2. Kara
2
KARA
Kara looked down at her ticket again. She had been shaken by the encounter with her assistant—deeply shaken. Even now, almost a year later, she was still uncomfortable when she remembered it.
She hadn’t seen J’orn again, though she’d heard through the Mother Ship grapevine that he was training to be in the Kindred Elite Espionage Corps. From what she could tell, that was like the Kindred version of the Special Forces—black ops soldiers who were trained for all kinds of covert missions.
The thought of her sweet, gentle giant of an assistant becoming an assassin or a spy made her sad. That wasn’t J’orn, she thought. He was such a sweetheart—so kind to everyone. She couldn’t imagine him hurting or killing anyone.
“Excuse me, may I see your ticket?”
The flight attendant’s voice broke her train of thought and Kara realized she had finally reached the head of the line—which was now non-existent since she was the very last person to board the shuttle to Paradise Prime.
“Er, yes—here you go,” she said, holding out the silver piece of foil that was covered in black alien markings. Thanks to her shot of Translation Bacteria she’d been able to read most of it, though there was a part near the end that she couldn’t quite make out, no matter how hard she tried.
Still, this shuttle—which left from the Mother Ship every few days—was the only way to get to Paradise Prime and she’d never heard anyone complain about it. She was just glad she’d been able to scoop up this last-minute ticket when her boss, Commander Sylvan, had insisted she take some vacation time that had been accruing.
She’d gotten a whole package, actually. The shuttle ticket was linked with accommodations at an all-female resort located between the beautiful purple Paradisian seas and the snow-capped mountains of Paradise Prime. It sounded like the perfect place to forget both her failed marriage and her ex-assistant—who she still thought about a lot more than she wanted to.
“This way,” the Paradisian flight attendant said to her. She was bipedal and humanoid and if it wasn’t for the third eye in the middle of her forehead and her shiny gold skin, she might have looked human.
“Oh, thank you.” Kara followed her through the docking tunnel into the shuttle itself. They went through the first class section which was incredibly plush. Everything was decorated in dove gray with pearl accents and the seats looked big enough for two people. There were wide, glowing holographic screens that popped up when you pressed a button and from the glimpse she got, Kara saw there were plenty of choices for in-flight entertainment. Nice.
Of course, she couldn’t have afforded the first-class tickets even if she hadn’t booked last minute. The Kindred paid really well, but she wasn’t a millionaire. But as they passed through a curtained doorway, she saw the second class section was nice too. The seats were a little smaller and there were more of them, but there was still plenty of legroom and smaller glowing screens to watch a movie or a show on. Kara wondered what kind of shows the Paradisians had—she was interested to learn about their culture.
The flight attendant kept on moving to the back of the shuttle and they passed through another curtained doorway into the third class accommodations. These were much more crowded and the seats were considerably smaller. Kara wondered uneasily which seat was hers and if the seatbelt harness would fit over her ample hips.
But the flight attendant kept on walking, not stopping until she reached yet another curtained doorway.
“Your seat is through here, Miss,” she said to Kara. “You’re in 521 B.”
“Okay. Thank you.” Kara nodded and went through the dove-gray curtain since the attendant was gesturing for her to do so.
To her surprise, the fourth-class accommodations looked like first class all over again with large, cushy seats and plenty of legroom. But there was something strange about these seats—some of them appeared to be occupied by two people at once.
Kara passed a large alien male who had blue skin and a forked beard. There was a pink-skinned woman who didn’t look like the same species as him perched on his knees. A little further on she saw a Paradisian male with shiny gold skin with a woman who looked like she might be his wife sitting between his legs. What was going on here? Had the shuttle service sold some of these seats twice?
With growing apprehension, Kara made her way down the aisle. At last, she came to the very last row—521. There, sitting in the seat closest to the aisle was a tall, lumpy alien who looked like he was made from oozing, olive green oatmeal. He wasn’t wearing any clothing except a kind of bright pink Speedo that barely contained his bumpy privates.
Sitting beside him in the window seat was a big male wearing a black long-sleeved shirt. Kara couldn’t see his face because he was looking out of the shuttle window and there was some kind of semi-transparent divider between the seats which was already raised.
“Er…” Kara looked up at the numbers above the seats. They read “521 A and B” and “522 A and B” but there were only two seats.
Hoping there was some mistake, she looked at the seats on the other side of the aisle. But they were labeled as “523 A and B” and “524 A and B” and both were occupied.
A horrible suspicion began growing in her mind. Was she supposed to sit on Mr. Oatmeal alien’s lap? Surely not…
“Hey, sweet thing—are you lost?” It was Mr. Oatmeal, speaking in a thick, burbling voice.
“Oh, uh…” Kara looked down at him uncertainly. “I’m supposed to be in 521 B, but I’m not sure where it is.”
“It’s right here, sugar.” Mr. Oatmeal patted his lap invitingly. But when he lifted his hands from his bare legs, long strings of sticky greenish mucus stretched like snot between them.
Kara had to fight not to gag.
“What—you mean I’m supposed to…to sit on your lap?” she asked faintly, still hoping there was a mistake.
“Of course you are! You know, I booked this seat hoping I’d have a sweet little seatmate like you, but you’re even prettier than I imagined,” Mr. Oatmeal burbled. “Sit right down and make yourself comfortable, darlin’.”
Somehow the Translation Bacteria in her system was making the oatmeal alien sound like a Texas oil baron but it wasn’t funny. He was looking her up and down in such a lascivious way that Kara felt like the plain black, stretchy dress she’d chosen to travel in was see-through! And the lump in his pink speedo was growing alarmingly. Ugh!
“Excuse me, Miss—why haven’t you taken your seat yet?” The flight attendant was suddenly at her shoulder, a frown on her shiny gold face.
“I, uh…this, er, man says I’m supposed to sit on his lap,” Kara said uncertainly. “But that can’t be right—can it?”
“I’m afraid it is. Look—see here? Our Ultra Express Economy seats are always sold with the understanding that you might have a seatmate.” The flight attendant waved the silver foil ticket and pointed to the tiny alien script near the bottom that Kara hadn’t been able to decipher earlier. “That’s why these seats are so cheap.”
Kara began to feel sick. There was no way she could sit on the horny, slimy oatmeal alien’s lap for the four-hour flight to Paradise Prime! She would have to eat the cost of this vacation and just stay home in her suite aboard the Mother Ship for a few days instead.
“I’m sorry,” she said faintly. “But I didn’t know that. I’m afraid I can’t take this flight—I need to get off the shuttle.”
“I’m afraid that’s going to be impossible—we’ve already undocked from the Kindred Mother Ship. In fact, the pilot is just waiting for all the passengers to be seated and strapped in before we enter the first wormhole,” the attendant said, frowning sternly. “So if you’d please take your seat, I’ll let him know we’re all ready to go.”
“But…but I can’t,” Kara exclaimed. The more she looked at the alien in 521 A, the more he looked like he was made out of boogers rather than oatmeal. She just couldn’t sit in a snot-monster’s lap for four hours—she couldn’t.
“Why not, darlin’?” the alien demanded, his lumpy features turning down into a frown. “I promise to keep my hands to myself. Mostly .” He leered at her.
Oh God, this was getting worse and worse! Kara groped for an excuse.
“My dress!” she said, pulling at the stretchy black fabric. “It’s dry-clean only. And I don’t think I’d be able to get your, er…excretions off of it.”
“Excretions? You talkin’ about my slime, darlin’?” Mr. Oatmeal/Snot demanded. “What’s wrong with it? I’m Octobursorian, you know. We’re covered in the finest slime this side of the galaxy!”
“I’m sure it’s lovely but, er, I’m allergic to slime,” Kara said, thinking up a new reason she couldn’t sit in his lap. “Yes—deathly allergic! I could have a reaction and die if I come in contact with it! I really could,” she said, appealing to the flight attendant, who didn’t look in the least convinced.
“Miss,” she said sternly. “The entire shuttle is waiting for you to get strapped in before we can take off. Would you please take your seat?”
“But I really can’t!” Kara protested, her voice going high and tight in protest. Mucus made her sick and the more she looked at Mr. Oatmeal, the more disgusted and nauseated she was. “Isn’t there anywhere else I can sit on the shuttle?”
“No, every seat is full. Now are you going to take your seat or do I need to get some of my fellow attendants to put you in it forcibly?” the attendant demanded. “If I have to do that, I can assure you that the Paradise Peace Keepers will be waiting for you once the shuttle docks. And the penalty for delaying a shuttle or causing a scene during interplanetary transportation is a whole year in jail. Is that what you want?”
“No, of course not!” Kara exclaimed. “But I can’t?—”
“She can sit with me.”
The deep voice was familiar. Kara looked up to see the semi-transparent seat divider between seats 521 and 522 being lowered. Soon a face she knew was revealed.
“J’orn?” she asked blankly. “Is that you?”
It looked like her old assistant…but not. The old J’orn had been clean-shaven—this J’orn had a closely clipped beard. The sharp points of his curving horns had been capped in some kind of black metal and he had tattoos now—she could see one curving up from the open collar of his shirt to cover the side of his neck. He looked…harder somehow, she thought. As though he’d seen a lot of unpleasant things since they’d last been together and it had marked him.
“Kara,” he rumbled and nodded at her. “Did I hear you say you need a different seat?”
“Yes, she does,” the flight attendant said briskly. “Says she’s allergic to slime.” Her tone made it clear she thought Kara was lying.
“Well, she is,” J’orn said mildly. “I happen to know it for a fact—I used to work for her. We always had to be careful she never came in contact with any slime—it might kill her.”
“Oh.” The flight attendant looked at Kara with new respect. “My apologies.”
It miffed Kara that the attendant only believed her because a male backed her up, but she was in no position to be indignant. Also, she was lying through her teeth about the slime—it was probably better not to fight about it.
“Thank you,” she said stiffly. “So if you could please find me a new seat.”
“There’s your seat,” the attendant said briskly, pointing at J’orn. “This gentleman has kindly offered to allow you to sit with him. So please get in his lap and get buckled in so I can tell the captain we can take off. We’re already behind schedule,” she added, giving Kara a severe look.
“Oh, um—all right.” It was going to be awkward as hell sitting in her old assistant’s lap, but Kara couldn’t deny that it was better than sitting on Mr. Oatmeal’s pink, oozing Speedo for four hours.
She tried to find a way to climb over the lump, gooey alien without touching him, but his large, bare, bumpy legs filled the entire gap between his seat and the next where J’orn was sitting and he didn’t seem inclined to move them. In fact, he was giving Kara a sulky, pouting look as though he was angry that she didn’t want to sit in his lap and get slimed.
J’orn clearly saw her predicament—and the flight attendant’s impatience.
“Here,” he said. And half-standing, he leaned over his seatmate’s head and reached for Kara. Before she could protest, he’d wrapped his big hands around her waist and was lifting her clean over seat 521 and its snotty occupant and settling her firmly in his own lap.