8. J’orn
8
J’ORN
J’orn watched her hurry down the aisle with a feeling of deep misgiving. He knew Kara well enough to know how she would react to what she considered an inappropriate or uncomfortable situation. She would run from it—run from him. But there was no way he could get to her with his fucking seatmate still sprawled out and taking up all the room.
“Hey—move, can’t you?” he demanded, glaring down at the other male.
“Hmph?” his seatmate grunted. He was still half asleep—he must have taken some extra breaths of the Dream Gas.
“Wake up!” J’orn didn’t like to poke him—he didn’t want the other male’s slime on his hands. Instead, he leaned closer to the oozing ear hole and shouted it again, “WAKE UP!”
“Huh!” the other male sat bolt upright in his seat and looked around. “What happened? Where am I?” he burbled.
“The shuttle has landed—we’re on Paradise Prime,” J’orn told him. “And I need to get out of my seat—now! So get up.”
But the oozing alien couldn’t be rushed. With a lot of mumbling and grumbling he finally vacated his seat and began to move forward with the rest of the line.
J’orn waited impatiently but since he had been seated at the very end of the shuttle, he was one of the very last people to finally get off. He looked anxiously as he disembarked, scanning the crowded docking area for Kara but she was nowhere to be found.
It was as he had feared—she had given him the slip.