Becca

by Mima

  She paused and stared hard enough that Becca turned her head and met her gaze. Her eyes were a dark, astonishing sea blue.

  “Ain’t never seen fur before, that’s plain,” the woman said to her face.

  Becca nodded. “I haven’t. But I’m trying not to be rude.”

  She jumped when the woman hissed in her face. “You do that, Tastycakes. Then maybe you’ll leave without scars.” She spun in a whirl of long, straight blond hair much like Becca’s, but the bushy tail flicking behind her was white, with a black tip. “Who let her in and what the fuck for?” she hollered at the room.

  “Chief assigned her to redo the systems,” said the quiet, dark man she’d met out on the floor.

  One of the older men over by the sinks roared with laughter, and Egg Girl set her crate down on a preparation counter. “Ahhhh. We just had them done last year by that stuck-up, sniveling princess.” She pulled a thin piece of fabric up from around her neck, and in two twists, it held her hair in an elegant updo. “So you’re too proud to fuck His Drunkenness?”

  There was more general laughter until the dark man said, “That’s enough.”

  The room settled into normal chatter, and Becca saw the pattern of their movement. She really had mastered food systems in junior high. The local restaurant had hired her for her first engineering job, and she’d left with enough money to buy a new car.

  She swallowed and lifted her chin. The rumpies were just like first-form humans, with the same feelings as everyone else. She’d stay out of their way and do her job. What could happen in a week? Then again, thinking of what had happened in one day, she scowled.

  Approaching the friendly guy, she asked, “I’ll need to coordinate my work with your schedule. Who’s your manager?”

  His chocolate eyes swept over her face, and then he called over his shoulder, “Roscoe, you want to work with this nice lady? She doesn’t want to disrupt our operation.”

  A tall, thin, bald man with an enormous, long-haired gray tail growled at them from where he was dicing vegetables at lightning speed. “Shut the fuck up, son-of-a-bitch panther-ass. You squire her needy little questions if you’ve got an itch to scratch bone. Stupid cow’s just going to fuck everything up. They always do.”

  There was general tittering at the preparation table and the nice man shrugged. “I guess I’ll be your contact. My name is Gage.” He wiped his hand on his apron and held it out to her.

  She clasped it. It was warm and rough, probably from all the washing he did, but large and strong. She held his gaze and offered him a real smile. “Thank you.”

  He kept her hand, not even shaking it, and replied, “You’re welcome. I need to get some things settled, and then I’ll be able to meet with you in a few minutes.”

  She nodded. “Sure. I’ll stay out of the way as much as I can, I promise.”

  “There’s coffee in the backroom. Why don’t you go have a seat?”

  He stood facing her while she went, which meant she still hadn’t gotten a good look at his—Gage’s—tail. The backroom was empty. It was long and narrow, encircled with supply shelves, with a much-dented table affixed to the floor in the center of the room, metal alloy like most of the ship. The chairs, however, weren’t bolted down. That’s because they were just various empty crates, even one large can. She sat on a crate and began to plan.

  When Gage came in, he took a cup of coffee and sat down across from her. She smiled at him. He had a very unusual face. It was angular, with astonishing cheekbones and a full mouth. His lips were a rich mocha, darker than his skin. He stayed still in front of her, making no attempt to hide the fact that he was staring at her in return.

  She licked her lips. “Whoever did your systems last time did a good job. I’m sure I can improve on it, but none of the basics jumped out at me. I’ll need some more time.”

  He nodded. His shoulders were strong and broad beneath his black shirt. How did rumpies’ tails emerge from their clothes? Did they cut holes?

  “Is there anything you’ve noticed that’s giving you a glitch?”

  He tilted his head and inhaled over the coffee deeply. His eyelids lowered and his face tightened. She caught her breath. When he looked like that . . . he was still too striking to be purely handsome, but Gage was very, very compelling. And that was really surprising.

  “Yes. By the end of the last shift of supper servings, the compactor quits working, and we have to carry the last trash of the night down the hall to the corner compactor. Also, first thing in the morning, the water pressure stinks, but it comes up within a half hour.”

  She made notations, hoping she wasn’t blushing. When she looked up, he was communing with his coffee again, and this time she was pretty sure she did blush.

  “Do you have a problem working with us?”

  Her hands fluttered around, uselessly shifting the plax-page on the table. “No!” Lord, how embarrassing. Here she was getting turned on and he thought she was hostile. “Nothing like that. I’m fine.”

  “We’re generally cold to bones, as you may have noticed. It becomes a protective reflex to the shit your kind chucks around. But I’m finding it interesting to speak to you.” He swirled the coffee languidly in his cup with a twist of his wrist.

  “Bones? Why do you call us that? You have bones too! We’re all humanoids.”

  He smiled, a small, sweet smile that made his eyes crinkle. “Tailbones. As in tailless. And you’re right. We are all humanoids.” He leaned back in his chair, stretched, relaxed. “Is this your first berth?”

  She flashed back to Walters’s pasha-pose from the night before. Where it had looked indolent on him, it looked dangerous on Gage. “Yes.” And the idiotic words just fell from her mouth. “I’m nervous about our first planetswing today.” Her face went hot.

  His smile returned, wider. “It’s fun. You’ll like it.”

  She nodded, determined not to ask more questions.

  “Meet me at room four twenty-two about ten minutes before. I remember my first time, and I wish there’d been someone to explain it to me. If you want company, that is.”

  Now her face was burning and she couldn’t breathe. Her mouth opened and closed a few times before she managed. “Thanks.” Her mind raced. With him? Would there be other people there? Other rumpies? They’d laugh at her. She didn’t want to look like a total cadet in front of him, but if she refused, he’d think it was because—

  He chuckled. “No obligations, no judgments, Becca.”

  Planetswing was scheduled right in the middle of the lunches, which meant chaos in the kitchen. Becca had staked out a corner of the mess hall in which to study the systems and try to pinpoint the two issues Gage had mentioned. She’d gotten a lot of glares from the people scheduled to eat who wanted her chair, so she’d taken a crate from the supply room and perched along the back wall.

  From her vantage point, she was only able to see the three serving windows set in the mess hall wall at waist height. She watched and soon learned the faces of the rumpies—people—who worked those windows. She never got a glimpse of a tail. They must hold them down below the window, she thought. When they came out to clear tables of the trash and dishes lazy crew hadn’t dropped off in the cleanser bins, she wanted to sneak a look at their tails, but she was too worried they’d catch her staring. Once, when she’d glanced up to see if Gage had come back to the window, she’d sensed eyes watching her and found a chubby, redheaded rumpy studying her. There were too many of them, coming and going, and she was determined not to be caught being rude.

  By the time planetswing lockdown was called, the mess hall was cleared and the workers were frantic in the kitchen. They rushed to secure everything. When the ship’s gravity was shut down to make use of a planet’s rotation, this place would turn into a death trap if it wasn’t contained. She slipped from the kitchen and made her way down the halls to berth four twen
ty-two. Thankfully, it was off the main hall, so she didn’t feel exposed hovering in the alcove.

  When the countdown began, she shifted her feet, wondering if she should rush to one of the emergency stations. There was no way she wanted to be bounced around the hall like a Ping-Pong ball. She heard the sound of pounding feet on the hall treads, and then Gage swung himself around the corner. He opened the door and pulled her inside all in one motion. They were in a frightfully small room, literally the size of her mother’s couch.

  “Jump.” Gage pressed a button and a bed began to slide out of the wall at chest height. It became clear to her that it would miss the table and chair below but fill the whole room. He went from standing on the floor to crouched on the bunk as if he could fly. She caught the merest sense that his tail was long, sleek, and black.

  Mostly she panicked at being pinned to the wall by the ever-creeping bunk. The incessant countdown over the speakers made her head hurt. She jumped, managing only to get her shoulders over the end of the bed. The blankets slid in her grasp and her feet landed again. Bracing her hands, she jumped again, then used the walls of his room to scramble up. It wasn’t pretty, but she made it.

  He was pawing at the side of the mattress, pulling fistfuls of red webbing out. “Get sick in my bed and I’ll kill you. I have a much more acute sense of smell than you do.”

  “I had a light breakfast and no lunch. I’ll try to keep it down.”

  The bed locked with a thunk, leaving a small area free in front of the door.

  The ship’s voice finished the countdown and everything went dark. It was utterly and completely black. She caught her breath. The silence without the atmo fans, the constant humming power sources, and general humanity made it seem as if she’d been cut off from her own body. She folded her fists into the blankets, noting that he had much softer ones than she’d been assigned.

  Her breath was the only sound she could hear, and she struggled to control it.

  “That’s right.”

  His voice out of that abyss made her jump.

  “Stay calm. In for three, out for three.”

  She heard faint rustling and tensed. Her pounding heart struggled against his instructions.

  “I’m draping the safety webbing around you.”

  Her chest began to feel tight, then her temples.

  “It’s starting. We’re riding the edge of the giant’s gravity. The jolt will come soon.” His hand on her arm was larger than she expected it to be. The webbing was cold and stiff around her shoulders. She felt his warmth as he reached around her and settled it against her back.

  “Can’t. Breathe.”

  “You can. It’s just pressure. There’s plenty of O in this room to last us both.”

  “I heard it was a sliding sensation,” she panted.

  “In for three, out for three.” His hand returned to her arm, stroked from shoulder to elbow.

  Compulsively, she wrenched her grasp from the bedding and grabbed him, clutching. “My head is being crushed!”

  “Shhh.” His other hand found her opposite shoulder, and she knew he was also kneeling, facing her. His palm slid up her neck to cup her face. His fingers speared into her hair and stroked back. There was a twitch and her hair fell loose from her ponytail. His thumb worked her temples in small soothing circles. He stroked through her hair, his nails creating a shivering cascade as they curled around her skull behind her ear. “Shhh. Get ready for the float.”

  The slight relief he’d given her vanished. She tensed, her mind full of engineering trivia about the forces at work on a ship’s structure during a swing. Her other hand flashed out, groping in the darkness. She felt his body and latched her grip onto his thigh. The muscles jumped under her touch. Then the ship groaned. Metal strained. Small clatters came from beneath them.

  “Shit. I forgot to drop the webbing over the shelves in the back room,” he said in disgust.

  Becca squeaked as her torso lifted. The sensation of her head trying to float away came next, and then she had to strain to keep her grip on his thigh. They’d entered the swing. The Cider Pot was now using the gravitational flow of a large planet to change its trajectory. Her teeth chattered and she snapped them shut.

  “Mmmm.” Gage rose up on his knees. His hand cupped the back of her neck. “Doesn’t it feel fantastic?” He stretched and her grip scrambled up to his hip. “Come on, Becca. Don’t clamp down so. Feel how loose your body gets.” His fingers holding hers drew up, up over her head, and he pressed her palm to the ceiling of his room. His hand on her neck coasted down her spine to her ass. Scooping her bottom, he kneaded it. “Stretch. Breathe. Relax.”

  She tried. She did. Touching the ceiling, having his long body stretched down hers, and his big hand on her ass helped. And just as she was feeling a tiny bit appreciative about the near-zero gravity, the room—or maybe just her stomach—began to spin. “Spinning.”

  He sighed. “Not gonna happen.”

  She pulled out of his grip to hold onto his shoulders. Clenching her jaw tight, clenching her eyes tighter, she willed herself not to get nauseous.

  “Becca. Blond, sky-eyed, tiny-curvy Becca.” His hands cradled her face and then he licked across her lips.

  She gasped. The ship groaned especially loudly, as if sharing her shock. His mouth sealed over hers, his lips soft, and his tongue licked inside. He hummed. No. He purred. She wrapped her arms around his head and kissed him for all she was worth.

  Her tongue dove past his and took over his mouth. He purred lower. Her teeth nipped, and then he went crazy. She spun and landed on her back. His weight pressed her for only a moment before he lifted away. His presence and heat lashed along her front but rested lightly. She clawed at his shoulders, fighting to contribute to the kiss. Their lips came together and apart, tongues exploring, teeth bared. She moaned, then his jaw overpowered hers. Her neck tipped back with the force of him sealing their lips together.

  A kind of electric energy washed her body. Her brain slid sideways, then her skin slid behind it. She had this momentary sensation of splitting into two Beccas, body and mind, and then she slammed together again. Her ass squished into the bunk, and Gage’s weight crushed her. The lights came on.

  He licked into her mouth, softened his touch, and kissed her some more. She gentled too, staring at his sleek eyebrows and his long, delicate lashes. He pressed a sweet, pursed touch to each corner of her mouth. His eyes opened, so warm and brown . . . and pleased. “Still feel sick?”

  She shook her head, beyond speech. “That was . . .”

  He nodded. “Planetswing is so good there are some people who crew in space because they’re addicted to it. It’s what they live for.” He eased off to the side of her. “How are you?”

  She nodded.

  He smiled, then reached to stroke her hair. “I’m glad.” His smile faded. “Next time you’ll know what to expect. The pressure on either end is from our velocity. It won’t hurt you.”

  He lay along her, and the stiff webbing was uncomfortable beneath her. His warmth was welcome in the rapidly cooling air. Then the hum of the fans kicked in, and the drone of the ship was in place. He wrinkled his nose. “Time to get back to the kitchen. Next seating is in only a half hour, as if we can work miracles with such an interruption. There will be a ton to clean up.”

  “I can help,” she impulsively offered.

  He tweaked her hair. “Wouldn’t say no. I’ll put you in the back room.”

  She smiled and cupped his face. It felt daring. He wasn’t like any of the guys back home. “Thank you, Gage.”

  “Thanks for not puking.”

  She let her hand drop. Was that all it had been? A ploy to keep his space clean?

  He taught her how to debark a shrinking bed and righted some loose things in his room. She kept her eyes on his desk when he bent over to pick stuff up.

 
“Becca.”

  “Yes?” She pivoted to stare at his face.

  He was smiling wide, biting his lip to keep from laughing. “Would you like to look at my tail?”

  “I . . . Uh, well, that’s not really . . . Sure.”

  He burst out into a chuckle and pulled her into a hug. And finally, for the first time that whole day, she relaxed. Her head fit into the strong cup of his shoulder, and she sagged against him. His fingers trailed up and down her spine. After a long moment, they pulled apart.

  “It’s true. Staring at our tails makes us hostile. It’s an instinct almost, more than an irritation. But if you’re going to be working with us, you’ve got to get over this owl look you get when you try to focus on my face.”

  “Does it make you angry if I look at you?”

  He shook his head and reached for his waistband. “Not with you, Becca. Not here, in privacy.”

  He turned his back, and dropped a normal pair of pants down over his ass. He didn’t wear underwear. The globes of his cheeks were firm and tight, hollowed and smooth. She tore her gaze from them to the gently waving tail rising from the top of his crack. Dark fur grew sparse and soft on the upper slopes of his cheeks and his lower back, in a circular patch around his tail’s base. It was like body hair. But the tail itself was heavily furred, just like that of a normal cat. A black cat.

  She realized she was holding her breath and let it out. “It’s . . . cool.”

  He looked over his shoulder at her, his long black braid swinging. “It is.” He winked.

  “Can I touch you?”

  He turned to face her, holding his pants at his hips. He studied her face and this time, when his tail flicked behind him, she let herself glance at it. The tip came up past his shoulder. She looked back at his serious face. “Was it rude to ask?”

  He shrugged. “Not after what we’ve just shared, and what I’ve offered.” He frowned. “I almost said yes, but the truth is, if you touch my tail, I’ll know for sure.”

  “Know what?”

  “If I want to fuck you.”