by Jaleta Clegg
Chapter 40
Every breath of Ylisini's smoggy air tasted like paradise. The Patrol had kicked me out here, the closest port to Dadilan. Everything I'd done there had officially not happened. They made me swear secrecy before they let me go.
I had nothing except my pilot's license. I put in my application at the port hiring office, but hadn't received a single call in over three weeks.
I thought my nightmares would fade once I was away from Dadilan, but I spent at least half of each night tossing and turning and trying not to sleep for fear of yet another bad dream.
I tried to send a message to Tayvis. No one at the Patrol compound would admit he even existed. They kicked me out three times before I finally quit. I was afraid I'd attract Grant Lowell's attention if I kept trying. I didn't want to remind him of all the criminal charges he had dropped.
"You fix pipes yet?" Mrs. Dogwieller, my landlady, barged into my room. She'd agreed to let me have a tiny room in her basement in exchange for doing a few repairs. So far, the repairs had involved replumbing her entire four story boarding house. "They drip all over my kitchen floor."
"That's the cleaning unit. It needs a new gasket. It's going to cost you at least twenty credits, even for a used one."
Mrs. Dogwieller sniffed. "You fix pipes or you leave." She slammed her way out of my room.
I sighed. I recalled the list of ships in port on the tiny handcomp I'd borrowed from one of the other boarders. I hoped I could beg a berth somewhere, anywhere. Even as a deckhand. Anything was better than Mrs. Dogwieller and her pipes.
Three years, Tayvis had said. Did he really mean it? Three years would last a very long time, especially if I ended up stuck here. Most of the shipping companies on Ylisini contracted through trading combines. They had no room for an independent pilot. Maybe I could find a sympathetic captain willing to take me somewhere with more prospects.
Tayvis thought he was dying when he kissed me. What had he meant, when he said he'd been looking for a woman like me? What did he want with a scrawny, plain nobody from a planet no one ever left?
I tucked my feet under me in the tattered armchair, plucking stuffing out with one hand. I cradled the handcomp in the other. I was almost better off on Dadilan. No, scratch that. Nothing was worse than Dadilan, not even Tivor.
The message light on the handcomp blinked. I didn't get excited. The message couldn't possibly be for me. I idly scrolled over it. My name blinked on the subject line. I clicked the retrieval button. Only a contact number was listed.
My hands shook. It had to be from Tayvis. I hit the dial button. The line connected.
"You are Dace?" I didn't recognize the sharp-faced woman who answered. She wore a tan and green company uniform.
"Yes," I said, squashing disappointment that she wasn't in Patrol silver.
"You submitted an application for employment several weeks ago. Are you still available?"
"Yes." Anything but Mrs. Dogwieller's pipes.
"It's temporary," she said, her voice cold and clipped. "We are in need of a pilot to ferry a ship to Tebros. Regulations require three. We only have two of ours available. I assume your ratings are still in order?"
"Yes, ma'am. Anything smaller than an ore freighter."
She flashed a brief smile, one that didn't touch her eyes. "Landing pad five sixty three. Liftoff is in six hours. I'll have the paperwork waiting."
"I'll be there." Grunt work, they probably wouldn't even let me touch the controls, but flying beat plumbing any day.
"Is standard pay rate acceptable?"
"Perfectly."
The woman signed off.
I closed the connection. I had little enough to pack. I owned a total of three jumpsuits, cheap ones. I'd had to beg Mrs. Dogwieller to pay me extra for fixing her vid set so I could even buy those.
"You fix pipes now," Mrs. Dogwieller caught me in the hall after I'd returned the handcomp. She folded her massive arms and frowned ferociously.
After Pardui and Leran, she was a rank amateur. I ignored her glare.
"Thanks for the room, Mrs. Dogwieller. I have a job."
"You leaving?" She blinked in surprise.
"Tonight." I wondered if she was going to hit me or start screaming. "I told you this was temporary, only until I found work."
She pulled me into a crushing hug and bawled onto my head. "I miss you much. You good worker. You fix pipes."
I patted her ample middle and tried to squirm free. "I miss you, too, Mrs. Dogwieller."
She let go, patting her teary face. She patted my face, too, with her damp hands. "Oh, this come for you, yesterday." She pulled a crumpled wad of paper from her pocket.
I smoothed it out. There were only five words inside.
Golden Pig, Proxima. Be there.
A date was stamped at the bottom, a date just shy of three years in the future. My hands shook. I couldn't see.
"Bad news?" Mrs. Dogwieller's face wrinkled with concern.
"No." I smiled. "Good news, very good news."
Tayvis meant what he'd said. Suddenly, the future looked a whole lot brighter.
Author Bio: Jaleta Clegg was born some time ago. She’s filled the years since with many diverse activities, such as costuming, quilting, cooking, video games, reading, and writing. She’s been a fan of classic sci-fi books and campy movies since she can remember. Her collection of bad sci-fi movies is only rivaled by her collection of eclectic CD’s (polka, opera, or Irish folk songs, anyone?).
She writes science fiction adventure, silly horror, epic fantasy, and just about anything else that catches her fancy. Find a complete listing of her published work at www.jaletac.com and a complete listing of the Fall of the Altairan Empire series at www.altairanempire.com
Jaleta lives in Utah with her husband, a horde of her own children, and too many animals including dogs, frogs, a goldfish, a cat name Chunkalicious, and chickens. She wants to be either Han Solo or Ursula the Sea Witch when she grows up. If she ever does.