“You are being ridiculous,” Councilor Edor argued. For a diplomat he had little patience for his prince. “Are you sure you don’t like the classroom rivalry scenario? That’s how my wife and I fell in love, and we are still together after 40 years. It’s a classic.”
“This isn’t just any budding romance,” Petru said. “We are uniting worlds for the first time since the Breakup of 3221. The place of our meeting has to be big, with high stakes, high emotion, serious consequences if we don’t put aside our differences and see the best parts of each other.”
“The union between our worlds is already high stakes!”
“You don’t understand me!” the prince cried. “You can’t understand what I’m dealing with. Now get out.”
“Prince Petru…”
“Out! I am the prince, and this is my courtship, and you are not helping. Now get out!”
Edor threw his hands in the air and spun away to leave. He paused and heaved a huge sigh. “Where’s the exit?”
Loreli opened the door. “If you take a right, three doors down, you will find the mess hall. I will alert Commander Smythe that you are there. Perhaps he can arrange a tour of the ship while the prince and I continue our work here.”
Edor’s angry expression softened. He bowed, keeping his eyes on her, which in that position, meant her chest. Apparently, 40 years of marriage didn’t mean he didn’t appreciate other females. Not that Loreli minded, of course. Part of her job was to be appreciated, and as a botanically-based life form, it was her nature to thrive on being admired.
“You are as gracious as you are beautiful,” he said.
“Thank you. Take a right, then third door on the right.”
When Edor had left, the prince flopped into the captain’s chair and set his booted feet on the desk. He would have looked quite charismatic except that he whined, “I don’t want to get married!”
“Oh? Would you care to elaborate?”
“I’m only 22. I haven’t even had my first kiss yet…unless you count the serving girl, but she was egged on by my mother and it wasn’t true love…and actually, it was kind of gross. She had bad breath and her hands smelled like floor cleaner. But the point is, I haven’t had a chance to live! I don’t want to be stuck with the same person for the next 120 or 130 years.”
“Perhaps Princess Katrin will die a young and tragic death,” Loreli suggested.
“Well, yeah. One can hope. I mean, the grieving widower, determined to do well by his wife’s people? I could do that! Plus, sympathy attraction? I have heard the stories! Wow. Is, is that true for other species?”
“Sympathy generally inspires maternal feelings, though I have heard of a phenomenon called ‘pity date.’ It is generally considered a bad thing.”
“Well…what about you? I mean, your species?”
“We don’t ‘pity date.’”
He dropped his feet to the floor with a thunk and approached her. “No, I mean…how do you…? It’s just, Botanicals are plants, right? But you look so, so…”
“Botanicals reproduce through several means. I spore once every five of Botan’s years. At that time, I will return to my homeworld, take root, and wait for the summer winds.”
“’Summer winds.’ That’s romantic,” he murmured. He took a step closer.
“As for this form, when I decided to join the HuFleet, I chose it to better fit in with my crewmates. It’s simply a matter of proper pruning. My natural form is far less curvy.”
“I’d like to see your real form. I’ll bet you’re even more beautiful.”
His face had turned pink, making his zits stand out even with the concealer. It was kind of adorable, like a bud waiting to bloom. She made a note for her report. However, the hopeful look in his eyes put her on Yellow Alert.
He was young; a cold shoulder should deflate his attraction and perhaps make him more cooperative in planning his coming romance. She turned away coolly and started scrolling through files. “That would not be possible until my retirement. What about Hostiles in the Hood? Cyberzombies overwhelm Level Seven and two rival gangs band together to fight them off. Lieutenant LaFuentes uses it to train his team on leadership and wartime diplomacy, but if you and Princess Katrin took the role of rival gang leaders… What are you doing?”
Petru had moved behind her and put his hands on her waist. “You’re so pretty and you smell nice.”
“Prince Petru, unhand me and back away.” She froze and spoke as harshly as she dared.
“Come on. Be my forbidden affair! It doesn’t even have to be love. You can forever be the smile on my face that my queen doesn’t understand.”
His hands tightened on her and he pressed closer.
“I’m warning you one last time. Back off now, and we can forget this.”
He rubbed his cheeks against the thick leaves that passed for her hair. “Aren’t you feeling the summer wind now?” he murmured. One hand gripped the fabric of her outfit while the other blocked her escape.
“Security to the VR room. Petru, stop that before—”
Suddenly, the prince screamed and jerked away from her. He clawed at his face where a dozen small needles pierced his skin. He passed out.
She managed to catch him and lower him to the ground just as security ran into the room.
“Oh, harvest.” She sighed.
***
Captain Tiberius and Chief of Security LaFuentes arrived in sickbay at the same time, a good thing, because Commander Smythe and Minion O’Tin were having a hard time containing the irate Clichan councilman. Or rather, Smythe was having a hard time. O’Tin had offered to contain Edor quite literally by enveloping him in his gelatinous body, and Smythe had sent him to where Loreli was sitting with her hands clasped to get her statement. Meanwhile Smythe stood between them and Edor, speaking with stoic calm while the councilman yelled and gesticulated behind him to the bed where the doctor worked on the injured prince. At the moment, that mostly consisted of passing a tricorder over the prince’s moaning form and reassuring him and his guardian that he was not in any danger.
LaFuentes broke off to talk to Loreli while the Captain approached his first officer, arms spread, voice loud. “Well, now, what’s all this ruckus?”
“What kind of circus are you running here, Captain?” Edor demanded. “First, I’m sent away from the planning, then your, your, plant person attacks the crown prince of Clicha! Is this a Union conspiracy to keep our worlds divided and weak?”
“That’s a load of crap, Captain!” Gel hollered from where he stood beside the xenologist. “Their rockheaded prince ordered him out of the room so he could put the moves on our ship’s sexy!”
“Language, Mr. O’Tin,” Smythe scolded, glad that the universal translators chose to use the literal translation of the Globbal insult rather than a more insulting derivative.
“All right,” the Captain said. “How about we start with the important things? Doctor? The prince all right?”
“He will be,” Doctor Guy Pasteur said. “He took 13 of Loreli’s defensive needles to the face. They’re naturally tipped with capsaicin. Highly irritating under normal circumstances, but so many to the face… Let’s just say he’s learned a painful lesson about sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. He’ll be all right. I’ve given him .2cc’s imposazine and a pituitary suppressor. Bonus: It’ll take care of his acne. He’ll be clear-faced for his fiancé-to-be.”
With that, Pasteur turned back to his patient, waving a pen-like instrument over his face, occasionally touching it to a particularly nasty pimple. Pasteur was average in height, with blond hair and brown eyes, good at his job but lacking the flamboyant personality of the rest of the crew. You know – the type that gets added because they think he’ll be a stabilizing influence on the crew, but just gets killed off later because his character’s too dull to compete?
(Foreshadowing? No, no foreshadowing here. Why would you ask that? Moving on….)
Having received the doctor’s diagnosis
without anything interesting to play off of, Jeb turned to Loreli. “So. How did he get a face full of prickles?”
“I’m sorry, Captain. It’s an autonomic response. He was trying to bury his face in my fronds.”
“Your…?”
“Eyes up, Captain.”
“Oh! Your fronds! Uh… Why?”
“He had indeed ordered the Councilman out, but I don’t believe he had any hostile intent. The prince was merely frustrated and feeling pressured by his impending courtship. He began to vent this frustration, and as I searched for a more unique setting for him and the princess, I asked questions. I merely intended it for research, but he seemed to think I was expressing some romantic interest. I tried to brush him off gently, but he got aggressive surprisingly fast.”
“What surprise?” LaFuentes said. He jerked his head at the prince. “He’s royalty, but he ain’t in charge yet. That means he’s young and entitled. I knew plenty like that on the Hood.”
“Can you blame him?” the councilman countered. “Look at her. He’s young, inexperienced and nervous. What is it you call her? Ship’s sexy? How is any man supposed to resist her?”
Loreli glared at him with narrowed eyes, her fronds stiffening in anger. Gel and Enigo took steps back.
“Councilman, in the five years I have served aboard HuFleet ships, I have been around thousands of people who were attracted to me – people of multiple genders.”
“Whoa? Really?” Gel asked. LaFuentes elbowed him, which made him jiggle like a hospital dessert.
Loreli continued. “As ship’s sexy, it is my role to be desired, and I have been trained in how to handle it. I have been propositioned 792 times, and each one of them took ‘No’ for an answer. Until now. I did call security when things began to escalate, and I did warn him. As the doctor has said, he’s learned a painful lesson.”
“Well,” the Captain said. “Sounds like self-defense to me. The doctor will have him cleaned up by the time we get to Kandor, so I think we should just forget this happened.”
“But—”
“Councilman,” Commander Smythe said, “perhaps you have not had time to learn all the Union rules, but there are dire consequences for making unwanted physical contact with a ship’s sexy. They are, as the tradition states, ‘eye candy to keep up morale and ratings while serving as an invaluable member of the crew.’”
“It’s true,” Jeb agreed. “You don’t mess with a ship’s sexy.”
“Especially ours,” LaFuentes added, threat clear in his tone.
Edor sighed and raised his hands in the universal sign of surrender.
“There is still the problem of the ceremony. We never did come up with a scenario,” Loreli said.
LaFuentes curled his lip. “How about we throw him in the brig and let his fiancé-to-be break him out?”
“Now, Enigo.”
Loreli said, “Actually, Captain, it would make for a unique first meeting. It’s worth mentioning to the prince.”
“No!”
All heads turned to where the prince sat up in bed, hair disheveled, eyes wild, skin perfect.
“No! I will not have it! I have decided. I know exactly what I want.”
“Praise the gods!” Edor said.
The prince pushed the doctor aside, who went mildly enough because, hey, not his problem. Prince Petru patted his hair into place, stood, threw back his shoulders, and strode to Loreli. Two manly steps later, he ran and fell kneeling before her. Before Enigo or Gel could react, he grabbed Loreli’s hand and looked up into her eyes.
“Loreli! Oh, beautiful, beautiful Loreli. We’ve known each other for so little time, yet you’ve taught me so much about humanity. About being a man. I understand now! It’s as if…as if my life was enshrouded in clouds and you, shining beacon, have burned away the fog. Oh, sweet Loreli, I cannot be without you.”
“Loreli of the Impulsive, child of the Botanicals. I want you to be my wife!”
***
Captain’s Log, Intergalactic date, 676768.69, which is even more fun to say than 676767.67.
Prince Petru has apparently fallen in love with our xenologist and ship’s sexy, Loreli. Not that anyone can blame him, but it’s making it hard to complete our mission of marrying him off to the princess of his neighboring world and thus ensuring peace in the system. Not to mention the fact that he’s become a nuisance. He will not take her “no” for an answer, and LaFuente’s “stay the hell away from her” only seems to egg him on. For now, we’ve assigned Loreli a 24-hour security detail and are looking for alternatives to discourage the impetuous prince.
In the meantime, work has progressed on the wikadas shields, as Commander Deary and Lieutenant LaFuentes have dubbed them. They assure me we’ll be ready to test them as soon as we get the prince hitched. I’m really hoping that means sooner than later.
Loreli checked her scanner, and reassured that no Clichans lurked the corridor ahead, started forward.
“Yo! Fronds!” LaFuente’s voice called from behind her.
She allowed herself a smile that was half exasperation and half affection, then smoothed her features into the sexy pout she’d learned at the Academy and executed a turn similar to the one used by Galia Kay in last year’s Top Model competition. Any other male on the ship would have at least paused a half moment mid-step, but Enigo strode toward her, frowning.
“Where’s your detail?” he demanded when he was close enough to speak quietly.
“I sent Crewman Jenkins to get me some nitrate-infused hydrated soil from hydroponics. It’s been a trying day.”
“Nitrate? Going to do some heavy thinking?”
“You know me too well, Enigo.”
“Yeah? What I don’t know is why you are walking the corridors by yourself. You are perfectly content in your room.”
“True, but I have duties.”
“Which you can do in your quarters.”
“Xenology, to be sure, but as ship’s sexy, part of my job is to be seen and appreciated. It keeps ratings up.”
He leaned against the wall and looked her up and down, but with a warm, familiar, affectionate way she soaked up like the sun. “You know, being able to protect you is good for morale, too.”
“But that’s limited to Security.”
“Redshirts gotta have some perks. Human men get a kick out of protecting their women. We’re hardwired that way.”
She considered, and had to admit some truth to his statement. Even after millions of years of evolution, there was a primal drive to protect mates or potential mates.
“Now, come on. Allow me to escort you back to your quarters and get you safely rooted in your soil.” He held out his elbow.
She sighed. “All right. Thank you.”
“You want to thank me, plant one on me later.”
“Enigo!”
Suddenly a voice called out, “Get away from my intended!”
Enigo barely suppressed a most primitive growl. Loreli patted his arm and stepped between them before he extended his primal drive to more violent forms of expression. “I’m not your intended. Petru, you need to put away this infatuation.”
The prince grabbed her hand and kissed it sloppily, not the way she wanted to get watered, to be sure. “My beautiful Lorelee-root. I’m telling you this is not a childish whim. Why just now, I had Councilman Edor tell the Kandor that the courtship is off.”
Enigo said, “Are you out of your mind? Your system’s unstable.”
“Katrin is unstable. She’s already declared war on our planet – a war we will fight together as proof of our devotion.”
Loreli jerked her hand away. “I have been very patient, Your Highness, but this has gone far enough. Go back to the councilman, have him contact the princess and beg her to take you back. I will not be the cause of war.”
“But what of Helen of Troy, whose beauty caused one of your history’s greatest wars?”
“Helen of Troy?” Enigo asked. He threw his eyes to the ceiling. “Pulsie,
who’s Helen of Troy?”
Dutifully, the computer gave a brief summary, which I’m sure the reading audience knows and I won’t insult you to prove that I, too, can make an AI quote Wikipedia. Instead, let’s focus on the fact that Enigo smacked his own forehead.
“She’s not real.”
Loreli added, “And I’m not from Earth. That is not my heritage. Your analogy completely fails.”
“How can I fail if you are beside me?”
“That’s it.” Enigo took Loreli’s arm. “I’m taking you back to your quarters where you can rest in a nice mud bath, and if you are smart, prince, you’ll not be around when I get back.”
“Unhand her!”
The prince swung at Enigo. He’d obviously had training. Another man might have found his jaw bruised. Enigo, however, was no ordinary man. With reflexes developed dodging rival gangs and zombies in the Hood, and honed with Academy training and the Power of Plot, the chief of security easily dodged the blow, grabbed the prince by the elbow and shoved him against the wall.
“I had one nerve left, crip, and you just stepped on it.”
“Enigo, let him go before…”
“How dare you!” the prince shouted in dramatic, noble fashion. “You dare do violence to one of royal blood? You dare make a claim on my woman? Then you shall pay the price. Your Union will hear about – aaah!”
The prince crumpled to the ground, knocked out by the tranq patch Enigo placed on his neck.
Loreli groaned. “Enigo, you’ve made things worse.”
He snorted. “Worse? I don’t see how.”
***
Captain’s Log, Intergalactic date, 676769.56.
Thanks to an altercation between our chief of security – who, for the record, was just doing his job, albeit a bit enthusiastically – and Prince Petru of Clicha, our peace mission has gotten more challenging than ever. Prince Petru has challenged Lieutenant LaFuentes to a duel for the palm of Lieutenant Loreli. No amount of diplomacy, scolding or simple horse sense can sway the infatuated prince from his obsession. I’ve brought together my senior officers and Councilman Edor to determine what to do next.
Hold My Beer Page 2