by Scott Rhine
The mention of the other man’s name was like a bucket of sand on the campfire, ruining the s’mores. “Of course Red is backing the hotdog.”
“Yeah, but Sojiro’s with me. Park won’t commit until the numbers are all in, and Z is torn.”
“Are you going to win?”
“I’m hoping Lou will withdraw his claim when I show what a single system’s failure will do to us.”
He nodded, fascinated by the engineer. They chatted politely for some time after, but he could tell she wasn’t interested. When he reached out to shake her hand in thanks, she could barely control her flinch. Without proper anesthesia, he would never be able to touch her.
He decided to make a custom syringe for her in his vacation kit, just in case.
Chapter 25 – The Big Day
During the weeks of Tau Ceti spring, all the astronauts kept busy. They took every measurement possible in the system without launching a probe. Zeiss made a deal with Mercy: he would vote against the close approach to Midway if she voted against the use of the probe. “I’d rather use it to map the world where we’re going to be living, not the place we know we can’t.”
Even here, there was politics. Mercy agreed, and both measures went the way she expected.
The last week before the wedding was especially busy for Yvette because she was the best man and primary physician groundside. Two days before the blessed event, Johnny had a reaction to the Iguana Bourguignon he’d been experimenting with. Afterward, they narrowed the problem to the bootleg vodka in the sauce combined with some of the lizard’s digestive enzymes. Zeiss banned the first batch of alcohol for use outside medical facilities.
Mercy had to baby the chef, hold the puke bucket, and watch his IV so he stayed hydrated. Frantic, Pratibha found her in the cook’s cave. As head colony planner and de facto mayor, she’d grown accustomed to power. Combined with her upcoming nuptials, it wasn’t attractive. The dusky-skinned Bridezilla roared, “The streamers are not hanging themselves!”
“Yvette ordered me to do this, but I’ll get the surplus toilet paper next shift.”
“I’m not decorating my wedding like an outhouse!”
You’re not decorating at all, Mercy thought. However, she said nothing and held out a hand to warn the man to keep silent. After the colony coordinator vented, Mercy would redirect her and buy herself time to think of an alternative. It was the diplomatic version of shouting ‘squirrel’ in front of a dog.
The pale cook next to her had the ill-advised temerity to say, “It’s not like we packed pink-and-white crepe paper for the mission.”
The bride unloaded a torrent of invective against the poor man. As the blistering tirade wore on, the cook’s unshaven face shifted from amused, to bored, and finally to just a bit frightened. He had brains enough to realize that if he said anything to defend himself, it would only dig him in deeper. He turned to Mercy, pleading with his eyes.
“There are all kinds of pink and white flowers in Honey Bee Meadow,” Mercy suggested, nudging Johnny.
After a moment of fish-mouthed confusion, the cook recovered, running with the ball. “I saw that at a wedding in Milan. Bellisimo.”
Pratibha softened as she pictured the long house decorated with flowers, more reminiscent of a movie set than a log cabin. “Yes. It’ll be elegant. Mercy can gather them, and you can both chain the blossoms together in alternating colors.”
Johnny started to object, and Mercy interrupted him with a hip check because he didn’t understand subtle. His volunteer nurse said, “We’d be honored . . . but then who’d bake the cake?”
This confused the bride for a moment. Johnny seized the initiative. “I cannot do it alone. I would contaminate the batter. I have explained it to Mercy. She must cook the pieces now so we can cool and shape them. Otherwise, the butter icing will slide off.”
It wasn’t precisely butter, but Mercy didn’t contradict him.
“Then what are you waiting for?” the bride demanded.
“The . . . um . . . solar oven is still baking your plates,” Mercy said, raising her hands in helplessness. “Talk to Risa.”
“Right. She had the wrong shade of blue and had to reglaze them all. Blast it. I wish Sojiro were down here. He gets how important all this is. I’ll have a word with Mrs. Herkemer.”
The bride paused on the way out the blanket-covered portal and said, “Wait!”
Johnny groaned and his head sank into a soy-foam pillow, a material they’d found ideal for mattresses and wall insulation. He was going to play the sick card, the coward.
Pratibha asked, “Who is going to pick all my flowers?”
Just then, Lou wandered by, shirtless, taking a break from the construction. Mercy had watched him laboring briefly as she fetched cool water in a bucket. Despite his many flaws, he was easy on the eyes. “Captain Llewellyn!” she called out.
He stopped and poked his head in. He had a towel around his neck and his wavy, blond hair was tousled. He even smelled good. It wasn’t fair. “You summoned me, milady?”
“You remember Honey Bee Meadow, don’t you?”
“I named it,” Lou bragged.
“Good, then you can go there with the wheelbarrow,” the bride said, leading him away.
“You can’t just co-opt people for slave labor,” Lou objected.
“Remember your joke this morning—where you said ‘holy cow’?”
“I was trying not to swear so much. There were ladies present.” His eyes flicked toward Mercy.
“That phrase is offensive to Hindus. As the only member of that minority in camp, I get to specify the punishment.”
When they were gone, Mercy whispered, “I feel a little bad about that.”
“Suffering is good for the soul,” Johnny said philosophically.
****
The morning of the wedding, Sojiro returned to camp early at the bride’s request, leaving Toby alone in Olympus. Live music wasn’t possible, but they had every digital tune imaginable. However, Sojiro argued with Pratibha as if it were his wedding. “I have the entire Longren opera, but I’m telling you that ‘Here Comes the Bride’ is too trite.”
“We are not playing Ahunga’s sports-music selections before the dance. I refuse to have people doing the wave at my wedding.”
“Who?”
“Dr. Ahunga O Te Ika Whenau Whanganui—my husband-to-be,” she stressed.
“Oh, Auckland. Why didn’t you say so? I just think that you should give the full-orchestral version of Pachelbel’s Canon a try before you make up your mind.”
“You don’t know good music. You don’t even have a copy of ‘Mehndi Lagaungi mai Sajna ke Naam ki’ for us to dance to.”
“I got the song from Zubeida. I’ll teach everyone the Bollywood moves.”
“It’s not the same!”
“Just listen to the Pachelbel.”
Hair bedraggled and flour on her face, Mercy snuck up on the pair. When the bride was distracted by earphones, Mercy whispered to Sojiro. “We stayed up all night working on the cake. I got the color wrong on one of the layers and had to scrape off all the icing. The masterpiece is in the cooling cave. I’m going to sleep while I have a chance.”
As Mercy crept away, Bridezilla snapped, “Where are you going?” Before the weary woman could answer, Pratibha continued, “Lou isn’t finding enough of the right shade of white. Go show him what I’m talking about.”
With a sigh, Mercy made a stop in the medical facility to grab an aerial view of the flowers in the meadow. She planned to circle the white candidates, hand the photo off to the pilot, and then sleep. She bumped into Yvette in the office. Her hair wavy and perfect, the nurse said, “You look like hell.”
“Thank the bride. I like your puffy sleeves. I didn’t know that came as an option on the uniforms.”
The nurse rubbed her eyebrow with a middle finger. “Who knew Rachael could sew this well. Pratibha has borrowed Risa’s wedding dress, so my sleeves had to match.”
&nb
sp; “Oh my. Risa used her entire weight allowance to bring her dress?”
“Herk had to bring the veil. She wants any future daughter or daughter-in-law to wear it.”
Mercy covered her mouth to hide the grin. “I thought Z was funny when he brought Swiss chocolate bars.”
“Oh, that sounds good,” Yvette said, salivating.
“Do you know where I could find Lou?”
Yvette shook her head. “He went to the meadow for another load.”
“I just saw the wheelbarrow out by the shed, empty,” Mercy said, growing suspicious.
“Perhaps he has taken a vacation from estrogenville, as he calls it. This is his last day off for a week.”
Lou and Yvette were both going to be up in Olympus with her for the next week—awkward. Mercy resented the wedding, especially given she was never likely to have one.
Sensing her depression, Yvette asked, “What’s wrong? I thought you’d at least be glad to see Toby when we switch.”
“Ick. No. I’m nice to him because of what he’s doing for Yuki. I only gave him a second chance because Auckland asked, and I didn’t have anything to give as a wedding gift. Toby gives off a definite Gollum vibe.”
Since Yvette hadn’t read the Hobbit, Mercy had to explain. “A creepy bloke who lives in the dark and eats anything weak that wanders too close.”
“Not at all. I can tell he’s been under enormous stress lately, though. He retreats emotionally when he feels pressured. I saw a documentary once about parrots. They can live past a hundred in the wild, but the average age in captivity is only three years. They get lonely.”
“What do you recommend I do?”
“Look for signs he’s reaching out. In the wild, a parrot will chew up a choice bit such as a grape and spit it into the other bird’s mouth as a sign of affection. Of course, if you’re not a bird, and he sits on your shoulder, the chewed food goes in your ear.”
“Gross! What does it mean if he stares, drooling, at my bare legs and feet?”
“Hmm. Things have degraded further than I thought. He’s not supposed to be alone with any female patient when pants are off. I should probably have a talk with him.”
“Don’t agree to any riddle contests.”
“Qu’est-ce?”
“Never mind. I have a slacker to track down.”
****
Mercy pushed the wheelbarrow all the way to the meadow. Her neck and upper back were cramped in pain by the time she found Lou hanging in a hammock between two trees, sleeping. Without a word, she put down the wheelbarrow and tipped the hammock on its side, dumping the pilot onto the grass-covered ground.
“What are you doing you psycho b—Mercy, how are you?”
“Tired and looking for a way to unload a whole lot of mad. I can see why you’ve been having trouble locating just the right blossoms.”
“What, do you blame me? The first batch I brought was too ivory . . . but only after I brought a second load of the same. She had time to compare them to the dress in the meantime. The next batch was too bone. She wanted more snow white.”
Mercy held up a hand. “I get it. My neck cramp is creeping into the base of my skull imagining her voice saying that. I just want to sleep.”
“That I can help with.” He unhooked his hammock, and laid the fabric on the ground. “Put your lab coat down as a pillow.”
She raised an eyebrow.
Lou held out his hands, appealing to an imaginary crowd. “I can’t very well give you a massage through your armor. How else can I relieve that tension?”
Remembering how Yvette’s massages always helped, Mercy was tempted to return to camp to ask for one. But if she did so, Bridezilla would catch her again. Sighing, Mercy said, “I suppose—a quick one.”
He shook his head. “Uh-uh. I have a reputation to uphold. We’ll do this right. I won’t stop till your pain is gone.”
As she unbuttoned her lab coat, she stopped to twirl her finger. “Turn around, no looking. I don’t want you using this as an excuse to gawk at my chest again.”
“Fine.” He covered his eyes and turned around.
When she was prone, she told him. “Okay. You can start now, but no groping.” She squeezed her headset in her right hand, just in case she needed to call for help.
Moments after he straddled her buttocks, the sensual pleasure began. Working his warm hands up her back, he released knots she didn’t know she had. Every new area he concentrated on made her moan or sigh softly. After almost thirty minutes of this, she felt like pizza dough in his hands. It was several moments before she recognized that his lips and teeth were on her neck massaging—no—thrumming her body like a cello. And could he play like a virtuoso. Quivers traveled to her toes, and echoes lingered in places in between.
Mercy opened her mouth to object, but nothing came out but a pant. He stroked the back of her neck with his lips, and she shivered. Her lids fluttered lazily to see if he knew the effect he was having. When she turned her head, his fingers kept caressing the spots. Her whole body breathed in to say the word, “Yes.” But she bit her lip to stop the proclamation. She didn’t pull away; it felt too good. However, she didn’t need to feed his monstrous ego.
“I was thinking,” he drawled, playing her spine like a piano keyboard.
That makes one of us, she thought, struggling not to whimper.
“Would you do me the honor of escorting me to the wedding tonight?”
Her first reaction, despite his vile manners, was, As long as you don’t stop. Then she remembered Yuki and chastised herself. Lou is a pig. Why is he asking you out? The ugliest sheep? Barely audible, she asked, “Oleander was working?”
He replied reflexively. “Yeah. Security.”
That alone might not have dissuaded her. However, when she sat up, she felt her bra slip. “D-did you unhook me?”
“Of course. For a better massage. Your bra is probably causing a lot of your neck and upper-back pain. Your chest is—”
Mercy stood up, holding the lab coat in front of her and struggling to find a way to rehook the bra. “I trusted you!” He was staring at her again, so she turned away and shrieked.
He tried to stay smooth. “I can help with that if you—”
She picked up the hammock and beat him with the rope. “Pervert.”
“Watch it! I can’t replace that.”
She dragged the hammock after her, shouting, “I’ve marked the white flowers on the map in the wheelbarrow. If you’re not back with some in one hour, I’m cutting this contraption into bunting for the altar, and then I’ll tell Pratibha what you’ve been doing.”
Lou sprang into action to pick the flowers.
****
Toby had observed every moment of the meadow encounter until Lou slipped his hand under Mercy’s shirt while he nipped at her neck. That was his meadow, his helper. Toby should have been the one on top of her sedated form. The biologist in Olympus beat his fists against a pillow and raged until it separated into chunks. Shaking, he muttered, “Oh, now you’re going to suffer first.”
Floating into Snowflake’s chamber, Toby connected to the advanced computer and switched the names on the navigations files. The sun-grazing sweep became OfficialMidwayApproach, while the safe jump was relabeled LousProposal. Then, he opened all the windows in the control room as wide as they would go. Only the luggage area and showers would be free from the blazing sun when Sanctuary arrived at its destination. Toby moved the telescope to where the new sun would be and then zoomed in. He was already planning the dosages and where to apply the straps. The difficulty would be preventing Lou from blinking before his retinas burned out. Belladonna might help dilate his pupils more and make him pliable. He toyed with the idea of injecting him with chemicals to enhance PTSD instead of preventing it, but decided it would be a waste. He’d ‘commit suicide’ soon after.
Next, Toby composed the note. It would need to be shallow to be convincing. I’ll never see another breast, and I failed in my duty. He wr
ote with his left hand to give the shaky effect of a blind man. Afterward, he called Yvette, asking, “Could you bring the ‘medicinal’ vodka when you come for duty?”
The nurse chuckled. “Why? Are you planning a party?”
Oh, yes.
Chapter 26 – Smooth Criminal
Mercy took a nap and then had Oleander fix her hair. As it grew longer, it developed a mind of its own. Her roommate also applied some primitive makeup and decreed, “Devastating. Lower your zipper seven centimeters, and he’ll stare at you the whole wedding. Lou won’t be able to keep his hands off you at the dance.”
Mercy swallowed hard at the thought of a slow dance. “Um . . . about Lou. Could you trade shifts with me for Olympus? It should be pretty dead this week.”
“I can understand doing this once, but if you can’t tolerate any of the men, you’re going to get a reputation as hard to work with.”
“I’d rather have that than a reputation for being easy.”
“Lou made a move on you, and you slapped him?”
“Worse, I let him kiss me.”
“How was it?”
Pausing to relive the moment, Mercy said, “I once saw a woman with those curly violin slots tattooed on the back of her neck.”
“F holes. Sorry, that sounds obscene.”
“It sounds appropriate. He played my body like an instrument.” Mercy shuddered.
“Mmm, and you gave yourself to him?”
“If he hadn’t opened his mouth to talk, I might have. He’s a dog. He asked every other woman on the planet before me.”
“But?”
“If I’m alone with him for a week . . . I can’t guarantee I’ll resist. I think I deserve better.”
Oleander stared at her. “Sure, but I can’t get there till after my guard shift tonight.”
“What do you want from the kitchen? Name it, and I’ll twist Johnny’s arm into making extra.”
“That Kentucky Fried Pheasant sounded good.”
“You’re the best.”
Throughout the ceremony, Mercy tried to remain helpful but hidden in the background. She had the most fun handing out birdseed for throwing at the bride because she knew that the chickens would have a field day cleaning. During the setup for the banquet, Mercy told Yvette about her predicament. Her friend nodded and said, “I know someone who will volunteer to cover the shift tonight.”