Janet Delane is back - and technology still hates her!
The galaxy is a mess: wars, robot uprisings, Jupiterans making bad holofilms, Plutonians insisting they have a real planet, and Earthlings kissing (which is unhygienic and resembles cannibalism). In the Pelican Nebula, the Cygnoids call a peace conference to announce a non-optional solution: obey them or be subjected to the unthinkable agony of their new weapon, the Civilizer.
The galaxy is a mess: wars, robot uprisings, Jupiterans making bad holofilms, Plutonians insisting they have a real planet, and Earthlings kissing (which is unhygienic and resembles cannibalism). In the Pelican Nebula, the Cygnoids call a peace conference to announce a non-optional solution: obey them or be subjected to the unthinkable agony of their new weapon, the Civilizer.
(Young adult, science fiction, comedy)
THE STAR-CROSSED PELICAN
CHAPTER 1: A PROBLEM WITH THE MENU
I’d been on the bridge of my spaceship for five minutes, and it was snowing. “Computer,” I said irritably, “what do you think you’re doing?”
The computer’s voice managed to be blandly efficient and smug at the same time. “Keeping the ship on course, maintaining life support, and answering unnecessary questions for the benefit of biological life-forms.”
I heard a snicker from Lola, my first officer, the only crew member on the bridge at the moment. “Bridge” seemed like an overly grand term for a space with two elaborate mechanical chairs (mine and the pilot’s), three workstations with regular chairs, and a viewscreen. I still didn’t know what half the buttons on my chair were for.
Lola was filling in at the pilot’s seat. Like all Venuseans, she was surrounded by a colorful aura. Today it was a vibrant pink, which meant she was in a good mood.
I kept my voice level. “Computer, you need to fix the environmental controls. Again.”
“But the snow is picturesque. It’s whimsical. It’s—”
“It’s freezing, and it’s slippery, and it doesn’t belong on a spaceship.”
“With all due respect, Captain, maybe it’s you who doesn’t belong on a spaceship.” The snow continued falling.
The computer was unfriendly in general, but it seemed hostile toward me in particular. Actually, technology in general seemed hostile toward me. Floatcars, hair dryers, and kitchen appliances malfunctioned if I touched them. My ex-boyfriend Pietro, an overrated columnist for the Galactic Times, claimed I had a technology jinx. He thought it was funny to call me “Jam-it” instead of Janet.
I hit a button on the arm of the captain’s chair. “Martian, where are you?” Martian (yes, he’d be happy to explain at length, that really was his name) was the ship’s engineer, and the only one who had any luck reasoning with the computer.
“We’re having a snowball fight in the shuttle bay. Hang on, I’m gonna duck behind the—ow!”
After a brief silence, I asked, “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I think I can stand up. Good thing I don’t need the doctor. I almost knocked her out with a snowball, and now she’s—”
The button blinked several times, and the connection fizzled out.
Lola turned, pulling her long blonde curls out of her face. Her aura muted the effect of the garish uniform, which was in eight clashing colors. “Personally, I prefer a good swordfight, but snowballs will do in a pinch. The whole crew’s been on edge lately.” She didn’t add especially you, but I heard it in her tone. “We’re overdue for shore leave. This trip to Cygnus IV can’t be over fast enough.”
Shore leave sounded heavenly, and our destination didn’t have snow. “Can’t argue with that.”
The ship jolted sideways as a laser blast crackled in front of the viewscreen.
“Damage?” I demanded.
“We weren’t hit.” The computer sounded amused. “We got caught in the energy wave when lasers hit the shields on the Plutonian.”
Lola brought the ship around, and we saw the combatants, a Jupiteran ship and a Plutonian one. I hailed them both. “This is Captain Janet Delane of the GUPPEAS ship S. S. Cosmic Turkey.” I skipped the full name of both the organization and the ship, figuring they’d get bored and start shooting again before I finished. “Please identify yourselves.”
The Plutonian appeared onscreen first, his gray-green reptilian face scowling. “This is Adequate Leader of Pluto, aboard the ship Adequate One. That Jupiteran cut us off, interfered with our sensors, and dumped its garbage in front of us.” His antennae writhed indignantly.
“Did you call me it?” A bright yellow Jupiteran appeared on the split screen. Jupiterans were shape-shifters, but this one was in their natural form, resembling a four-foot rubber ball with legs and a crude semblance of a face. Jupiterans also had forty-seven genders and a bewildering array of pronouns. My security chief, Nlubglub, was a they, and became dangerous when called anything else. Apparently this Jupiteran felt the same way. “You Plutonians have the brains of an Ursan rugworm, and your curling team couldn’t win with ten extra rocks and a blindfolded referee.”
Adequate Leader’s antennae pointed angrily. “Go kiss a supernova, you little—”
“Hold it,” I said quickly.
Lola texted, and words appeared in the air in front of me: I’ll call the Ambassador to calm them down. This is what he’s here for, right?
I gestured assent to Lola, keeping my attention on the screen. “There’s no need for you to shoot at each other. Space is big enough for both of you to go on your way, and you won’t have to cross paths. Where are you headed?”
“To the peace conference,” they said simultaneously. The Jupiteran terminated the call and fired one last laser blast before zipping away.
“You should fix your camera,” Adequate Leader told me. “It looks like it’s snowing on your bridge.” He disconnected.
I glared at the computer’s control panel.
“Captain.” Lola’s aura shaded from pink to fuchsia. “Why don’t I take over here for a while? You’re going to wind up punching the computer.”
Usually I was the one worrying about Lola’s short temper, so if it was the other way around, something was wrong. I pulled myself to my feet, careful of the slippery deck. “I’ll be in the view room.”
I took a step, slipped on a patch of ice, and fell flat on my face. The computer giggled.
* * *
I stopped at the mess hall on my way upstairs. The detour took me down narrow corridors with sharp corners, past a series of dents in the wall. My ship had seen better days.
The mess hall was built for a half-dozen crew members with varied eating habits. A pot of vegetable soup sat brewing next to a machine that condensed nutrients into crystals. The freezer contained some spices that were hot enough to be radioactive. I headed straight for the coffee maker, which was half empty and not even slightly warm.
Martian was sitting at the table while Pilar Villarreal, the ship’s medical officer, pressed an ice pack to the back of his head.
“Hey, Janet.” It’s not very captain-like to let Martian call me that, but he’s my younger brother, so I let it pass. “You missed a great snowball fight.”
I poured the remains of the coffee into a cup and put it in the microwave. “Who won?”
“Nobody left standing.” He took the ice pack from Pilar and returned it to the freezer. “But only because Lola wasn’t there. Yesterday she clobbered all of us—even my snowball cannon was no help.”
“No serious injuries this time,” Pilar added. She had a motherly look, with graying brown hair and octagonal glasses. “I think the crew needs the outlet. Everyone’s so frustrated since our last shore leave got canceled.”
“Yeah.” Martian was interrupted by the microwave making a shrill keening. He expertly jiggled the handle, and it stopped. “Hopefully Mom and Dad are still on Lyra II when we get there.” Our parents were in the military, and Martian and I hadn’t seen them in person since we joined GUPPEAS.
“I miss my family too,” Pilar said. “I know the kids are enjoying college, but the last stop on Earth seems like ages ago.”
College. If it hadn’t been for that ridiculous arrest, I could have been in college, instead of here on a barely functional spaceship, dealing with the computer’s attitude. “Martian, can you convince the computer that we don’t need snow all over the ship?” I hadn’t mastered the knack of giving orders instead of making requests. Months into this job, I still had trouble thinking of myself as a captain. “You’re the only one the computer ever listens to.”
“Sure.” Martian exchanged a look with Pilar. What was that about? “You didn’t get into another argument with it, did you?”
“That last one wasn’t my fault. The computer—”
The microwave opened, and a mechanical arm handed me my coffee.
“Never mind. I’ll be in the view room.”
As the door closed behind me, I caught a few words from Pilar in a low voice: “We’re going to have to do it.”
Martian sounded troubled. “Yeah, you’re right.”
* * *
It had stopped snowing by the time I brought my coffee to the view room, which was a small space near the top of the ship, empty except for a bench facing a screen that covered one wall. I sat, realized too late that the bench was damp from the recent snowmelt, and jumped up again.
The screen showed our approach to Cygnus IV in the Pelican Nebula. For me, the view from space never got old. Twin suns burned red and yellow as the planet’s cloud cover drew nearer. We were scheduled for a brief stop to drop off a passenger, and then my crew and I would head to Lyra for a much-needed shore leave. I should have been happy. Except I didn’t want to let this passenger go.
I warmed my hands around the coffee cup and watched an endless array of stars grow dimmer.
The door slid open, and in walked the reason for my recent moodiness: Beau Dangere, the youngest ambassador in GUPPEAS, the peace organization that employed us both. A man of such good looks, warmth, intelligence, and charisma that it must have unbalanced the
universe. To even it out, there had to be some unbelievably ugly, dumb, and mean man at the other end of the galaxy, or maybe in another timeline.
I didn’t want to think about other timelines.
“Good morning.” He stopped beside me, watching the planet with an innocent smile that sent my heart into overdrive. “I hear it’s been a busy day already. Sorry I couldn’t help, Captain.”
“Not your fault. The other two ships were gone before Lola could get hold of you.” I blew on the coffee. “You can call me Janet, you know.”
“Are you sure that won’t undermine your authority with your crew?”
In the distance, I could see other spaceships arriving. “You’ve been on my ship for three weeks. You can’t seriously think I have any authority with my crew.”
“Because you’re young for a spaceship captain?”
That was an understatement. I was all of nineteen. “No, even if I wasn’t, I’d still have a first officer with anger issues, a kleptomaniac pilot, a security chief who once restarted the war between Jupiter and Pluto, an engineer who’s my actual brother, and a…whatever Zeeko’s job is, he’d still be Zeeko.”
“I’m pretty sure Dr. Villarreal respects you.”
“Okay, that’s one out of six.” I took a gulp of coffee. “Looking forward to your new assignment?”
“Can’t wait. Richena’s ship should arrive around the same time as we do.”
Richena. “That’s great.” The coffee burned the back of my throat.
There wasn’t any socially acceptable way to say, Your girlfriend, Richena, is a monster. You broke up with her, but you don’t remember because she used time travel to rewrite history and take credit for my crew’s heroism. She erased the whole timeline where you and I were in love. My crew and I are the only ones who remember, because of some weird time-particle effect on the ship that nobody except Martian understands. But every time I’m near you, I feel like a part of you still knows.
“We have a little time before the peace conference starts,” Beau said. “Richena and I should have a chance to catch up, maybe take in some curling.”
“No, the sport,” we said simultaneously.
He laughed. “It’s amazing when you finish my sentences like that. Everyone else thinks I’m talking about hairdressing when I mention curling. Hard to believe we’ve only worked two missions together.”
We’d known each other much longer, and much better, than he could imagine. We’d saved a planet together. I cleared my throat. “Some people click like that, I guess.”
“Hope we get a chance to work together again.” There was no hidden agenda behind his words, just his usual friendliness. He glanced at the bottom of the screen, where the ship’s bow was visible. “The ship looks good now that they finally put the name on it.”
“Yeah, I’m surprised it fit.” Above the registration number, the hull now read Cosmic Old York Nerthus Turkey. It had taken ages for a committee to agree on that name. The ship had the awkward shape of a turkey, and occasionally made similar noises.
“They haven’t decided on a name for Richena’s ship. I think it looks like a dragon, or maybe a flying otter. She said maybe they should call it…”
He was still talking, but my mind was spinning too hard for me to focus. I wanted to tell him that he’d been tricked, everyone had been tricked, by Richena. Beau had been attracted by her bad-girl ways, but he’d found something better with me.
“Captain? Janet?”
“Sorry. Coffee hasn’t kicked in yet. You were saying?”
“I hate to mention this, but something’s missing out of my quarters.”
Suppressing a groan, I pulled out my communication device and called the security chief. “Nlubglub, I need you to break into Frink’s quarters and steal back an item that he took from Ambassador Dangere.”
Beau looked embarrassed. “I wasn’t accusing anyone.”
“It was Frink. It always is.” Nlubglub’s voice squeaked with annoyance. “What’s missing?”
“A diamond ring.”
My heart punched me in the throat.
“Sorry about that.” I kept my voice level. “Nlubglub, after you get it back—”
“Change the lock-code on the ambassador’s guest quarters. Will do. Too bad Frink’s so good at decoding them.” Nlubglub disconnected.
I looked at Beau and grimaced. “I’ll gently impress on Frink that it’s bad manners to steal from a guest on our ship.” Frink was a talented pilot, but he came from a planet where theft was less of a crime and more of a career choice. Anything that wasn’t bolted down found its way into his quarters.
“Thanks.” Beau smiled. His blue eyes were irresistible, and I had to suppress thoughts of our last kiss. As far as he knew, it had never happened. “About the peace conference. I’ve got a couple of concerns.”
After this morning, I did too. “Like the fact that the participants are already shooting at each other?”
“No, that always happens. We’ll probably have fistfights and tentacle-fights before the second day. But I noticed the Vegans are sending a contingent.”
“Vegans?” I’d never had any issues with vegans. “Is there a problem with the menu?”
“Vegans, as in from Vega. And yes, there’s a problem with the menu. They think humans are especially tasty.”
“Ah.”
“There’s another thing.” The double suns reflected off the clouds on the viewscreen, making his dark hair shimmer. “I may be wrong, but…does it seem like there’s something sketchy about this peace conference?”
I made myself focus. “What do you mean?”
“The Cygnoids haven’t always had the greatest relationship with other species. Now they suddenly have this plan to save the galaxy, but they won’t tell us anything about it until the conference tomorrow.”
“Could be an ego thing.” With planetary leaders, that was inescapable. “But I agree, it feels a little off.”
“Wish you were staying.” There was a glint in his sapphire eyes that made me wonder: was it possible he remembered some hint of the other timeline? But all he said was, “I’d like another set of eyes on our hosts.”
“Sorry, but GUPPEAS has been promising us shore leave on Lyra II, and we’re not passing that up. Especially with my parents stationed there.” I had so much to tell them, and it wasn’t the same by message.
The door slid open. Zeeko stood in the entrance, wearing the perpetually surprised look of someone whose eyes resemble fried eggs.
“Captain, Lola punched the computer.”
* * *
I returned to the bridge. The computer sported a fist-sized hole near the engineering station. Martian was tending to it. Not the actual repair yet; he was talking to the computer in a reassuring voice. “I’m sure Lola didn’t mean it.”
“Who cares what she meant?” The computer’s metallic voice had more static than usual. “That hurt, and it was totally disrespectful. How would you like it if she smacked you?”
“She does, once in a while. I’m learning to dodge.” He aimed a flashlight into the hole. “This won’t hurt a bit.” Martian loved machines, and machines loved him. The ship’s computer went into frequent sulks when it wouldn’t talk to anyone but him.
“It wasn’t my fault,” the computer whined. “All I did was deliver a message from Vertin Bogler at GUPPEAS headquarters.”
“Bogler wasn’t here to smack,” Lola grumbled. Lola’s aura was a dangerous crimson. “He wants us to stay for the peace conference. That means canceling shore leave.”
I didn’t punch anyone, but I may have thought about it.
“Let’s take the shore leave anyway,” Lola suggested. “The mission will probably get called off or changed before we’re halfway through.” This was all of our experience with the GUPPEAS bureaucracy.
“We could send holograms of ourselves to the conference,” Martian suggested. “It won’t take me long to design them.”
The thought was tempting, but I was even worse at rule-breaking than at technology. “We’ll do the mission. Maybe it will be a good one.”
Pilar arrived to examine Lola’s hand. “You’re going to give yourself permanent damage if you keep doing this.”
“What about the damage to me?” The computer sounded on the verge of tears, never mind that it wasn’t technically possible.
“You’ll be fine,” Martian said soothingly. “Give me a millisecond.”
“May as well get Frink and Nlubglub in here,” I said, sending them a text. “We can get them filled in on the new assignment.” I didn’t bother calling Zeeko.
Nlubglub arrived moments later. Like the Jupiteran on the other ship, Nlubglub usually took the form of a large rubber ball with stubby legs. Nlubglub could imitate an infinite variety of shapes, but they always looked like they were made of bright purple rubber.
Frink slipped through the door a moment later, one arm half-hidden behind him. He stayed back instead of replacing Lola at the pilot’s seat.
I eyed him suspiciously. “Frink, what do you have there?”
“Um, I don’t know what you mean.” Frink’s voice dripped with innocence, as if we didn’t all know better. He once stole an Olympic-sized swimming pool, then couldn’t figure out where to hide it.
Lola’s aura darkened again. “Let’s see it.” Her voice was enough to make clear she meant business. I’ve tried to cultivate a voice like that since becoming captain, unsuccessfully so far.
Frink pulled his hand out from behind his back. It was completely encased in a box labeled DO NOT TOUCH.
Martian laughed. “That’s the lockbox I designed for Janet to safeguard her valuables.”
Frink’s orange eyes lit up as he turned to me. “You have valuables?”
“No.” On what GUPPEAS paid me, no chance. “That was a test run to make sure the box worked. Glad to see it did.”
Pilar adjusted her glasses. Her hair was still dripping from the snowball fight. “Frink, there is treatment available for kleptomania.”
“I know. I’ve stolen a few books about it.” Frink glanced at Martian. “Could you get this thing off my hand so I can operate the controls?”
Martian remote-deactivated the lockbox with one hand and kept working on the computer with the other. Frink handed me the box and took his place at the pilot’s seat, looking sheepish.
Zeeko wandered in, carrying an armload of light bulbs in various sizes. Since he didn’t have a real job description, he was the unofficial cook, hairdresser, lizard-trainer, and a few other things.
I asked, “Do you want to know about the new assignment?”
“No,” he said. “Do you?” He turned around and left, nearly crashing into Beau, who was on his way in.
“Ambassador, I was about to call you.” Nlubglub pulled a box from inside the rubbery purple folds of their skin. Nlubglub didn’t usually bother wearing a uniform, since it was easier to shape-shift without one. “I’ll need you to identify which of these rings from Frink’s quarters is the one that you’re missing.”
Beau’s eyebrows jetted upward. “How many did he have?”
“Four,” Nlubglub said.
“Seven,” Frink said simultaneously. He clapped a hand to his mouth, then pulled it away. “Um, I meant four. It was totally four.”
Nlubglub sprouted an extra eye from the back of their head to glare at Frink, and opened the box.
“That one.” Beau picked up the ring. I tried not to be nosy, but the ring drew my eyes like a ship to a black hole. It was an elegant, heart-shaped stone. I hoped Richena would hate it.
Richena. The thought of him slipping it onto her finger was unbearable.
Nlubglub was still studying Frink. “Where did you get all these rings?”
“None of your business.” Frink reached underneath his console where a handful of snow remained, and busied himself shaping it into a tiny snowman, using a thumbnail to give it leafy hair like his.
Nlubglub sprouted more eyes to look from one crew member to another. “Anybody missing one?”
Lola snorted. “Nobody here can afford diamonds. Nobody here can afford trapezoidal zirconia.”
“They’re mine,” Frink said. “Give them back.”
“I’ll have to check with Zeeko first.”
“Auto-canceling reservations for shore leave.” The computer sounded a little too happy about it. “Including tickets to Galactic Curling Championship.”
Lola smacked it with her uninjured hand.
“Entering orbit around Cygnus IV,” Frink announced. The planet stretched out before us in gorgeous shades of pink and purple.
I hailed the office of the Counselor, the official leader of Cygnus IV, and was greeted by an assistant.
“This is Captain Janet Delane of the S. S. Cosmic Turkey. We’re here for the peace conference, representing GUPPEAS.”
The feathered assistant shuffled through some papers, looking harried. “Representing who?”
I had to look at the plaque on the wall to get the full name right. “The Galactic Universal Peacemongering Paradigm Emergent Action Spacefleet.”
“Oh, them. What exactly is a paradigm?”
I was pretty sure I’d learned the word for a vocabulary test in high school, but that was one very long year ago. “It’s hard to define, but it’s a good thing. Can we get permission to land?”
The ship made a crunching noise, and plummeted toward the ground. “Frink, what’s happening?” I yelled above the sound of engine gears grinding.
“Malfunction.” Frink’s voice rose with alarm. “Martian—”
“I’m on it.” Martian ran toward the engine room.
We were plunging toward a space station below us. Frink worked the controls frantically, jerking the ship aside and missing the station by centimeters. My stomach tightened like a fist as we dropped. We passed through a cloud bank so thick that it gave the illusion we were standing still. But then we burst through into the sky above the planet, with the ground approaching much too fast.
“Found the problem.” Martian’s voice crackled over the intercom. “Keep us up here a minute longer.” In the background, I heard the same noise the microwave had made earlier.
I wasn’t sure we had a minute. Nlubglub contracted into a ball; they might survive the crash, but that didn’t mean the rest of us would.
“Everyone strapped in?” I got a chorus of yeses in response. Except from Beau, who had no place to sit. I yanked him across my lap. “Hang on!”
Still dropping. We were about to die and I couldn’t think of a witty exit line. Beau’s arms tightened around me. Time seemed to slow down.
No, it was the ship slowing down. The ground was still approaching, but no longer at breakneck speed. Strain-neck speed, maybe. The fall eased to a stop, ten meters or so above the surface. Two avian creatures, who’d barely missed being hit by the ship, made a rude gesture as they flew away.
I looked up at Beau. He was blushing. I felt ridiculous with him on my lap, especially when I was so much smaller than he. “Sorry about that—”
Simultaneously, he said, “Thanks, quick thinking—”
The ship dropped the last ten meters and landed with a thud.
CHAPTER 1: A PROBLEM WITH THE MENU
I’d been on the bridge of my spaceship for five minutes, and it was snowing. “Computer,” I said irritably, “what do you think you’re doing?”
The computer’s voice managed to be blandly efficient and smug at the same time. “Keeping the ship on course, maintaining life support, and answering unnecessary questions for the benefit of biological life-forms.”
I heard a snicker from Lola, my first officer, the only crew member on the bridge at the moment. “Bridge” seemed like an overly grand term for a space with two elaborate mechanical chairs (mine and the pilot’s), three workstations with regular chairs, and a viewscreen. I still didn’t know what half the buttons on my chair were for.
Lola was filling in at the pilot’s seat. Like all Venuseans, she was surrounded by a colorful aura. Today it was a vibrant pink, which meant she was in a good mood.
I kept my voice level. “Computer, you need to fix the environmental controls. Again.”
“But the snow is picturesque. It’s whimsical. It’s—”
“It’s freezing, and it’s slippery, and it doesn’t belong on a spaceship.”
“With all due respect, Captain, maybe it’s you who doesn’t belong on a spaceship.” The snow continued falling.
The computer was unfriendly in general, but it seemed hostile toward me in particular. Actually, technology in general seemed hostile toward me. Floatcars, hair dryers, and kitchen appliances malfunctioned if I touched them. My ex-boyfriend Pietro, an overrated columnist for the Galactic Times, claimed I had a technology jinx. He thought it was funny to call me “Jam-it” instead of Janet.
I hit a button on the arm of the captain’s chair. “Martian, where are you?” Martian (yes, he’d be happy to explain at length, that really was his name) was the ship’s engineer, and the only one who had any luck reasoning with the computer.
“We’re having a snowball fight in the shuttle bay. Hang on, I’m gonna duck behind the—ow!”
After a brief silence, I asked, “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I think I can stand up. Good thing I don’t need the doctor. I almost knocked her out with a snowball, and now she’s—”
The button blinked several times, and the connection fizzled out.
Lola turned, pulling her long blonde curls out of her face. Her aura muted the effect of the garish uniform, which was in eight clashing colors. “Personally, I prefer a good swordfight, but snowballs will do in a pinch. The whole crew’s been on edge lately.” She didn’t add especially you, but I heard it in her tone. “We’re overdue for shore leave. This trip to Cygnus IV can’t be over fast enough.”
Shore leave sounded heavenly, and our destination didn’t have snow. “Can’t argue with that.”
The ship jolted sideways as a laser blast crackled in front of the viewscreen.
“Damage?” I demanded.
“We weren’t hit.” The computer sounded amused. “We got caught in the energy wave when lasers hit the shields on the Plutonian.”
Lola brought the ship around, and we saw the combatants, a Jupiteran ship and a Plutonian one. I hailed them both. “This is Captain Janet Delane of the GUPPEAS ship S. S. Cosmic Turkey.” I skipped the full name of both the organization and the ship, figuring they’d get bored and start shooting again before I finished. “Please identify yourselves.”
The Plutonian appeared onscreen first, his gray-green reptilian face scowling. “This is Adequate Leader of Pluto, aboard the ship Adequate One. That Jupiteran cut us off, interfered with our sensors, and dumped its garbage in front of us.” His antennae writhed indignantly.
“Did you call me it?” A bright yellow Jupiteran appeared on the split screen. Jupiterans were shape-shifters, but this one was in their natural form, resembling a four-foot rubber ball with legs and a crude semblance of a face. Jupiterans also had forty-seven genders and a bewildering array of pronouns. My security chief, Nlubglub, was a they, and became dangerous when called anything else. Apparently this Jupiteran felt the same way. “You Plutonians have the brains of an Ursan rugworm, and your curling team couldn’t win with ten extra rocks and a blindfolded referee.”
Adequate Leader’s antennae pointed angrily. “Go kiss a supernova, you little—”
“Hold it,” I said quickly.
Lola texted, and words appeared in the air in front of me: I’ll call the Ambassador to calm them down. This is what he’s here for, right?
I gestured assent to Lola, keeping my attention on the screen. “There’s no need for you to shoot at each other. Space is big enough for both of you to go on your way, and you won’t have to cross paths. Where are you headed?”
“To the peace conference,” they said simultaneously. The Jupiteran terminated the call and fired one last laser blast before zipping away.
“You should fix your camera,” Adequate Leader told me. “It looks like it’s snowing on your bridge.” He disconnected.
I glared at the computer’s control panel.
“Captain.” Lola’s aura shaded from pink to fuchsia. “Why don’t I take over here for a while? You’re going to wind up punching the computer.”
Usually I was the one worrying about Lola’s short temper, so if it was the other way around, something was wrong. I pulled myself to my feet, careful of the slippery deck. “I’ll be in the view room.”
I took a step, slipped on a patch of ice, and fell flat on my face. The computer giggled.
* * *
I stopped at the mess hall on my way upstairs. The detour took me down narrow corridors with sharp corners, past a series of dents in the wall. My ship had seen better days.
The mess hall was built for a half-dozen crew members with varied eating habits. A pot of vegetable soup sat brewing next to a machine that condensed nutrients into crystals. The freezer contained some spices that were hot enough to be radioactive. I headed straight for the coffee maker, which was half empty and not even slightly warm.
Martian was sitting at the table while Pilar Villarreal, the ship’s medical officer, pressed an ice pack to the back of his head.
“Hey, Janet.” It’s not very captain-like to let Martian call me that, but he’s my younger brother, so I let it pass. “You missed a great snowball fight.”
I poured the remains of the coffee into a cup and put it in the microwave. “Who won?”
“Nobody left standing.” He took the ice pack from Pilar and returned it to the freezer. “But only because Lola wasn’t there. Yesterday she clobbered all of us—even my snowball cannon was no help.”
“No serious injuries this time,” Pilar added. She had a motherly look, with graying brown hair and octagonal glasses. “I think the crew needs the outlet. Everyone’s so frustrated since our last shore leave got canceled.”
“Yeah.” Martian was interrupted by the microwave making a shrill keening. He expertly jiggled the handle, and it stopped. “Hopefully Mom and Dad are still on Lyra II when we get there.” Our parents were in the military, and Martian and I hadn’t seen them in person since we joined GUPPEAS.
“I miss my family too,” Pilar said. “I know the kids are enjoying college, but the last stop on Earth seems like ages ago.”
College. If it hadn’t been for that ridiculous arrest, I could have been in college, instead of here on a barely functional spaceship, dealing with the computer’s attitude. “Martian, can you convince the computer that we don’t need snow all over the ship?” I hadn’t mastered the knack of giving orders instead of making requests. Months into this job, I still had trouble thinking of myself as a captain. “You’re the only one the computer ever listens to.”
“Sure.” Martian exchanged a look with Pilar. What was that about? “You didn’t get into another argument with it, did you?”
“That last one wasn’t my fault. The computer—”
The microwave opened, and a mechanical arm handed me my coffee.
“Never mind. I’ll be in the view room.”
As the door closed behind me, I caught a few words from Pilar in a low voice: “We’re going to have to do it.”
Martian sounded troubled. “Yeah, you’re right.”
* * *
It had stopped snowing by the time I brought my coffee to the view room, which was a small space near the top of the ship, empty except for a bench facing a screen that covered one wall. I sat, realized too late that the bench was damp from the recent snowmelt, and jumped up again.
The screen showed our approach to Cygnus IV in the Pelican Nebula. For me, the view from space never got old. Twin suns burned red and yellow as the planet’s cloud cover drew nearer. We were scheduled for a brief stop to drop off a passenger, and then my crew and I would head to Lyra for a much-needed shore leave. I should have been happy. Except I didn’t want to let this passenger go.
I warmed my hands around the coffee cup and watched an endless array of stars grow dimmer.
The door slid open, and in walked the reason for my recent moodiness: Beau Dangere, the youngest ambassador in GUPPEAS, the peace organization that employed us both. A man of such good looks, warmth, intelligence, and charisma that it must have unbalanced the
universe. To even it out, there had to be some unbelievably ugly, dumb, and mean man at the other end of the galaxy, or maybe in another timeline.
I didn’t want to think about other timelines.
“Good morning.” He stopped beside me, watching the planet with an innocent smile that sent my heart into overdrive. “I hear it’s been a busy day already. Sorry I couldn’t help, Captain.”
“Not your fault. The other two ships were gone before Lola could get hold of you.” I blew on the coffee. “You can call me Janet, you know.”
“Are you sure that won’t undermine your authority with your crew?”
In the distance, I could see other spaceships arriving. “You’ve been on my ship for three weeks. You can’t seriously think I have any authority with my crew.”
“Because you’re young for a spaceship captain?”
That was an understatement. I was all of nineteen. “No, even if I wasn’t, I’d still have a first officer with anger issues, a kleptomaniac pilot, a security chief who once restarted the war between Jupiter and Pluto, an engineer who’s my actual brother, and a…whatever Zeeko’s job is, he’d still be Zeeko.”
“I’m pretty sure Dr. Villarreal respects you.”
“Okay, that’s one out of six.” I took a gulp of coffee. “Looking forward to your new assignment?”
“Can’t wait. Richena’s ship should arrive around the same time as we do.”
Richena. “That’s great.” The coffee burned the back of my throat.
There wasn’t any socially acceptable way to say, Your girlfriend, Richena, is a monster. You broke up with her, but you don’t remember because she used time travel to rewrite history and take credit for my crew’s heroism. She erased the whole timeline where you and I were in love. My crew and I are the only ones who remember, because of some weird time-particle effect on the ship that nobody except Martian understands. But every time I’m near you, I feel like a part of you still knows.
“We have a little time before the peace conference starts,” Beau said. “Richena and I should have a chance to catch up, maybe take in some curling.”
“No, the sport,” we said simultaneously.
He laughed. “It’s amazing when you finish my sentences like that. Everyone else thinks I’m talking about hairdressing when I mention curling. Hard to believe we’ve only worked two missions together.”
We’d known each other much longer, and much better, than he could imagine. We’d saved a planet together. I cleared my throat. “Some people click like that, I guess.”
“Hope we get a chance to work together again.” There was no hidden agenda behind his words, just his usual friendliness. He glanced at the bottom of the screen, where the ship’s bow was visible. “The ship looks good now that they finally put the name on it.”
“Yeah, I’m surprised it fit.” Above the registration number, the hull now read Cosmic Old York Nerthus Turkey. It had taken ages for a committee to agree on that name. The ship had the awkward shape of a turkey, and occasionally made similar noises.
“They haven’t decided on a name for Richena’s ship. I think it looks like a dragon, or maybe a flying otter. She said maybe they should call it…”
He was still talking, but my mind was spinning too hard for me to focus. I wanted to tell him that he’d been tricked, everyone had been tricked, by Richena. Beau had been attracted by her bad-girl ways, but he’d found something better with me.
“Captain? Janet?”
“Sorry. Coffee hasn’t kicked in yet. You were saying?”
“I hate to mention this, but something’s missing out of my quarters.”
Suppressing a groan, I pulled out my communication device and called the security chief. “Nlubglub, I need you to break into Frink’s quarters and steal back an item that he took from Ambassador Dangere.”
Beau looked embarrassed. “I wasn’t accusing anyone.”
“It was Frink. It always is.” Nlubglub’s voice squeaked with annoyance. “What’s missing?”
“A diamond ring.”
My heart punched me in the throat.
“Sorry about that.” I kept my voice level. “Nlubglub, after you get it back—”
“Change the lock-code on the ambassador’s guest quarters. Will do. Too bad Frink’s so good at decoding them.” Nlubglub disconnected.
I looked at Beau and grimaced. “I’ll gently impress on Frink that it’s bad manners to steal from a guest on our ship.” Frink was a talented pilot, but he came from a planet where theft was less of a crime and more of a career choice. Anything that wasn’t bolted down found its way into his quarters.
“Thanks.” Beau smiled. His blue eyes were irresistible, and I had to suppress thoughts of our last kiss. As far as he knew, it had never happened. “About the peace conference. I’ve got a couple of concerns.”
After this morning, I did too. “Like the fact that the participants are already shooting at each other?”
“No, that always happens. We’ll probably have fistfights and tentacle-fights before the second day. But I noticed the Vegans are sending a contingent.”
“Vegans?” I’d never had any issues with vegans. “Is there a problem with the menu?”
“Vegans, as in from Vega. And yes, there’s a problem with the menu. They think humans are especially tasty.”
“Ah.”
“There’s another thing.” The double suns reflected off the clouds on the viewscreen, making his dark hair shimmer. “I may be wrong, but…does it seem like there’s something sketchy about this peace conference?”
I made myself focus. “What do you mean?”
“The Cygnoids haven’t always had the greatest relationship with other species. Now they suddenly have this plan to save the galaxy, but they won’t tell us anything about it until the conference tomorrow.”
“Could be an ego thing.” With planetary leaders, that was inescapable. “But I agree, it feels a little off.”
“Wish you were staying.” There was a glint in his sapphire eyes that made me wonder: was it possible he remembered some hint of the other timeline? But all he said was, “I’d like another set of eyes on our hosts.”
“Sorry, but GUPPEAS has been promising us shore leave on Lyra II, and we’re not passing that up. Especially with my parents stationed there.” I had so much to tell them, and it wasn’t the same by message.
The door slid open. Zeeko stood in the entrance, wearing the perpetually surprised look of someone whose eyes resemble fried eggs.
“Captain, Lola punched the computer.”
* * *
I returned to the bridge. The computer sported a fist-sized hole near the engineering station. Martian was tending to it. Not the actual repair yet; he was talking to the computer in a reassuring voice. “I’m sure Lola didn’t mean it.”
“Who cares what she meant?” The computer’s metallic voice had more static than usual. “That hurt, and it was totally disrespectful. How would you like it if she smacked you?”
“She does, once in a while. I’m learning to dodge.” He aimed a flashlight into the hole. “This won’t hurt a bit.” Martian loved machines, and machines loved him. The ship’s computer went into frequent sulks when it wouldn’t talk to anyone but him.
“It wasn’t my fault,” the computer whined. “All I did was deliver a message from Vertin Bogler at GUPPEAS headquarters.”
“Bogler wasn’t here to smack,” Lola grumbled. Lola’s aura was a dangerous crimson. “He wants us to stay for the peace conference. That means canceling shore leave.”
I didn’t punch anyone, but I may have thought about it.
“Let’s take the shore leave anyway,” Lola suggested. “The mission will probably get called off or changed before we’re halfway through.” This was all of our experience with the GUPPEAS bureaucracy.
“We could send holograms of ourselves to the conference,” Martian suggested. “It won’t take me long to design them.”
The thought was tempting, but I was even worse at rule-breaking than at technology. “We’ll do the mission. Maybe it will be a good one.”
Pilar arrived to examine Lola’s hand. “You’re going to give yourself permanent damage if you keep doing this.”
“What about the damage to me?” The computer sounded on the verge of tears, never mind that it wasn’t technically possible.
“You’ll be fine,” Martian said soothingly. “Give me a millisecond.”
“May as well get Frink and Nlubglub in here,” I said, sending them a text. “We can get them filled in on the new assignment.” I didn’t bother calling Zeeko.
Nlubglub arrived moments later. Like the Jupiteran on the other ship, Nlubglub usually took the form of a large rubber ball with stubby legs. Nlubglub could imitate an infinite variety of shapes, but they always looked like they were made of bright purple rubber.
Frink slipped through the door a moment later, one arm half-hidden behind him. He stayed back instead of replacing Lola at the pilot’s seat.
I eyed him suspiciously. “Frink, what do you have there?”
“Um, I don’t know what you mean.” Frink’s voice dripped with innocence, as if we didn’t all know better. He once stole an Olympic-sized swimming pool, then couldn’t figure out where to hide it.
Lola’s aura darkened again. “Let’s see it.” Her voice was enough to make clear she meant business. I’ve tried to cultivate a voice like that since becoming captain, unsuccessfully so far.
Frink pulled his hand out from behind his back. It was completely encased in a box labeled DO NOT TOUCH.
Martian laughed. “That’s the lockbox I designed for Janet to safeguard her valuables.”
Frink’s orange eyes lit up as he turned to me. “You have valuables?”
“No.” On what GUPPEAS paid me, no chance. “That was a test run to make sure the box worked. Glad to see it did.”
Pilar adjusted her glasses. Her hair was still dripping from the snowball fight. “Frink, there is treatment available for kleptomania.”
“I know. I’ve stolen a few books about it.” Frink glanced at Martian. “Could you get this thing off my hand so I can operate the controls?”
Martian remote-deactivated the lockbox with one hand and kept working on the computer with the other. Frink handed me the box and took his place at the pilot’s seat, looking sheepish.
Zeeko wandered in, carrying an armload of light bulbs in various sizes. Since he didn’t have a real job description, he was the unofficial cook, hairdresser, lizard-trainer, and a few other things.
I asked, “Do you want to know about the new assignment?”
“No,” he said. “Do you?” He turned around and left, nearly crashing into Beau, who was on his way in.
“Ambassador, I was about to call you.” Nlubglub pulled a box from inside the rubbery purple folds of their skin. Nlubglub didn’t usually bother wearing a uniform, since it was easier to shape-shift without one. “I’ll need you to identify which of these rings from Frink’s quarters is the one that you’re missing.”
Beau’s eyebrows jetted upward. “How many did he have?”
“Four,” Nlubglub said.
“Seven,” Frink said simultaneously. He clapped a hand to his mouth, then pulled it away. “Um, I meant four. It was totally four.”
Nlubglub sprouted an extra eye from the back of their head to glare at Frink, and opened the box.
“That one.” Beau picked up the ring. I tried not to be nosy, but the ring drew my eyes like a ship to a black hole. It was an elegant, heart-shaped stone. I hoped Richena would hate it.
Richena. The thought of him slipping it onto her finger was unbearable.
Nlubglub was still studying Frink. “Where did you get all these rings?”
“None of your business.” Frink reached underneath his console where a handful of snow remained, and busied himself shaping it into a tiny snowman, using a thumbnail to give it leafy hair like his.
Nlubglub sprouted more eyes to look from one crew member to another. “Anybody missing one?”
Lola snorted. “Nobody here can afford diamonds. Nobody here can afford trapezoidal zirconia.”
“They’re mine,” Frink said. “Give them back.”
“I’ll have to check with Zeeko first.”
“Auto-canceling reservations for shore leave.” The computer sounded a little too happy about it. “Including tickets to Galactic Curling Championship.”
Lola smacked it with her uninjured hand.
“Entering orbit around Cygnus IV,” Frink announced. The planet stretched out before us in gorgeous shades of pink and purple.
I hailed the office of the Counselor, the official leader of Cygnus IV, and was greeted by an assistant.
“This is Captain Janet Delane of the S. S. Cosmic Turkey. We’re here for the peace conference, representing GUPPEAS.”
The feathered assistant shuffled through some papers, looking harried. “Representing who?”
I had to look at the plaque on the wall to get the full name right. “The Galactic Universal Peacemongering Paradigm Emergent Action Spacefleet.”
“Oh, them. What exactly is a paradigm?”
I was pretty sure I’d learned the word for a vocabulary test in high school, but that was one very long year ago. “It’s hard to define, but it’s a good thing. Can we get permission to land?”
The ship made a crunching noise, and plummeted toward the ground. “Frink, what’s happening?” I yelled above the sound of engine gears grinding.
“Malfunction.” Frink’s voice rose with alarm. “Martian—”
“I’m on it.” Martian ran toward the engine room.
We were plunging toward a space station below us. Frink worked the controls frantically, jerking the ship aside and missing the station by centimeters. My stomach tightened like a fist as we dropped. We passed through a cloud bank so thick that it gave the illusion we were standing still. But then we burst through into the sky above the planet, with the ground approaching much too fast.
“Found the problem.” Martian’s voice crackled over the intercom. “Keep us up here a minute longer.” In the background, I heard the same noise the microwave had made earlier.
I wasn’t sure we had a minute. Nlubglub contracted into a ball; they might survive the crash, but that didn’t mean the rest of us would.
“Everyone strapped in?” I got a chorus of yeses in response. Except from Beau, who had no place to sit. I yanked him across my lap. “Hang on!”
Still dropping. We were about to die and I couldn’t think of a witty exit line. Beau’s arms tightened around me. Time seemed to slow down.
No, it was the ship slowing down. The ground was still approaching, but no longer at breakneck speed. Strain-neck speed, maybe. The fall eased to a stop, ten meters or so above the surface. Two avian creatures, who’d barely missed being hit by the ship, made a rude gesture as they flew away.
I looked up at Beau. He was blushing. I felt ridiculous with him on my lap, especially when I was so much smaller than he. “Sorry about that—”
Simultaneously, he said, “Thanks, quick thinking—”
The ship dropped the last ten meters and landed with a thud.