat before, Fredwina thwacked him, sending it several score feet away with the broom.