I
like the idea of being a weapon. Slick curves and sharp edges sound like the
best way to describe me. And Daddy's boy Horace, yup I had intended to use him
as a shield. If he wasn't willing I'd have used him as a human shield, but the
cards seem to be stacked in my favor; the metaphor will only be figurative. I
showed the kid a blocking stance that would easily let him slice his attacker
given the opportunity.
"I
don't like fighting dirty, and this move would have me stabbing someone in the back!" Horace mimed the
cut in thin air.
"Kid,
this isn't some prize fight you're prepping for. Someone is trying to take your
life, you either stop them or let them. Later you'll get shown some moves to
use when you need to stop an opponent before the fight even starts. But for
now, just focus on staying alive." I placed his knife back in his hand and
back away. Horace returned to his practicing and Geoffrey steps over to my left
side.
"I
take it you feel he'll be utilizing his education soon?" From some unseen
pocket a pair of leather fingerless gloves find themselves at home on his
hands. He tightens his hands into fists, and the leather groans in protest.
"There's
a chance some unwanted guests attempt boarding the vessel. The possibility is a
small one, yet I would rather he be prepared." I pulled the small package
from the side pocket of my pressure suit. "Amy tells me you want me to
have this?"
"Yes.
Don't open it yet. It is an object of special consequence." He folded his
arms behind him, in a posture reminiscent of a skilled martial practitioner.
"So......You
gonna make me wheedle it out of you?" I cock my head and eyebrow at him.
A
sly smile slowly creeps across his face. "In due time, Ms Sinmoral. For
now, I believe you have other matters to attend to."
The
old gent is right. I need to get into character, and narrow down the playlist.
With a nod, I leave the gym and had to my quarters.
I
check my guitar then put on my stage costume. I've got my Slash clothes on; red
and black cotton trousers, red silk shirt, black satin vest, my black cowboy
boots are low heeled, the details stitched in red. I twist one small black
bandanna and tie it around my right bicep, another gets tied in a French Knot around
my neck to hide the scar. For tonight, my long raven hair will hang down
unadorned. Instead of the usual duster, a long robe will be draped on top of
everything else. I've also got a long fluffy boa, after all the show is being
performed by Starla Sky, lead singer of Cloud Nine, and not by the Scarlet
Slash. Man am I gonna be sweaty by the end of the night.
* * *
Sitting
around the table at the opulent dining hall were Marla, Jean-Pierre, Ralph,
May, June, Mad Max, and Sven, the navigator. The last time Sven stepped off
ship was a little more than a year ago, for a thrice cursed job. He's my little
good luck charm, and he hates it. He knows that when he rides along, there's a
chance he won't feel the weightlessness of space again. Dr. Taun, April, and
Trevor are on ship, prepping surgery and keeping the engine hot.
"I
don't like this. Why do you even need me here?" Sven's high pitched voice
reached up another decibel on the last word.
"Shut
up Sven." The routine reply voiced by everyone at the table, except for
the new girls.
"I'm
just saying, I'm no good here. I read star charts! I'm a Navigator, not a
fighter! I'm gonna die, I just know it." The blond, 7 ft, gangly Swede
smacked his forehead on the placemat in front of him.
"Relax
m'bucko. Have I let you die yet?" I wave a waiter over.
"No
Ma'am." The reluctant counter was heard clearly, despite being said into
the tabletop.
"Good
acoustics here." May notices.
"Bring
my a line so I can ring the host and tell him to accept one more for our party."
I order the waiter. With my back to the entrance, I can't see anything, but May
and June can. As the waiter dashes off to find a commline, They begin to
alternate a play by play of the scene behind me.
"A
man with plaid green pearl snap shirt, and tight orange jeans tucked into black
boots trimmed in yellow has just entered the foyer." May started.
June
added, "He's hanging up a wide brimmed, low sloped straw cowboy hat. He's addressing
the host."
"Technicolor
cowboy is reaching into his turquoise vest, and pulling out what appears to be
a holoID, and ribons?" May turned to June.
"Military
emblem perhaps?" June carried on with the report. "The host isn't
moving a muscle. Our guest has returned his credentials to their pocket, and is
shaking a finger at the host.
A
voice carries easily to our ears, above the din of other patrons "Von
Tummy, Maximillian Von Tummy. I'm expected a message from some very important
people."
Just
then our waiter returns, and with flourish, places a simple commlink in front
of me. Detaching only the mic, I begin. "Tell the vibrant fellow in front
of you, that you have his message. He is to join the table of Starla Sky and
company." Without waiting for a response, I close the unit and hold it up
for the waiter to whisk away. May begins to relate the events at the entrance
of the main hall, but I hold up my hand. "There's no need darling, he'll
be here in a moment."
Shortly
the voice of our last member approaches.
"That's
what I thought. I hate to do it, but a man has got to flex his might if he
wants to have anything done. You don't need to worry, I won't turn your name
into the debt collectors. Next time," just as he was being seated at our
table, "next time better be different."
"Hello,
Von Tum, I do hope you don't mind me calling you that."
His
eyes twinkle as he smiles at me. "Of course Shelia, you can call me
anything, just call me."
