Starfarers!

Chapter 1 - pt 2

"We're on our way to deliver it as we speak," said Jim, smiling the kind of courteous smile used only when you really didn't wish to be smiling at all.

The reason for such a smile was because the lifeform before Jim and Liz was absolutely hideous, or at least it was by their standards. A bulbous shit-colored air sack, in the center of another air sack located on top of what must have been shoulders, inflated and deflated repeatedly. Below it, sticking out of its greasy, round, mostly-naked body, peered four beady eyes. They seemed excessively glossy and did not blink. They never blinked. A chubby two-fingered hand waved through the air, its dirty half-sleeve rippling with the motion along with some fleshy nodes hanging between its severely bowed legs. A slit in its thick belly opened, right above said nodes, and it gutturally burped out the phrase: "Braaalalalala ghaghagha oukouky blurg blubblub bluuurg blubblub frok-hmph hiffny."

Seated in the rounded leather chairs within their ship's olive-walled conference room, Jim and Liz tried to retain the most professional and polite expressions possible. The nanite translators implanted in their ear canals collected the verbal data, struggled with the harsh language, reconfigured it momentarily, and finally told their brains, "Thank you again."

In a blink, the hideous lifeform vanished. Had the human eye been any quicker at perceiving its surroundings, it would have seen how the sick color from the alien's scantily-clad skin was the first to be washed down into the squat pedestal of the conference room, followed next by the alien's unpleasant outline, rippling inward until a tiny spark of rather attractive blue-white light was the last to remain. But to the normal human eye, the lifeform was gone in only a blink—a mere second that was waited on for too long.

"Holy hell," sighed Liz, completing letting her posture go at the same time as her partner. She ran a hand through her tangled hair, shaping it out and up. "Never again. No more Berlalarian clients. It takes forever to understand what they're saying. And I didn't know what I was looking at. Do you talk to the face-sack or the eyes in its rotund trunk-of-a-body?"

"I sort of just blurred my eyes and looked through it," said Jim. It appeared that his eyes were still blurred, glued to the wall that the lifeform had just stood in front of. "Be thankful our holopad's a little fuzzy. Just imagine what that thing would look like with the newer models installed. Or, worse yet, in person."

"I'll barf imaging that. However, I am beyond pleased to know that we don't have to deliver the hunk of rock to it. Just ditch the thing in some 'holy' desert, call him once more to say the deed is done, and we're off with the payment. That's it, yeah?"

"It in a nutshell...yeah. Just getting the slab in the first place was the only hard part." Jim shifted his glare to the stone, sitting in the corner at the other end of the room. It was four feet long, a foot-and-a-half wide, and maybe eighteen inches deep. Their contract had stated that it was a Berlalarian holy relic, stolen from one of the planets their species uses in a galaxy-wide religious pilgrimage, but it looked like any ordinary rock to Jim. Granted, it did have some weathered etchings on it—either some ancient, long-forgotten script or an old, cluttered game of alien Pictionary—but, to Jim, it was still just a rock. "Damn thing."

Liz stared into her lap, fidgeting with a black ring she kept on her left hand. Around the ship, it was on her finger constantly. Of the ship, when the red gloves went on, she left it behind for safe keeping. It had a thick band and a sharp bird-like beak that raised up slightly, following the curve of her fist when she made one. "Guess it's smooth sailing from here," Liz said, pivoting the ring one way and the next before letting it be. She sighed and pushed herself up out of her seat, unzipping her suit down to mid-chest level, a clear statement of I'm Done for the Day, which often also meant the same thing as I Need a Drink Now or even I May Need Many, Many Drinks Now. "I'm going to pour a glass of Flawquian ale and stare out the window until it looks like we're flying backward. Want any?"

"Not this time. I should sleep. That gravity was...just brutal." He slunk down in the chair a bit more, extended his legs, crossing one over the other, and began to rhythmically rub his eyes. "No more Berlalarian clients and no more planets that add fifty pounds to every feather, or whatever the fuck the ratio was."

"Agreed. I'll wake you when we've arrived." The door to the room slid open with the tiniest whoosh as Liz stepped in front of it. She looked down. There was a cat in her way. "Hi, Watson."

"Meow," said Watson, "meow, meow." He sat in the center of the doorway, looking up at Liz from an angle that made her look incredibly disproportionate. While Liz had heard him say something that sounded close enough to "meow, meow, meow," Watson had in fact tried to say exactly what he was thinking, which was, I demand that these fucking doors be fixed to accommodate the presence of my short stature. I've being trying to get in the fucking room for over five goddamn minutes. My food bowl has yet to be refilled since I saved your sorry souls. All you did was shake the shitty morsels on the edge into the middle, and that was hardly satisfying. I require more varied forms of sustenance, preferably those noodles you make in that heat box in the kitchen.

Liz stooped low and reached out a hand.

What are you doing?

She wiggled her fingers, moving them toward Watson's face.

Don't. Stop that, I'm pissed at you.

And then she pet his head, massaging his felt-like cheeks and even getting a couple fingers working to scratch the inside of his ear.

Watson's body betrayed him, and he purred.

"No more screwing around in the future, understand?" said Liz as she messaged the cat's face and stroked his fur. "If we die, who's going to feed you?"

That's the only reason I saved you, he thought, leaning into her hand. He raised his front foot with pleasure and began to shut his eyes. But I suppose it's also worth having you around so long as you—

Liz suddenly stood, causing Watson to stumble in place a little in the direction where a hand had just been. "Just think about that the next time our lives are in your paws, alright?"

What the hell? You just fucking stopped doing the one fucking thing I was about to warn you to never stop fucking doing. You vile temptress. Get back down here.

"Otherwise, I'll boot you off the ship. Okay, kitten?"

"Not without my consent," mumbled Jim from his chair.

Liz widened her eyes at the cat, silently showing her seriousness. But then she smirked, bent down, and scratched his head once more to lighten the mood. Whatever Watson's thoughts were, his body forced him to purr again at the added contact. Like the first time, though, it was short-lived. Liz walked off down the white-walled hallway, her boots clicking on the orange floor. "We're upping your training regimen as a punishment, by the way," she said from over her shoulder, right before turning a corner and vanishing from sight.

The cat sat in the doorway, unmoved, damning his feline emotions that mixed awkwardly with his genetically-modified ones. In the conference room, Jim's long legs were stiffly sprawled out from his chair and his upper body was tucked all together. His chest heaved up and down steadily, taking his head and shoulders along for the lethargic ride with every breath. It looked inviting. When Watson considered joining the man, the door shut with a soft whoosh.

Fucking doors.

***