"Please fasten your seatbelts," Captain @willisinspace's voice calmly announced through the intercom.
Level 13 was just a partial floor at the back that overlooked Level 12, with stairs leading back down on either side. We had a fantastic view of the big red seatbelt holograph that appeared on the ceiling of Level 12, and a handful of unlucky passengers who were now floating through the air helplessly.
I really wished I had gravity boots. While @auroraloon walked expeditiously to a nearby table, squatting below it with Sango, I settled for reaching for the side of the sink. That didn't work. As my feet flew out from under me, I managed to snag the handle of the faucet. I grabbed with two hands to keep myself in place, while inadvertently opening the faucet to send globs of water spraying out in all directions.
All the tables and chairs were bolted down, so at least I didn't need to worry about being struck by anything nearby that was larger than a roll of paper towels. But since no one knows how to put their dishes in the dishwasher, I had to balance holding onto the faucet handle with batting away dirty dishes that flew up toward my face, splashing me with other people's nasty coffee, soda, wine, booze, and soaked napkins. Who puts napkins in the sink?
I shrieked as a half empty glass of white zinfandel with lipstick stains on the edges came flying at me, smacking it away but getting splashed in the face all the same. I rotated as best I could to plant a foot against the wall of the kitchen. Then I found the edge of the sink's counter with my hands, pulling at the same time as I kicked, to launch myself in the direction of @auroraloon. Another blast shook the ship as I hurled toward her.
But I missed my mark, flying inches beyond the reach of the table. @auroraloon just sat there under the edge of the table with Sango, watching me helplessly fly past. I heard laughter when I slammed into the wall on the other side, face-planting against a distorted drawing of a pumpkin patch.
If James saw this painting, I thought to myself, he'd probably kill whoever drew this atrocious thing. The pumpkins looked more like squished tomatoes, and the artist couldn't stay within the lines when they colored it. A dark shadow of a figure was rising out of the pumpkin patch, and a silly looking oversized moon was in the upper corner, next to a flying bat with fangs.
I reoriented myself using the artwork as an anchor. Apparently, the crew was wise enough to mount them on the wall. I wondered how often Flipper had to deal with this sort of thing. As I assumed an upright position, pushing my feet down toward the floor, I noticed the artist's name in the corner.
Melody.
So the vampire liked to draw. I nearly pissed myself laughing. I looked at some of the other paintings. One started to float away from the wall. Apparently, not super well fastened. I was lucky this one was, but I desperately wanted to take it with me.
I snapped a photo of it with my ocular vision, realizing that I should have done a better job of making a photo album of my Vanquisher adventures. Maybe I'd set an assistant daemon to run through my memories to capture some of the moments. Not of me shitting my pants on Psyche though. And not of me vomiting moments ago.
And then I threw up again. Spinning through space on a shaking ship while hopped up on vampire venom will do that to a person.
I floated over to a nearby table, successfully this time, and planted myself in the chair, grabbing the sides firmly to stay in place. The shirt James had given me, a nice camel colored button-up, was now covered in puke and splashes of wine and coffee. My leather jacket had been miraculously spared so far, with just a few drops of wine I could easily wipe off, and I hadn't been wearing it when @horsehead thrashed me. The scars on my back told me I maybe should have risked the extra time to put it on.
@auroraloon was still snickering under her table, looking just fine, clean, comfortable, unfazed, and beautiful. Totally not fair.
I did the only sensible thing. I stuck my tongue out at her, flicked her off, and made phbtt noises at her.
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
Then I check my sensors. Without a suit to enhance my abilities, I couldn't get much, but the data told me we were being pursued by a single ship. Jamming signals were active, so I couldn't tell if it was an Introvert or Extrovert vessel. I considered trying to broadcast a shortwave communication, something like, "Envoy on board. Please disengage." But why would an envoy be on a cargo ship? And what if it was just pirates looking for a score?
No, there wasn't really anything I could do about it.
"Escape pods?" I yelled toward @auroraloon.
She shook her head at me. "Cargo ships can eject the bridge, discarding the packages along with the rest, but that's it. The crew will all head there."
She was right. I wasn't thinking straight. "But we're fucked, aren't we?"
"Only if we explode," she called back.
Another destructive shot hit the ship, the wave of energy jostling Level 13. One of the tables came unhinged, ripped from the floor, but it floated harmlessly away toward the ceiling of Level 12.
I scanned the ship with my ARM, looking for someplace we could hide safely in case the ship crash landed. I shook my head at myself, frustrated. I just got the ARM. Don't die, they said. And here I was whirling through space in a box while someone with a boxcutter tried to slash it open.
Surely James would have put me on a ship that could handle something like this, I had to hope. 4C inspections were common. Pirates were common enough. I tried to assure myself that we would be okay.
I shouldn't have been surprised by the results of my scan. We were on our way to Eros, home of the hugely popular city of Las Vegastroid, which of course was a tourist trap of entertainment and gambling. It was also Eros, the love asteroid, a place for affairs, honeymoons, eloping, and all flavors of romantic encounters.
Nerves hit me again. I'm on my way to Eros, with @auroraloon. I just wished the circumstances were different.
My scan of the ship's cargo revealed playing cards, gambling chips, poker tables, slot machines, sex toys, quilts, sheets, mattresses, pillows, headboards, beds, couches, lounge chairs, bar stools, stuffed animals, bathing suits, sunglasses, hats, more hats, shirts, shorts, sandals, and an entire floor of plastic flamingos.
"Level 6," I called over to @auroraloon. "They're shipping mattresses and headboards. Level 5 they're shipping pillows and bedding."
I had already had my fill of pillows after the pillow fight on Itokawa, but sadly, that was probably the safest place to be. I didn't trust strapping back in on Level 12. If this were a passenger ship, sure, but this was a cheap and basic mode of transport where the cargo was more important.
"I say Level 5," I added.
@auroraloon frowned. "Yes. The mattresses will be wrapped in plastic or scrunched up in boxes."
I rolled up my sleeve to show her my ARM. "Passages will be locked down, but if the crew is heading to the bridge, we should be free to roam about the cabin, and I can disable, hack, shoot, or zap our way through doors."
"Nice hardware," she replied. I could tell she was honestly impressed. I half expected her to show me hers, but she just scowled. "Please tell me I don't have to drag you down there by the arm."
Ah yes, my lack of gravity boots.
"Piggyback ride?" I suggested, envisioning myself wrapped around @auroraloon's back, with my legs around her waist, while she carried Sango and I shot doors open with my ARM. We would be an unstoppable duo!
She must have had a similar vision.
"Fuck no," she snorted.
That left one other option. I ran a quick ARM instructional video through my head from its manual. I gulped. No time like the present to test out my new abilities.
I fired the grappling hook out toward a vending machine on the far wall of Level 13. It crashed through the glass, sending shards scattering out in all directions, smashing a bag of Comet Bites candy, and embedding itself against the back of the unit. I banged my knees against the table as moments later I shot across the room.
@auroraloon's side of the story is that I cried frantically like I was being reanimated and experiencing the crash of rebirth, that I was completely out of control, that I had endangered lives by sending shards of glass out into the air, that I sucked myself into the vending machine like a prize toy for someone to win in a mechanical claw drop game.
She showed me a picture.
I still don't believe her. Pictures can be faked.
I landed elegantly on the other side of the room and deftly released the claw from the vending machine, retracting it back into the ARM, while I held myself in place.
"I can manage," I said, with an expert smile.
"Sure you can," she chuckled, standing up with Sango still tucked in close.
I narrowed my eyes at her, making growly noises. "Let's go."
I fired my grappling hook again, toward the doorway, missing completely, losing my grip on the vending machine, and cutting my right arm on broken glass. The grappling hook did not hit me in the face when I pulled it back in, but I checked the user manual again just to make sure I didn't miss any hidden features.
The grappling hook could be electrified! That's cool.
I fired again and went zipping like a lightning bolt out of cursed Level 13 toward the fasten seatbelt sign and particle reclamation unit. So that's where it is, I thought, wondering exactly what it could do to me as I made impact and held onto my balls for dear life.
and now 8 before I can wrap it up and move on to Season 2, "The End of the World."